Today I am grateful for do-over-days. OMG, before 7:30 a.m. I was already so agitated that I thought I might pop a blood vessel. Why?
Himself, who needs to use the facilities several times during the night, banged his leg once four years ago and now feels he needs to have light to maneuver his way. Never mind that we have street lights and traffic lights that glare into our house all night long, especially now that the leaves are gone. He needs a flashlight.
I used to think I’m a light sleeper but I think he’s more of a loud awaker! For some unknown reason he was up at 6 a.m. to get routine fasting blood work taken. I don’t think they even open until 7. I was jolted out of a sound sleep by the flashlight he was “being discrete” with, hitting me full-on smack in the eyeballs, like I was a felon in a dark alley! “What the HELL!” I shouted.
“I can’t hear you I don’t have my hearing aids in!” He left the house fast. Good thing. It’s no fun yelling when he doesn’t have his hearing aids in anyway.
I always tape Good Morning America and especially wanted it today because a friend’s granddaughter was going to be dancing as part of the Disney show, High School Musical. I got my usual breakfast and tea and sat down to watch from the recording. It wasn’t recording. The FIOS was wacky. I couldn’t fix it in my usual way. Nothing worked. I couldn’t even bring the guide up. You know what that means. I had to call tech support! Please, no!
But first I went on line because they always swear it is so easy to do that and will save you time. Hahahahahaha. As if! I found a number I had used before, written in my book. And code numbers and passwords and all manner of useless crap. See how smart I am?
“We are experiencing a higher than normal call volume. Your call will be answered in 15 to 20 minutes.” Really? Everyone is up at 0’dark thirty calling Verizon tech support? Or is Beulah the only one on at that hour and she had Indian food last night so she can’t leave the little room?
I wait, listening to horrible noise/music and whack around on the keyboard to try to resolve my “issue”. I’m on a chat, in a support, order a new remote, just because this one has been pissing me off anyway and as long as I’m there I might as well check that off my list of things to do and I wait. And wait. On hold. Tra la, tra la!
After about a half an hour on hold and on line, I find a prompt to do a magic-reboot of my “systems”. Oh, if only it were that easy on the human body. . . just reboot! I’m told to click on this or that and that all of my whatever will be down for a few minutes. My whatever has been down for longer than they know. My computer stayed connected, but the phone went dead. My now almost 45 minutes on hold were over. Beulah was still you-know-where anyway so who cares.
It looked like I ordered the remote. . .or six of them. . .not quite sure, and there was another number to call if my problem hadn’t been solved. It hadn’t. Actually my problems were growing or was that just pressure from the steam building up in my brain? This time they had to text my cell to give me a code number that I had to tell them right away or we would all self-destruct and by then I didn’t care too much if we did. Bye-bye.
I was prompted to say yes, say no, say I have no frigging idea about a dozen times before I screamed, “REPRESENTATIVE!!!”
“Your call is very important to us. We are experiencing an unusually high call volume at this time.” Are you kidding me? “A representative will be with you before you whither away under a house like the Wicked Witch of the West. You could try going on line or clicking your heels together three times, but we doubt that will work either so you’re stuck waiting. Have a nice day and enjoy the music.”
I waited on hold. And waited. And poked around on the computer. And nothing changed with the TV. Each time a recording came back on the line I swore at them. Badly. Big, bad words. The mother of all swear words! Words that no one should say, finally ending with a string of expletives that would make Whoopee Goldberg blush!
The TV went black. It started going through its paces, re-booting and fixing itself. What? How did it happen? Was it the call? The computer? The cursing? I don’t even care. It’s fixed. I hung up on Beulah, logged off the computer and grabbed my gym bag to go to the pool.
“I think I need a do-over-day,” I said to Himself as I stormed out the door to his laughter. He loves my creative language when I’m really pissed. He won’t be laughing so loud tonight. . .when I shine that blasted flashlight in his eyeballs! Or worse!