Worn Out

Oy... it's been a hell of a week. First, those of you that are indentured to T-Mobile know that the Sidekick and all its variants (Sidekick! Color Sidekick! Sidekick II! Sidekick 3-D! Sidekick Magnum! Sidekick for Her! Sidekick for Him! Sidekick for the Socially Inverted!) have been on the fritz all week. But for me, it started this past Saturday, March 5. I woke up that morning, and nothing was really working. Now, I'm not that addicted to Sidekick, and I got it mostly at my better half's insistence, but since we both have a pager, it's become our communication lifeline. So it was kind of frustrating all week, since I'm her chauffeur. Not to mention it's a lifesaver at the grocery store ("Honey, is that one package or seven? Did you mean two pounds or eight pounds? This scribble here looks like Wonder Bread... Wonder Bra... so can you tell me what you really meant before I come home without it?"). It was a minor inconvenience, really. But that was just the start.

Then the cord on my wife's laptop wore out and shuffled its inanimate coil. Since I'm banging away as I speak on a troglodyte of a computer, while my wife's baby is at least from a later period, she couldn't exactly use mine. Not to mention this isn't a laptop, it's a rather more cumbersome desktop. Can't exactly strap it to her back and expect her to carry it to school with her. So a quick order online, and we wait for the delivery of a new cord.

Next up is our car. Our wonderful, reliable car, a definite lifesaver in this town. Our just-paid-off junior member of the household. The car decided its battery had outworn its welcome, and left us stranded in Echo Park at rush hour (for the uninitiated: Echo Park is one of L.A.'s oldest suburbs, and has long been a working-class to poor neighborhood; mostly Mexican/Latino the last few decades. It's now slowly gentrifying). Some very nice folks gave us a jump start, and we drove home. I was a bit troubled, but didn't think anything more of it. Two days later, the car wouldn't start. This was again at rush hour, just as it was getting dark. Luckily, I was home, so I just let it be. The next morning, I called Triple-A. I misplaced the TTY number, so I just called their number through relay. I rattled off what the problem was, explained what I wanted, then gave my address.

"I'm sorry, sir, this is the Northern California number. I'll have to transfer you."

I'm a bit annoyed.

"If my card is from Southern California Automobile Association, why does it have the NorCal number on it??"

"I really wouldn't know, sir." Ah, incompetence reigns.

After getting the correct number from him, he transfers me. The pleasant woman on the other end remarks, "I usually handle this through the TTY, but okay. Go ahead." I'm surprised. It's not often I get someone on the other end who not only knows what a TTY is, but uses it, and actually expects ME to use it. I give the same spiel, and away we go. The car gets jumped, and I jump myself to the nearest store to get a new battery.

Tonight I'm cleaning up as best as I can, shuttling between laundry, stacks of paper, and the dishes. My parents, who *never* visit, are actually coming here tomorrow afternoon, and I want the place to be half-way presentable. I think the only time my dad was ever here was the day we moved in, and the last time my mom was here was a couple years ago, when I was in the hospital for surgery. I'm also remembering a five-minute pit stop, to show my sister (who was visiting from Boston) where we lived and to make sure everyone had a chance to use our bathroom before they hit the highway home. It's so nice to be conveniently located, isn't it?

It's not the craziest week of my life, or the busiest, but it's certainly had its share of problems and moments. My Sidekick is finally functioning again, DHL delivered the new computer cord this afternoon, the car has a spanking-new battery, and our apartment looks halfway decent. Now I just gotta get through tomorrow...