Here's the fun part: there's a new cell phone tower on the roof, and in the past two days it's been struck by lightning three times (at least). Evidently, its presence has nothing to do with the buzz on my phone that appeared concurrently, because when I took my phone to the dealer, they nodded, took it to the back room for half an hour, and returned it without any buzz, phone numbers, or photos.
During that half hour, there was a vengeful return of the leg infection, and coming home involved immediately passing out. And just to say, it's one thing to be feverish in a hotel room where the aircon can get ambient temp down to the sticky clamminess of your skin so a hot bath or multiple blankets are relieving, it's another to be home where force of habit keeps the aircon above 26 and you don't have a bathtub and sweating out the blankets gets really gross.
It's also something rather wild to be ripped from hallucinatory fever dreams by lightning striking the building.
But here's the new game that makes me really, really angry.
There was a big financial kerfuffle in December when I discovered that my automatic online credit card payments hadn't been happening after my card was rejected while checking into the hotel (and the next day I got the message that Oma died--Merry Christmas!) I found the securest connection I could and worked out the auto payments so such things would not happen in the future.
Just for kicks, I went on today to make sure everything has been happening alright. Which it has, save for a recurring $69.95 charge. It took a while to find the company online and negotiate their phone tree (it proves easier to just direct dial from overseas, especially since the cell company charges the same anyway), and the nice lady told me that it was a subscription to an internet movie site, lesboblowoutmovies.com
Authorized by me, with my name correctly spelled and everything, my credit card, and my home zip code.
The very nice lady also refunded the charges, thankfully. Still, GARRR!
There is great temptation to run around screaming. If only I could run, and the voice weren't blown out from teaching 7th grade.
During that half hour, there was a vengeful return of the leg infection, and coming home involved immediately passing out. And just to say, it's one thing to be feverish in a hotel room where the aircon can get ambient temp down to the sticky clamminess of your skin so a hot bath or multiple blankets are relieving, it's another to be home where force of habit keeps the aircon above 26 and you don't have a bathtub and sweating out the blankets gets really gross.
It's also something rather wild to be ripped from hallucinatory fever dreams by lightning striking the building.
But here's the new game that makes me really, really angry.
There was a big financial kerfuffle in December when I discovered that my automatic online credit card payments hadn't been happening after my card was rejected while checking into the hotel (and the next day I got the message that Oma died--Merry Christmas!) I found the securest connection I could and worked out the auto payments so such things would not happen in the future.
Just for kicks, I went on today to make sure everything has been happening alright. Which it has, save for a recurring $69.95 charge. It took a while to find the company online and negotiate their phone tree (it proves easier to just direct dial from overseas, especially since the cell company charges the same anyway), and the nice lady told me that it was a subscription to an internet movie site, lesboblowoutmovies.com
Authorized by me, with my name correctly spelled and everything, my credit card, and my home zip code.
The very nice lady also refunded the charges, thankfully. Still, GARRR!
There is great temptation to run around screaming. If only I could run, and the voice weren't blown out from teaching 7th grade.
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