My beloved laptop wouldn't hook up to The Internets today. Also, I have been vexed by a tweaky power cord on the damn thing. I had forgotten all about that. Of course, I already ordered a replacement from the fine folks at Ebay. Have I mentioned how much I love EBay? Today, I mean. In any case, after much digging around with my network connections and trial and error regarding my ISP settings, I finally made a semi-educated guess and surmised the problem wasn't with my laptop at all but with my router. This despite the fact that my PC was working just fine. Shortly after that, both the assholes that live here pissed me off (more later) and I bolted. Clearly, I needed to shop. One pair of Michael Kors slacks (with red and white pinstripes) and a three-pack of CK dress socks (in three colors) later, I was ready to head back to the apartment. It was sweet revenge to overhear The Ex in a phone conversation with a friend. Apparently, the connection problems popped up on his PC as well. Rather than ask for my help, as I've probably repaired three separate computer problems for him already, I still can't believe he seeks advice from friends, from Dell, from anyone but the person who always solves the problem. I guess it's typical of where our non-relationship has deteriorated. We barely speak. Or rather, I rarely speak to him. So I took a shameful amount of glee as he reported that between his inexperienced fiddling and some botched advice from friends, his system was completely fragged. Ah well, I'll probably fix it tomorrow.
A brand new refrigerator was delivered today. The old refrigerator first broke around 1990. It was repaired, but never worked well again. The refrigerator didn't really refrigerate well, and the freezer never froze well. Particularly during the humid New York summer. Most summers lately we (or usually I) would buy a couple of bags of ice from the grocery per week. With three of us living here, it became quite difficult dealing with spoiled food and watery ice cube trays. I contacted the landlord by mail and was delighted to learn he would replace it free of charge. I just needed to arrange for the delivery and make sure someone could be home. Typically, this prompted a flurry of research and phone calls by The Hellcat. He wanted a much bigger model. In silver. With an ice-maker. Apparently, the possible limitations on the offer of a free replacement appliance were not being factored in to his plans at all. Of course, that was the extent of his "help".
So as several months had gone by and with summer coming, I resolved to get it done. After contacting the landlord again and contacting the appliance salesman and arranging for the delivery and then of course, being the sap that actually waits for the delivery men to arrive, and then dealing with the doorknob that had to be removed (by me) to get the damn thing in here, you'd think one of them would have at least said "thank you". You would think. But since The Ex didn't even bother to call me but rather The Hellcat, and the only thing they both could talk about was how now they could have ice cream, I guess a thank you would be way too much to hope for. I should have known. I spent an hour dealing with the delivery. I tipped the delivery men with my money. Then I spent over an hour putting all the food back in the refrigerator, sorting out all the spoiled food and creating a system according to what gets used most. Not even five minutes later The Hellcat arrived with fresh groceries as he promptly set about jamming all the new things in wherever he damned well pleased. Apparently, welfare recipients don't say thank you either.
I am officially, totally unhappy with my living situation and I'm not sure what to do. The apartment is mine, but it doesn't feel like mine. Maybe I should just leave.
In other news ... You need to check out this article from The Body and GMHC written by Bob Huff regarding the hoopla and the hype surrounding the supposed "Super Virus" that sent New York City gay men and bloggers everywhere screaming for the exits like clucking grannies. It's well done and nicely researched. I felt both vindicated and angry by the end. I hope whatever anonymous queen that was that engaged me in an all day e-mail exchange telling me how I'm raining destruction down on the gay "community" reads it so I can say "nyeah, nyeah, nyeah".
Connecticut approves civil unions for gays.
The Wendy's chili finger lady has been arrested.
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