Thursday, June 21, 2007
Full circle
I was just reading some stuff about Thailand online, as I do pretty much every day (too bad I don't write for a magazine about Thailand, because so far I've done way more research than I'm ever going to be able to use on my trip), and I came across the web site of a couple who have a restaurant and guesthouse in Chiang Dao, a town in the northern part of the country that I'm interested in visiting. Anyway, in the course of telling the story about their guesthouse/restaurant, they mentioned that they're planning to start building their dream house on the property later this year. This was accompanied by a picture of said dream house, which they'd gotten from the web site of...drumroll, please...the very tiny company that leases space in my office building. I know the Internet is a small place, but come on. That's just too weird.
I was just reading some stuff about Thailand online, as I do pretty much every day (too bad I don't write for a magazine about Thailand, because so far I've done way more research than I'm ever going to be able to use on my trip), and I came across the web site of a couple who have a restaurant and guesthouse in Chiang Dao, a town in the northern part of the country that I'm interested in visiting. Anyway, in the course of telling the story about their guesthouse/restaurant, they mentioned that they're planning to start building their dream house on the property later this year. This was accompanied by a picture of said dream house, which they'd gotten from the web site of...drumroll, please...the very tiny company that leases space in my office building. I know the Internet is a small place, but come on. That's just too weird.
Friday, June 15, 2007
This could be dangerous
This week, we've been testing a fancy new single-cup coffeemaker at work that's even fancier than the pretty-fancy-in-its-own-right single-cup coffeemaker we already have. Normally, this would be of little concern to me, since I really don't drink coffee (after undertaking the long and torturous process of giving up Coke a few years ago, I now try to avoid caffeine as much as possible--I mean, look what happened to Jessie Spano, people!) and only use the existing coffeemaker occasionally to make tea on dreary days or when I'm sick. However, this fancy new coffeemaker is so fancy that it has a little button called "cappuccino," and with one push, you can make yourself that very treat.
Now, don't fool yourself into thinking this is true, Starbucks-style, espresso-and-milk cappuccino. It's straight-up, 99-percent-sugar, gas-station cappuccino. But this is the problem. I love gas-station cappuccino! I have ever since I was in high school and had a good-luck superstition of getting a cappuccino from the gas station by my house on my way to every marching-band competition. Therefore, I have started my morning with a cappuccino three out of the five days this week--and it's June, mind you, which isn't even prime hot-beverage-drinking season. Come January, I could be hitting cappuccino overload.
We were supposed to vote today on whether or not to keep the new machine and get rid of the old one, but I just can't bring myself to do it. As much as I want to vote for the fancy cappuccino machine, I know I (and my waistline) will be much better off in the long run if the temptation isn't there. And yet I just can't vote against the fancy cappuccino machine, either. So I've resigned my fate to the hands of others. Here's hoping they don't all have as much of a gas-station cappuccino problem as I do.
This week, we've been testing a fancy new single-cup coffeemaker at work that's even fancier than the pretty-fancy-in-its-own-right single-cup coffeemaker we already have. Normally, this would be of little concern to me, since I really don't drink coffee (after undertaking the long and torturous process of giving up Coke a few years ago, I now try to avoid caffeine as much as possible--I mean, look what happened to Jessie Spano, people!) and only use the existing coffeemaker occasionally to make tea on dreary days or when I'm sick. However, this fancy new coffeemaker is so fancy that it has a little button called "cappuccino," and with one push, you can make yourself that very treat.
Now, don't fool yourself into thinking this is true, Starbucks-style, espresso-and-milk cappuccino. It's straight-up, 99-percent-sugar, gas-station cappuccino. But this is the problem. I love gas-station cappuccino! I have ever since I was in high school and had a good-luck superstition of getting a cappuccino from the gas station by my house on my way to every marching-band competition. Therefore, I have started my morning with a cappuccino three out of the five days this week--and it's June, mind you, which isn't even prime hot-beverage-drinking season. Come January, I could be hitting cappuccino overload.
We were supposed to vote today on whether or not to keep the new machine and get rid of the old one, but I just can't bring myself to do it. As much as I want to vote for the fancy cappuccino machine, I know I (and my waistline) will be much better off in the long run if the temptation isn't there. And yet I just can't vote against the fancy cappuccino machine, either. So I've resigned my fate to the hands of others. Here's hoping they don't all have as much of a gas-station cappuccino problem as I do.
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Natural high
So as you may have heard by now, Bri and I have been planning to take the Excellent Adventure global later this year with a trip to Thailand. Last night, we actually sat down and bought our tickets to Bangkok. Seriously, I don't know why anyone would want to do drugs when they can just purchase international airfare. I mean, sure, the ticket to Bangkok certainly wasn't cheap, but last I heard, neither were cocaine or heroin. And while last night's ticket-buying didn't have the same adrenaline-filled, stock-trading-floor feel of Jeff's and my Paris ticket purchase a couple years ago (during which I had both Jeff and the Travelocity rep on the phone and was switching back and forth, and ended up getting my amazingly cheap ticket booked through some secret Travelocity channel that I'm still not sure really existed), seeing that I was confirmed for a flight that I've been stalking for, oh, about nine months now did cause my pulse to quicken. In fact, I had so much excited energy in me after Bri and I hung up that I was actually compelled to run for much of my evening walk. I ran, people! And I smiled while doing it! I think the only time that's ever happened before was when I crossed the finish line of my one and only 5K and knew my brief stint as a runner was behind me.
Oh my God, could you imagine if I was a contestant on The Amazing Race? I'd be strung out like Lindsay Lohan. (Incidentally, I've been catching up on TAR1 via Netflix, and I think it's a testament to the sheer amount of research that I've already done for the Thailand trip that, mere seconds into the previews for the next episode, I could immediately tell that's where they were going. Yeah, there's no way this trip isn't going to be a let-down. Then again, I did quite a lot of research prior to the last Excellent Adventure, and it was pretty awesome. Plus, it's still two full weeks off from work, and you can't really argue with the beauty of that.)
So as you may have heard by now, Bri and I have been planning to take the Excellent Adventure global later this year with a trip to Thailand. Last night, we actually sat down and bought our tickets to Bangkok. Seriously, I don't know why anyone would want to do drugs when they can just purchase international airfare. I mean, sure, the ticket to Bangkok certainly wasn't cheap, but last I heard, neither were cocaine or heroin. And while last night's ticket-buying didn't have the same adrenaline-filled, stock-trading-floor feel of Jeff's and my Paris ticket purchase a couple years ago (during which I had both Jeff and the Travelocity rep on the phone and was switching back and forth, and ended up getting my amazingly cheap ticket booked through some secret Travelocity channel that I'm still not sure really existed), seeing that I was confirmed for a flight that I've been stalking for, oh, about nine months now did cause my pulse to quicken. In fact, I had so much excited energy in me after Bri and I hung up that I was actually compelled to run for much of my evening walk. I ran, people! And I smiled while doing it! I think the only time that's ever happened before was when I crossed the finish line of my one and only 5K and knew my brief stint as a runner was behind me.
Oh my God, could you imagine if I was a contestant on The Amazing Race? I'd be strung out like Lindsay Lohan. (Incidentally, I've been catching up on TAR1 via Netflix, and I think it's a testament to the sheer amount of research that I've already done for the Thailand trip that, mere seconds into the previews for the next episode, I could immediately tell that's where they were going. Yeah, there's no way this trip isn't going to be a let-down. Then again, I did quite a lot of research prior to the last Excellent Adventure, and it was pretty awesome. Plus, it's still two full weeks off from work, and you can't really argue with the beauty of that.)
Thursday, June 07, 2007
At press time...
...I have no reasonable explanation as to why I should have been singing a rousing rendition of Carole King's "Where You Lead" with Jenna and Barbara Bush in my dream last night. I mean, I can explain the song (it came on iTunes last night while I was frantically cleaning my apartment in preparation for my family's arrival in town tomorrow), but the Bush twins? They just came out of nowhere.
...I have no reasonable explanation as to why I should have been singing a rousing rendition of Carole King's "Where You Lead" with Jenna and Barbara Bush in my dream last night. I mean, I can explain the song (it came on iTunes last night while I was frantically cleaning my apartment in preparation for my family's arrival in town tomorrow), but the Bush twins? They just came out of nowhere.
Monday, June 04, 2007
"Must I always be waiting, waiting on you?"
Today, for the second time, I am working from home while waiting for my new mattress to be delivered. It's pretty much universally accepted that waiting for a delivery is the worst task in the world. I know because everyone to whom I happen to mention that I'm waiting for a delivery reacts to this news with something along the lines of, "Ugh! I hate waiting for deliveries! It's the worst!"
It's especially bad for me because, as you may have read above, it's the second time I've had to do it. Why? Because I am a horrible, horrible dishonest person, and this is my karmic retribution.
It all started when I decided to buy a new mattress. As previously reported, I am not a very mattress-sensitive person, but I've had this mattress since I got my own room at the tender age of 11, and even a non-mattress-sensitive person can accept the idea that 16 years is probably too long to be sleeping on the same mattress. Yet, even though I'm not a mattress-sensitive person, mattress shopping is stressful. Autumn had warned me that the experience is akin to buying a car. (She chalked it up to the time spent shopping and the paperwork you have to fill out when you purchase it, but I think it has more to do with not being able to return it.) Anyway, after stressing about the decision for several months, I finally broke down and bought a new mattress last Friday, more to get it over with than anything.
And this is where the fun begins. You see, the guy who sold me my mattress had both a) a screwed-up calculator, and b) an inability to perform basic math without the use of the screwed-up calculator. Somehow, when he added my total ($502.95) with the shipping fee ($55), he came up with a grand total of $534. Now even I, a total failure at anything math-related, knew something was amiss here. But I thought maybe I was misreading his handwriting--perhaps he'd really written $584. That didn't sound quite right, either, but it seemed to me more credible than $534. He must've suspected something was wrong, too, though, because he entered the numbers into the calculator again, but it gave him $534 the second time, too. I guess he figured the calculator was an infalliable machine, because he turned to me and told me it would be $534. And I? Said nothing. I know!
The whole way home, I was wracked with guilt. This was different than accidentally stealing half a swimsuit from Old Navy and not realizing it until I got home. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway. I tried telling myself that it wasn't my job to teach this guy math, but it didn't make me feel much better. Only when I realized that the missing link was the $24 in tax I was supposed to have paid did my guilt begin to assauge. I wasn't cheating the Mattress Warehouse people out of their money, only the state of Virginia! And really, don't I give the state of Virginia enough of my money as it is?
As it turns out, I didn't have to feel guilty for long, as the mattress guy figured out his error and called me to get my credit card number for the remainder of the payment. Everything was going along swimmingly until Tuesday, when the mattress was supposed to be delivered. I was told that I would be getting a call between 8 and 9 with an approximate time when the mattress would arrive. I received no such call, so at 9:05 I called the store to find out where my mattress was. The guy who answered the phone instructed me, for some reason, to call back at 10:20, at which point he could give me the full scoop. So I did. And then I called again at 10:25. And 10:30. And 10:35. And so on and so on until 11, when he finally decided to answer the phone. It was then that he informed me that, because of the $24 debacle, my order wasn't received at the warehouse on Friday night until it was too late to process it for Tuesday delivery. Finally, after much raising of my voice (I was out of town at the end of last week and REALLY wanted the mattress to be delivered on Tuesday, plus I had already taken off work to stay home and wait for it), he said the best he could do was deliver it today.
Which brings us to now. I did get the expected call this morning just after 8, informing me that my mattress would be here between 2 and 5. It is now 4:15, and there's still no mattress in sight. Meanwhile, I'm worse than a kid waiting for Christmas. Every time I hear what could possibly be a large truck outside my window, I jump up to look. So far, this has netted me a view of a few buses and a garbage truck. This mattress had better arrive in the next 45 minutes like it's supposed to. I don't care how dishonest I was--surely I don't deserve to go through this a THIRD time.
UPDATE: The mattress arrived shortly after I posted this, at which point I had to undergo the arduous task of taking the old mattress off the bed and putting the new one on, another experience that I hope not to have to repeat anytime soon. Also, apparently in the store I didn't realize how much higher the new mattress is than my old one. I practically need to pole vault to get up on my bed now. I kind of like it, though. It makes me feel like a princess. You know, a horrible, horrible dishonest princess.
Today, for the second time, I am working from home while waiting for my new mattress to be delivered. It's pretty much universally accepted that waiting for a delivery is the worst task in the world. I know because everyone to whom I happen to mention that I'm waiting for a delivery reacts to this news with something along the lines of, "Ugh! I hate waiting for deliveries! It's the worst!"
It's especially bad for me because, as you may have read above, it's the second time I've had to do it. Why? Because I am a horrible, horrible dishonest person, and this is my karmic retribution.
It all started when I decided to buy a new mattress. As previously reported, I am not a very mattress-sensitive person, but I've had this mattress since I got my own room at the tender age of 11, and even a non-mattress-sensitive person can accept the idea that 16 years is probably too long to be sleeping on the same mattress. Yet, even though I'm not a mattress-sensitive person, mattress shopping is stressful. Autumn had warned me that the experience is akin to buying a car. (She chalked it up to the time spent shopping and the paperwork you have to fill out when you purchase it, but I think it has more to do with not being able to return it.) Anyway, after stressing about the decision for several months, I finally broke down and bought a new mattress last Friday, more to get it over with than anything.
And this is where the fun begins. You see, the guy who sold me my mattress had both a) a screwed-up calculator, and b) an inability to perform basic math without the use of the screwed-up calculator. Somehow, when he added my total ($502.95) with the shipping fee ($55), he came up with a grand total of $534. Now even I, a total failure at anything math-related, knew something was amiss here. But I thought maybe I was misreading his handwriting--perhaps he'd really written $584. That didn't sound quite right, either, but it seemed to me more credible than $534. He must've suspected something was wrong, too, though, because he entered the numbers into the calculator again, but it gave him $534 the second time, too. I guess he figured the calculator was an infalliable machine, because he turned to me and told me it would be $534. And I? Said nothing. I know!
The whole way home, I was wracked with guilt. This was different than accidentally stealing half a swimsuit from Old Navy and not realizing it until I got home. I knew what I was doing, and I did it anyway. I tried telling myself that it wasn't my job to teach this guy math, but it didn't make me feel much better. Only when I realized that the missing link was the $24 in tax I was supposed to have paid did my guilt begin to assauge. I wasn't cheating the Mattress Warehouse people out of their money, only the state of Virginia! And really, don't I give the state of Virginia enough of my money as it is?
As it turns out, I didn't have to feel guilty for long, as the mattress guy figured out his error and called me to get my credit card number for the remainder of the payment. Everything was going along swimmingly until Tuesday, when the mattress was supposed to be delivered. I was told that I would be getting a call between 8 and 9 with an approximate time when the mattress would arrive. I received no such call, so at 9:05 I called the store to find out where my mattress was. The guy who answered the phone instructed me, for some reason, to call back at 10:20, at which point he could give me the full scoop. So I did. And then I called again at 10:25. And 10:30. And 10:35. And so on and so on until 11, when he finally decided to answer the phone. It was then that he informed me that, because of the $24 debacle, my order wasn't received at the warehouse on Friday night until it was too late to process it for Tuesday delivery. Finally, after much raising of my voice (I was out of town at the end of last week and REALLY wanted the mattress to be delivered on Tuesday, plus I had already taken off work to stay home and wait for it), he said the best he could do was deliver it today.
Which brings us to now. I did get the expected call this morning just after 8, informing me that my mattress would be here between 2 and 5. It is now 4:15, and there's still no mattress in sight. Meanwhile, I'm worse than a kid waiting for Christmas. Every time I hear what could possibly be a large truck outside my window, I jump up to look. So far, this has netted me a view of a few buses and a garbage truck. This mattress had better arrive in the next 45 minutes like it's supposed to. I don't care how dishonest I was--surely I don't deserve to go through this a THIRD time.
UPDATE: The mattress arrived shortly after I posted this, at which point I had to undergo the arduous task of taking the old mattress off the bed and putting the new one on, another experience that I hope not to have to repeat anytime soon. Also, apparently in the store I didn't realize how much higher the new mattress is than my old one. I practically need to pole vault to get up on my bed now. I kind of like it, though. It makes me feel like a princess. You know, a horrible, horrible dishonest princess.
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