Recently DH and I decided to bite the bullet and buy a new couch-our first purchase of furniture EVER! A bit of backstory: DH graduated from college a year before me and set off to his first grown up job while I stayed in school. It was a week before his job was to start and he had made no progress on actually finding a house to live in or furnishings to put in it (DH is brilliant but he tends to procrastinate about domestic chores-and he's ridiculously forgetful so he tends to forget important things). At this point his mom took over; she picked out a townhouse and headed to the furniture store to fill it. DH never actually saw the apartment before he signed the lease.
His mom did an awesome job! We loved our townhouse (until the lady who taught piano moved in next door-but that was 2 years later) and we loved most of the furniture she had picked out. The whole house matched and was tastefully decorated in a beautiful western theme. 6 months later I moved in and the nicely decorated house began to take on more and more of my decorating style. I'm not sure you can actually call it a style though, if you were going to it would be a cross between a 12 year old girl and a hobo who lives in a box. I buy what I like and don't worry if it actually matches anything else I own. I'm messy and cluttered, but I have early stage hoarding disease so our small town house was suddenly decorated with Snoopy stuffed animals, hot pink throw pillows and piles of dirty clothes and books I had yet to read.
DH tolerated me ruining his artfully decorated home with surprisingly good grace for someone as OCD as he is (that's when I knew it was true love). The one thing we both agreed on was that we HATED the couch his mom had picked out. It was a very expensive couch, it matched the theme of the house perfectly and it looked very nice. However, sitting on it was less comfortable than sitting on a bed of nails. It had wooden arms, a wooden back, super hard cushions and it wasn't wide enough for us to cuddle on. You couldn't lean on the arms (even with a throw pillow behind your back) without them stabbing you. However, it was brand new and it looked great so we kept tolerating it as we waited for it to wear out.
This year I realized we were going to wait forever-this was a solidly constructed couch and it was never going to wear out. Our new house has a massive living room and our tiny couch looked a tad bit ridiculous in such a big space. Plus, on the rare occasions we had guests everyone ended up sitting on the floor since we didn't have any seating. We came up with a plan to move the torture couch to one side of the room and buy a nice comfy couch for us to actually sit on. We would double our seating area, not cause offense by getting rid of the evil couch and make our living room look less ridiculous.
Over Christmas my parents decided they were going to buy new furniture as their couch was worn out and sagging at one end-I decided that we should take their old couch. We agreed to come back another time with a trailer and pick it up-it didn't look too great but it was comfortable! Once we were back home we headed to town to run errands and we happened to drive by an Ashley Furniture that was having a grand opening sale. We stopped in to take a quick peek and we were pretty disappointed by the offerings. However, we did find the most awesome and comfortable couch in the world. It looked amazing, it matched our house, it was big enough for DH and the dog and myself to sit on it all at once and it had recliners. It was on a super great sale that day so we jumped on it and purchased it (paying in full and in cash).
One thing you must know about DH and I is that we are not impulsive people. We are of the generation raised to read reviews and carefully consider each purchase, I'm ridiculously high strung and we both tend to end up with paralysis by analysis. It took us almost 2 years (and the viewing of hundreds of houses) to pick the house we wanted, and the only reason we bought it was because my mom talked us into it. By nature (and as a product of the teachings of our parents) we are careful with our money and one of the ways we live such a comfortable life is to be very careful.with how we spend our money. The $600 dollars we were spending on the couch (and the extended five year warranty) wasn't a ton of money, but it was a decent chunk of change.
I don't know what came over us that day, but we jumped right into the couch purchase. We didn't read any reviews or have one of our marathon debates over the pros and cons. Within 20 minutes of entering the store we were $600 poorer and I was starting to question if we had made the right decision. We were told that we could take the couch home that day-after we paid (and they spent 10 minutes trying to talk us into a ridiculous financing deal) we were told that they would have to order the couch and it wouldn't be in for 2 weeks. That was annoying and frustrating but we could live with it. In fact, it worked better for us since we wanted to clean the carpets and reorganize the living room before setting up the couch.
My mom was really surprised when I sent her a picture of the couch and shocked that we were making such a quick decision. We waited and waited and finally right as the two weeks were up the couch arrived! I happened to be away visiting my parents for the weekend so it fell to DH to go pick it up (they wanted $180.00 to deliver it!). He drove down to get it and spent almost 30 minutes in line at the distribution warehouse waiting. He was already pissed off because we had been told we would be able to pick it up at the store-that wasn't the case and he had to drive an extra 20 miles to the downtown warehouse (when you live in the country picking up something on the other side of a major city is a HUGE undertaking and adds a lot to the 30 mile drive you've already made).
He finally got the couch home and went to take the back off so it would fit in the door-we were told the back just lifted off when we purchased the couch. He spent almost 2 hours (and several Google searches) trying to figure out how to get the stupid back off the couch. It's at this point I must point out that DH is an engineer-he regularly takes apart very expensive machines and puts them back together-he's very good at his job but he was no match for this couch.
He finally gave up and decided to wait until the next day when his friend was coming over so he would have some help. At this point Ashley had told us several lies and we were thinking some pretty nasty thoughts about them as a company. The next day DH got the couch all set up and made a very interesting discovery-one of the bars under the reclining portion of the couch was mangled and therefore it wouldn't work. Essentially we paid for a whole functioning couch and received half a couch. DH was too pissed off to call so we waited a couple of days before calling them.
DH is NOT nice to customer service people if he feels they aren't doing their job correctly so I was the one who ended up having to call. I'm usually a pretty nice person since I've worked retail and I understand how sucky it can be to get yelled at for something that isn't your fault. I called and the first gentleman was very rude-he kept insisting that we had somehow broken it while we were bringing it inside the house. I kept explaining that the non-broken side had wood screwed underneath it to protect it during shipping while the broken side did not. I also kept explaining that we had purchased the extended warranty so that should be covered even if we had broken it. He finally ended up saying to me "It's your fault for buying the couch" and hung up on me.
I called back and got another rep who was much nicer. I felt bad for him since I was still smarting from my run in with the other rep and he got an earful (I can be quite angry when I need to be). He agreed that they would order the part and send someone out to fix it. I was happy until I discovered that it was going to be two weeks for the part to arrive and another two weeks before a repair team could be dispatched to our rural town. By that time I will have spent 6 weeks of my life waiting on this couch! I asked if we could be given our money back and return the couch-I liked the couch but I was done with the frustration. I was told that they didn't allow returns, but that I would be given store credit minus a restocking fee. The refund wouldn't be enough to buy a comparable couch (since we had bought it so heavily discounted) or even a comparable chair. Plus, I wasn't about to lose 20% of my money for them to restock a broken couch.
I finally agreed to the repair but explained that I would need a Saturday repair time. I was told "Saturdays are really busy and you're so far away so you can't have that". I explained that I couldn't take time off work to deal with this and I was told I could just sneak out. I'm sure that my 8th graders won't notice that I'm missing right? I was about to go all Incredible Hulk again so I asked them to call me when they were ready to set up a repair time and we would deal with it then.
So far I'm not too happy about the way we've been treated and I'm regretting jumping in so quickly. After the fact I checked the reviews for Ashley Furniture and they were overwhelmingly negative-lots of people seem to be experiencing the same things we are. I should have listened to my gut and been my usual cautious self-if I had we wouldn't be experiencing all the aggravation and lost time. I will say that I love the half of my couch that isn't broken and I'm pleased with my purchase. I just wish I had given another company my hard earned money-like our local furniture store. I probably would have paid another few hundred dollars but I wouldn't spend a month sitting on a broken couch or have to take a day off work to wait for them to repair it.
Even though people may make fun of DH and I for being cautious we usually don't have to deal with a lot of frustration. We take our time and make sure we like what we're purchasing so we don't lose time and money to the returns process. I regret not doing that in this case. My overall conclusion is that you should always listen to your gut-even if people laugh at you for doing so. I can safely say that when it comes time for DH and I to upgrade the rest of our furniture we won't be spending our money at Ashley that's for sure!
Showing posts with label mistakes. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mistakes. Show all posts
Friday, January 23, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
How To Write a Proper Amazon Review
I'll admit it, I'm an Amazon junkie! DH and I order stuff from Amazon at least twice a week if not more! We use the heck out of our Prime membership-everything from toilet paper to light bulbs arrive on our porch. I enjoy the convenience of shopping from my couch and I love not having to drive the half an hour into town.
Another handy feature of Amazon is the ability to write and read reviews. I read the reviews for pretty much every purchase I make and I've learned tons of great information from my fellow consumers. I make sure I return the favor for reviewing most of the products I buy and I get tons of helpful votes! Sometimes the reviews have convinced me to buy the product and sometimes they make me steer clear. However, some of the reviews on Amazon are so laughably bad that they irritate me to no end-especially when they are one of the few review for a product. In the interest of my own sanity I've made a list of lessons that some reviewers need to learn.
Here are my guidelines for a great review:
1. Reviews are based on a 5 star scale: One star means you hate it and five stars means you love it. A one star review should state that the product is great and you love it.
2. Reviews are not the place for customer service: If you have a problem with your order you should contact customer service. The one this you shouldn't do is post a review demanding your money back. It cracks me up to no end to see someone threatening to sue if Amazon doesn't respond to their poorly written review. If you want laughs check out the one star reviews of the Amazon store card-tons of people complaining that they don't like the card and that they will be suing if Amazon doesn't fix their problem. A call to customer service or even a quick email will get your problem fixed faster.
3. Don't leave a review if you have nothing to say: A review that says good or not good tells me NOTHING. You would be better off not leaving a review. Tell me what makes it good or bad, a one word review is just a waste of space.
4. You don't always have to listen to your e-mail: Amazon will sometimes email you asking you to leave a review. People seem to think that this is a direct order. I've seen things like "I was asked to leave a review, but I bought it as a gift", "I don't know why I'm leaving a review", "They emailed me and told me to leave a review". If you don't want to write a review then DON'T-just delete the e-mail and go about your day.
5. Proofread, proofread, proofread: I spend my life reading 8th grade writing-I can get through some pretty messed up writing. So when I'm struggling to read what you've written due to your spelling and your lack of punctuation it's saying something. Remember the whole world will be reading this-plan accordingly.
Another handy feature of Amazon is the ability to write and read reviews. I read the reviews for pretty much every purchase I make and I've learned tons of great information from my fellow consumers. I make sure I return the favor for reviewing most of the products I buy and I get tons of helpful votes! Sometimes the reviews have convinced me to buy the product and sometimes they make me steer clear. However, some of the reviews on Amazon are so laughably bad that they irritate me to no end-especially when they are one of the few review for a product. In the interest of my own sanity I've made a list of lessons that some reviewers need to learn.
Here are my guidelines for a great review:
1. Reviews are based on a 5 star scale: One star means you hate it and five stars means you love it. A one star review should state that the product is great and you love it.
2. Reviews are not the place for customer service: If you have a problem with your order you should contact customer service. The one this you shouldn't do is post a review demanding your money back. It cracks me up to no end to see someone threatening to sue if Amazon doesn't respond to their poorly written review. If you want laughs check out the one star reviews of the Amazon store card-tons of people complaining that they don't like the card and that they will be suing if Amazon doesn't fix their problem. A call to customer service or even a quick email will get your problem fixed faster.
3. Don't leave a review if you have nothing to say: A review that says good or not good tells me NOTHING. You would be better off not leaving a review. Tell me what makes it good or bad, a one word review is just a waste of space.
4. You don't always have to listen to your e-mail: Amazon will sometimes email you asking you to leave a review. People seem to think that this is a direct order. I've seen things like "I was asked to leave a review, but I bought it as a gift", "I don't know why I'm leaving a review", "They emailed me and told me to leave a review". If you don't want to write a review then DON'T-just delete the e-mail and go about your day.
5. Proofread, proofread, proofread: I spend my life reading 8th grade writing-I can get through some pretty messed up writing. So when I'm struggling to read what you've written due to your spelling and your lack of punctuation it's saying something. Remember the whole world will be reading this-plan accordingly.
Tuesday, January 13, 2015
Better Living Through Unnecessary Medical Care
I will freely admit that I am a tad bit of a hypochondriac (DH would say I'm just raging insane-but that's open for debate). When I was growing up my mother would never take me to the doctor-for anything. When I was in middle school I fell down the steps chasing our dog and tore a ligament in my knee. I spent the next week participating in gym class and walking all over school before my mother believed me enough to take me to the doctor. She was pretty embarrassed that she had waited so long (hi mom!-I told you I would get revenge-well here it is). To be fair when my mom fell down the stairs a couple of years ago she actually broke her foot (like swollen, bruised and could feel the bone moving) and she never went to the doctor.
My parents were responsible and loving parents (so no calling the cops or anything), but they understood that I was a tad dramatic so they took my I'm dying claims with a grain of salt. DH still hasn't figured out how panicky I am, so he totally feeds into my crazy. Last year I personally spent $4000 on medical bills and spent months in and out of various doctors. At one point I was driving to a podiatrist 3 hours away from my home because I didn't like the responses I got from any podiatrist in my hometown. I had been having a ton of foot pain in a foot I had previously had surgery on and not one doctor believed me that there was something wrong. They all thought that I was gunning for drugs rather than a solution. Until I finally had surgery in college my foot hurt every single day for as almost 10 years-which was dismissed by every single doctor except one. After an MRI and being told that I would just have to live with pain I hightailed it back to that doctor. After months of tests we discovered that I had an auto-immune disease that was probably causing a large part of my pain. Now that it is being treated my pain is getting better (without narcotics thank you very much!). I do know my own body and sometimes I'm really right-but other times the crazy just kind of takes over.
Case in point: Sophomore year of college I woke up with a large lump on my eyelid. There wasn't any pus or any thing so where did my mind immediately jump? I decided I had eye cancer and rushed off to student health accordingly. The doctor seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face as I explained that I had eye cancer and would probably need chemo. This was the same doctor that was tasked with dealing with me previously for swine flu (probably not), severe flu (also not severe, but was given IV fluids just to shut me up) and several other ailments that were deadly at the time.
He took one look at my eye and calmly stated that I had a stye on the underside of my eyelid. He told me to wear my glasses until it popped on its own and to stop sleeping in my contacts. I wasn't convinced and left the doctor in a huff-"How could he be so insensitive to my fears?" I raged at my mother on the phone as I begged her to book me an appointment with the nearest oncologist. Luckily my mother has had tons of experience talking me down off ledges so she convinced me to wait a week until starting my cancer regime. She also talked me into applying a hot towel to my eye to speed up the process. A few days later the eye cancer was gone and once again my mother was right.
All of this leads back to my emergency room visit I alluded to a few days ago. I woke up on the Sunday before school started with a ton of back pain. For once my crazy didn't really kick in and I laid around in bed on a heating pad all day. Basically I used it as an excuse to get DH to rub my back and to not do any Sunday chores. I didn't call my mom all day (which is super unusual) because I felt so terrible. I knew I had to go to work the next day so I was really hoping I would feel better. DH spent most of the day shoveling snow without realizing how terrible I was feeling. When I finally decided that I should probably be seen by a doctor all the walk in care clinics were closed. Instead of rushing off to the ER I made the smart choice to call the on-call doctor to see if it could wait until the next day-he said we should come in.
When I can actually make smart health care decisions or when I wait to go to the doctor I usually wind up to be actually pretty sick. When I have the time and mental abilities to come up with my crazy scenarios it's usually something that's no big deal. I fully expected that this would actually be something serious-my back was really killing me at this point. I've had some pretty bad injuries and this was worse than anything I've ever experienced. It was right in the area of my kidneys so I totally expected a kidney stone or something like that.
The ER was slow, but I really didn't care until I got back to the room. We got triaged and taken back and then we waited FOREVER for a nurse to show up. Once she had taken vital and a urine sample she swept out and we were left alone for another hour. A PA shows up and explains that they had run some tests and I didn't have an infection-they wanted to order a CT scan to check out my kidneys. She also stated that she would get me some pain medication since at this point I was white as a sheet and writhing around trying to get comfortable (quietly so I didn't make a scene of course). We agreed and she left-it was another hour before the nurse came back to start my IV-and she didn't bring the promised pain medication. She did a great job getting the IV in quickly as I squeezed my eyes shut (I don't have a fear of needles, but I do pass out at the sight of blood-I can handle animal blood just not human blood-yes it's odd). DH asked very politely if she could get us a bandage or a wrap to cover the IV so I didn't have to look at the blood in it and she said she would. I was taken away for my CT scan shortly after that which went well and was over quickly. They used the strange dye that makes you feel like you're peeing yourself.
Just a warning for anyone who has to get the contrast dye-IT REALLY WILL FEEL LIKE YOU'RE PEEING YOURSELF! I was told this multiple times and I didn't really believe them. I was more focused on the fact that they told me it would make me feel warm-I was freezing to death so that sounded like a welcome side effect. The very nice radiologist came and got me from my room to take me for the CT scan. It was super embarrassing to be rolled through the waiting room in my hospital bed while wearing my super revealing hospital gown (that I hadn't let DH tie so he could rub my back). Of course one of my former students was in the waiting room with his family-he seemed to get a good laugh out of it. When we got the room I correctly assumed that I should lie on the table by the machine and went to get up-at the same time the radiologist reached out to help me up and he managed to totally grab my boob!
The poor guy turned bright red and I'm pretty sure he expected a screaming fit and a lawsuit. He seemed a bit taken aback when I made a VERY terrible joke (that I won't repeat) and started laughing. He apologized about a million times, but it wasn't that big of deal. When he injected the dye I was still giggling inwardly and then all of the sudden I was peeing myself. I shared this with the radiologist and he assured me that I wasn't. By this point crazy anxiety brain had taken over and I was convinced that I did pee myself.
Once we were done he rolled me back to my room and I still felt a little funny from the dye. The first words out of my mouth when I rejoined DH? "The radiologist grabbed my boob-can you check and see if I peed myself?" DH is actually a good sport (and a GREAT husband) because he checked and confirmed that I hadn't made a huge mess and he cracked up at the story. It took another few hours, but I finally got my pain medicine (3 hours after I was told I would get it and 30 minutes before we were allowed to leave).
So what was wrong? I was having an allergic reaction to a new medicine that I had started taking for my autoimmune disease. The shot of morphine they gave me before discharging me made me totally drunk, but didn't touch the back pain. It wasn't until I had skipped 2 doses of the medicine before the pain started to go away-no matter how many muscle relaxers and pain pills I took.
My lesson from all of this is a surprising one-my mother was RIGHT. It feels like every time I go to the doctor for one thing the medicine or the procedure causes another thing. Medical care is like the Domino theory except with ER visits instead of Communist Governments. My mom has a theory that if you never go to the doctor you never get sick. I think all my illnesses have come about from exposing myself to germs and medical care. My goal for 2015 is to avoid as much medical care as possible since if I get any sicker I'll probably die and that would be unfortunate. Is there a name for a hypochondriac that avoids medical care (besides lunatic)?
My parents were responsible and loving parents (so no calling the cops or anything), but they understood that I was a tad dramatic so they took my I'm dying claims with a grain of salt. DH still hasn't figured out how panicky I am, so he totally feeds into my crazy. Last year I personally spent $4000 on medical bills and spent months in and out of various doctors. At one point I was driving to a podiatrist 3 hours away from my home because I didn't like the responses I got from any podiatrist in my hometown. I had been having a ton of foot pain in a foot I had previously had surgery on and not one doctor believed me that there was something wrong. They all thought that I was gunning for drugs rather than a solution. Until I finally had surgery in college my foot hurt every single day for as almost 10 years-which was dismissed by every single doctor except one. After an MRI and being told that I would just have to live with pain I hightailed it back to that doctor. After months of tests we discovered that I had an auto-immune disease that was probably causing a large part of my pain. Now that it is being treated my pain is getting better (without narcotics thank you very much!). I do know my own body and sometimes I'm really right-but other times the crazy just kind of takes over.
Case in point: Sophomore year of college I woke up with a large lump on my eyelid. There wasn't any pus or any thing so where did my mind immediately jump? I decided I had eye cancer and rushed off to student health accordingly. The doctor seemed to have trouble keeping a straight face as I explained that I had eye cancer and would probably need chemo. This was the same doctor that was tasked with dealing with me previously for swine flu (probably not), severe flu (also not severe, but was given IV fluids just to shut me up) and several other ailments that were deadly at the time.
He took one look at my eye and calmly stated that I had a stye on the underside of my eyelid. He told me to wear my glasses until it popped on its own and to stop sleeping in my contacts. I wasn't convinced and left the doctor in a huff-"How could he be so insensitive to my fears?" I raged at my mother on the phone as I begged her to book me an appointment with the nearest oncologist. Luckily my mother has had tons of experience talking me down off ledges so she convinced me to wait a week until starting my cancer regime. She also talked me into applying a hot towel to my eye to speed up the process. A few days later the eye cancer was gone and once again my mother was right.
All of this leads back to my emergency room visit I alluded to a few days ago. I woke up on the Sunday before school started with a ton of back pain. For once my crazy didn't really kick in and I laid around in bed on a heating pad all day. Basically I used it as an excuse to get DH to rub my back and to not do any Sunday chores. I didn't call my mom all day (which is super unusual) because I felt so terrible. I knew I had to go to work the next day so I was really hoping I would feel better. DH spent most of the day shoveling snow without realizing how terrible I was feeling. When I finally decided that I should probably be seen by a doctor all the walk in care clinics were closed. Instead of rushing off to the ER I made the smart choice to call the on-call doctor to see if it could wait until the next day-he said we should come in.
When I can actually make smart health care decisions or when I wait to go to the doctor I usually wind up to be actually pretty sick. When I have the time and mental abilities to come up with my crazy scenarios it's usually something that's no big deal. I fully expected that this would actually be something serious-my back was really killing me at this point. I've had some pretty bad injuries and this was worse than anything I've ever experienced. It was right in the area of my kidneys so I totally expected a kidney stone or something like that.
The ER was slow, but I really didn't care until I got back to the room. We got triaged and taken back and then we waited FOREVER for a nurse to show up. Once she had taken vital and a urine sample she swept out and we were left alone for another hour. A PA shows up and explains that they had run some tests and I didn't have an infection-they wanted to order a CT scan to check out my kidneys. She also stated that she would get me some pain medication since at this point I was white as a sheet and writhing around trying to get comfortable (quietly so I didn't make a scene of course). We agreed and she left-it was another hour before the nurse came back to start my IV-and she didn't bring the promised pain medication. She did a great job getting the IV in quickly as I squeezed my eyes shut (I don't have a fear of needles, but I do pass out at the sight of blood-I can handle animal blood just not human blood-yes it's odd). DH asked very politely if she could get us a bandage or a wrap to cover the IV so I didn't have to look at the blood in it and she said she would. I was taken away for my CT scan shortly after that which went well and was over quickly. They used the strange dye that makes you feel like you're peeing yourself.
Just a warning for anyone who has to get the contrast dye-IT REALLY WILL FEEL LIKE YOU'RE PEEING YOURSELF! I was told this multiple times and I didn't really believe them. I was more focused on the fact that they told me it would make me feel warm-I was freezing to death so that sounded like a welcome side effect. The very nice radiologist came and got me from my room to take me for the CT scan. It was super embarrassing to be rolled through the waiting room in my hospital bed while wearing my super revealing hospital gown (that I hadn't let DH tie so he could rub my back). Of course one of my former students was in the waiting room with his family-he seemed to get a good laugh out of it. When we got the room I correctly assumed that I should lie on the table by the machine and went to get up-at the same time the radiologist reached out to help me up and he managed to totally grab my boob!
The poor guy turned bright red and I'm pretty sure he expected a screaming fit and a lawsuit. He seemed a bit taken aback when I made a VERY terrible joke (that I won't repeat) and started laughing. He apologized about a million times, but it wasn't that big of deal. When he injected the dye I was still giggling inwardly and then all of the sudden I was peeing myself. I shared this with the radiologist and he assured me that I wasn't. By this point crazy anxiety brain had taken over and I was convinced that I did pee myself.
Once we were done he rolled me back to my room and I still felt a little funny from the dye. The first words out of my mouth when I rejoined DH? "The radiologist grabbed my boob-can you check and see if I peed myself?" DH is actually a good sport (and a GREAT husband) because he checked and confirmed that I hadn't made a huge mess and he cracked up at the story. It took another few hours, but I finally got my pain medicine (3 hours after I was told I would get it and 30 minutes before we were allowed to leave).
So what was wrong? I was having an allergic reaction to a new medicine that I had started taking for my autoimmune disease. The shot of morphine they gave me before discharging me made me totally drunk, but didn't touch the back pain. It wasn't until I had skipped 2 doses of the medicine before the pain started to go away-no matter how many muscle relaxers and pain pills I took.
My lesson from all of this is a surprising one-my mother was RIGHT. It feels like every time I go to the doctor for one thing the medicine or the procedure causes another thing. Medical care is like the Domino theory except with ER visits instead of Communist Governments. My mom has a theory that if you never go to the doctor you never get sick. I think all my illnesses have come about from exposing myself to germs and medical care. My goal for 2015 is to avoid as much medical care as possible since if I get any sicker I'll probably die and that would be unfortunate. Is there a name for a hypochondriac that avoids medical care (besides lunatic)?
Saturday, January 10, 2015
What was I thinking?
DH left today on a boy's weekend trip. Since the weekend was going to consist of looking at farm equipment I wisely made the decision to stay home with the dog. This choice also makes me look good so I can leave town next weekend without guilt-he really owes me one!
I had planned a relaxing spa day today and I was going to do absolutely nothing! Unfortunately my type-A took over and I spend about 5 hours stripping our house of Christmas decorations. It felt good to have it done (even though DH weaseled out of helping again-I'm pretty sure he does this intentionally).
My spa day was wonderful-at least until the masseuse burned me with a hot towel-I still have a nice burn mark on my shoulder. I left totally relaxed-except for the slight burn. However, I've developed quite a high tolerance for pain and injury since I seem to do some sort of deadly injury to myself about once a week, so no harm done.
After I got home and had dinner (and took a shower to rinse off all the sticky oil) I jumped right into my next project. Over Christmas I went on the hunt to buy a new iPod since my 8 year old iPod Touch had finally died (probably because I left it in my car for two years). As I was trolling eBay I discovered that the iPod classic came in a 160 gb version and I was sold. I had already loaded all my music on it (all 15 gigs of it) so I decided to finally begin the task of digitizing my CD collection.
I've discovered that between 1998 and 2009 I fell into some sort of strange vacumn where my usually impeccable taste abandoned me. The first two CD's were JaRule and Nelly-I was a white girl from the suburbs why on earth did I think I was cool? After listening to a few of the songs again I realized that I TOTALLY get why parents get so upset about their kids listening to this type of music. All the stuff I didn't understand in the 8th grade I get now. I'm quite glad I didn't take life advice from this music or I would be a VERY different person. I remember thinking I was a gangster back in the day-now I look back on my middle school self and think about building a time machine so I can punch her in the face. I want to tell her "In no way did you look cool strutting by the lifeguard station blasting a song about a drive-by shooting in your one piece TYR swimsuit-you looked like a complete and total idiot. No one thought you were a gangster-they thought you were mentally insane".
Does this mean I'm actually grown up now? (Oh wait-I'm still enjoying my collection of gangsta rap....along with some Conway Twitty thrown in-now people just think I'm insane)
I had planned a relaxing spa day today and I was going to do absolutely nothing! Unfortunately my type-A took over and I spend about 5 hours stripping our house of Christmas decorations. It felt good to have it done (even though DH weaseled out of helping again-I'm pretty sure he does this intentionally).
My spa day was wonderful-at least until the masseuse burned me with a hot towel-I still have a nice burn mark on my shoulder. I left totally relaxed-except for the slight burn. However, I've developed quite a high tolerance for pain and injury since I seem to do some sort of deadly injury to myself about once a week, so no harm done.
After I got home and had dinner (and took a shower to rinse off all the sticky oil) I jumped right into my next project. Over Christmas I went on the hunt to buy a new iPod since my 8 year old iPod Touch had finally died (probably because I left it in my car for two years). As I was trolling eBay I discovered that the iPod classic came in a 160 gb version and I was sold. I had already loaded all my music on it (all 15 gigs of it) so I decided to finally begin the task of digitizing my CD collection.
I've discovered that between 1998 and 2009 I fell into some sort of strange vacumn where my usually impeccable taste abandoned me. The first two CD's were JaRule and Nelly-I was a white girl from the suburbs why on earth did I think I was cool? After listening to a few of the songs again I realized that I TOTALLY get why parents get so upset about their kids listening to this type of music. All the stuff I didn't understand in the 8th grade I get now. I'm quite glad I didn't take life advice from this music or I would be a VERY different person. I remember thinking I was a gangster back in the day-now I look back on my middle school self and think about building a time machine so I can punch her in the face. I want to tell her "In no way did you look cool strutting by the lifeguard station blasting a song about a drive-by shooting in your one piece TYR swimsuit-you looked like a complete and total idiot. No one thought you were a gangster-they thought you were mentally insane".
Does this mean I'm actually grown up now? (Oh wait-I'm still enjoying my collection of gangsta rap....along with some Conway Twitty thrown in-now people just think I'm insane)
How to Impress your Boss
It's been freezing cold here for the past few days. I'm a Southern girl and Southern blood runs through my veins-any temperature under 60 is entirely too cold for me. I live in a permanent state of freezing and DH complains about my habit of cranking the thermostat up to 80 and sitting on the couch under an electric blanket on high. He's accused me of being a reptile more than once in our relationship, which should offend me, but I'm pretty sure it's true. Last summer during a 100 degree heatwave I spent a week with the air conditioning off-DH was quite pleased when he returned from a business trip to a house that felt like a wood-fired pizza oven (those are trendy now right?)
When the single digit weather hit this week all thoughts of dressing for cuteness went out the window-I was dressing purely for function. This meant jeans and thick sweaters-which worked great until I ran out of clean jeans on Wednesday. Unless sweatpants are suddenly considered appropriate work wear I was stuck wearing a dress to work. I attempted to make it warmer with tights and a layered sweater, but the minute I opened the back door I realized I would freeze on my way to the car.
The only practical solution was to layer fleece pajama pants over my dress, wrap a scarf around my head and brave the 20 foot walk to the detached garage (and of course the 10 minutes before my heated seats warmed up). I was quite proud of my innovative fashion sense as I strolled across the icy parking lot into school-my co-workers were shivering and I was toasty warm.
I stepped into the nicely heated building and ran directly into my principal-of course he was nattily attired in a sweater and dress pants. He gave my outfit a once over and I realized how ridiculous I looked. Imagine this: black J. Crew ski cap, black and red Target gloves with a tear in the finger and a strange red pattern along the hand, mint green Colombia jacket (that I've owned since I was in 8th grade) with a few chew marks at the bottom where the dog got her teeth in it and dirt marks from where I fell in the back yard playing with dog. Added to this stylish ensemble were my fuzzy blue pajama pants adorned with jumping and leaping sheep and black riding boots over them. The principal's expression conveyed that he was extremely impressed with my fashion choices (or thought I was slowly losing my mind). He was so impressed he didn't even say anything to me! I'm pretty sure this will reflect positively on me at my next performance review.
Of course when I got to my classroom I slipped off the outerwear that was concealing my work appropriate outfit-and I didn't see my boss the whole day. I'm pretty sure he thought I spent the whole day teaching in my pajamas (which sounds like a fine idea). Guess this is the price you pay for warmth.
When the single digit weather hit this week all thoughts of dressing for cuteness went out the window-I was dressing purely for function. This meant jeans and thick sweaters-which worked great until I ran out of clean jeans on Wednesday. Unless sweatpants are suddenly considered appropriate work wear I was stuck wearing a dress to work. I attempted to make it warmer with tights and a layered sweater, but the minute I opened the back door I realized I would freeze on my way to the car.
The only practical solution was to layer fleece pajama pants over my dress, wrap a scarf around my head and brave the 20 foot walk to the detached garage (and of course the 10 minutes before my heated seats warmed up). I was quite proud of my innovative fashion sense as I strolled across the icy parking lot into school-my co-workers were shivering and I was toasty warm.
I stepped into the nicely heated building and ran directly into my principal-of course he was nattily attired in a sweater and dress pants. He gave my outfit a once over and I realized how ridiculous I looked. Imagine this: black J. Crew ski cap, black and red Target gloves with a tear in the finger and a strange red pattern along the hand, mint green Colombia jacket (that I've owned since I was in 8th grade) with a few chew marks at the bottom where the dog got her teeth in it and dirt marks from where I fell in the back yard playing with dog. Added to this stylish ensemble were my fuzzy blue pajama pants adorned with jumping and leaping sheep and black riding boots over them. The principal's expression conveyed that he was extremely impressed with my fashion choices (or thought I was slowly losing my mind). He was so impressed he didn't even say anything to me! I'm pretty sure this will reflect positively on me at my next performance review.
Of course when I got to my classroom I slipped off the outerwear that was concealing my work appropriate outfit-and I didn't see my boss the whole day. I'm pretty sure he thought I spent the whole day teaching in my pajamas (which sounds like a fine idea). Guess this is the price you pay for warmth.
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