Monday, January 14, 2008

Let's play catch up, shall we?

Grab your coffee, folks, this one's a doozy!
(This is what you get when I don't blog more than a picture or a recipe for a week.)

Weiner, whiner.
I am a spoiled, spoiled wife. I spent weeks talking to my husband every day. And then . . . we went three days with no phone call and it just about broke me.

You don't realize how cherished those conversations are (even the ones where neither has anything to say, or you're both pissy), until they aren't there.

Stick a fork in me, I'm done. So over this deployment crap.

Yes, I am that customer.

The husband ordered me an absolutely rockin' anniversary present. He ordered it before our anniversary, which was the 1st, and I just got the email with the shipping info and tracking number on Friday. Their site claims 7-10 day shipping. Friday was day 13. Strike one.

I checked the tracking number from UPS, and saw that it said there had already been an attempted delivery. Which was odd, because I was home all day (because I have no life) and even saw the truck, but never had the buzzer ring. Late Friday night, I checked the number again and, lo and behold, it said the package was delivered. And it was signed for by someone that clearly did not have the same last name as me. Strike two.

I called UPS and found out that the sender (where the husband ordered from) had written a 0 instead of a 1, and it had been delivered to another apartment in my complex. So, UPS, not at fault.

This morning, I called the company to resolve this issue (I use resolve lightly - I generally demand my way or the highway). I lucked out and got the chick who can't think of an answer for herself and had to put me on hold every 13 seconds. After going round and round that I did not actually have a brand new Kitchen Aid mixer, Artisan style in Pistachio, sitting right next to me, she wised up and called UPS herself. While I sat on hold. For a very, very long time.

I don't know what she got out of her conversation with them, but when she came back on the phone her explanation was that UPS delivers your package to your neighbor's house when you aren't home. (*scratches head*)

In the end, she had three options for me: 1) Go over there and ask them for it myself (Nope, not happening). 2) Have them send out a trace through UPS for it, and then have it delivered striahgt to me from them. (Again, not happening, we paid for a new mixer and damnit, I'm getting a new mixer - not one someone else may have done who knows what with). 3)Send out the trace, which would take about 10 days, have it delivered back to the company, and then they would send out my new one. (So, I will have waited 4 weeks by then. Nope, not happening.) Strikes three through five.

So, I told them to suck it and cancel my effing order.
(Well, not really in those words. But I wanted to.)

We just can't have nice things!
Looky, looky what has come to live with me!

When I jump into something, I dive all the way in. So, having found a penchant for sewing, I got myself a serger. Logical step, right? (Yes, you are entitled to roll your eyes at this point.)

The project list is piling up, and the storage for fabric is growing full.E is going to be one stylin' kid, if I can get the hang of this. And, if I don't break it any more than I already have.

Yeah, that's right. The machine was in my possession for less than 20 minutes before I broke the thread rod. Well, actually, my dad broke it by reclining the seat in my car back onto it . . . but we aren't telling him that.

Someone tell her to stop growing up!
So, the reason for the complete and utter lack of sleep? Well, I could blame Burgh Baby for starting the trend and sending out the word to all kiddos to protest sleep at all costs . . . But, shockingly, there seems to be a real explanation this time.

Teeth number 7 and 8 have shown up. Yes, folks, that's 8 teeth in 7 weeks. Nothing like life in the fast lane of development.

And speaking of development . . . I'm going to go broke buying new pants for this kid. (Unless I can keep scoring them for less than $2.50 at Old Navy like I did yesterday.) She is not even 9 months old, and we had to size up to 18-24 months. I put her in the 12-18 right before Christmas, and they are now mid-calf length. (Yay, capris!)

I was smart though. I snatched up a couple of 2Ts as well. You know, for next month, when these don't fit.

Mommy ain't too bright, now is she?
Note to self: Do not teach the kid a new trick and make her laugh while she is eating peas. Not only do they stain the carpet, but green cat puke stains worse. And cats puke when they eat peas. Even just one.


Jess said...

Hi Jayna, thanks for reading my blog. I like yours, am enjoying your stories!!

That post about UPS reminds me of the time I ordered a clock for my cousin and her new husband since I couldn't be at the wedding. I ordered it from a company called ALL ABOUT TIME. They shipped it but it never got there. UPS says they knocked on my cousin's door numerous times, no answer so they left it at the side door. But there is no side door. Then they said it was left at the house next door which was her mother in law's house, nope not there either. Never found out what happened buit I demanded that another one be sent. I hate dealing with these shipping companies!

Heather said...

NO WAY! The idiot in your apartment complex didn't even try to find you to give you the mixer? Wha?

Lying, dishonest freaks. Sometimes people suck.

Burgh Baby's Mom said...

You do random better than anybody. I bow to your majesty.

Apparently E didn't get the memo outlining the change in the sleep deprivation policy. Weekends? Sleep through the night. Weekdays when Mommy needs to wake up at 6:00? Wake up screaming lots. At least E had an excuse--that many teeth at one time has to be unpleasant.

Amazon might be slightly cheaper for the mixer, if you're taking your business elsewhere. The white is WAY cheaper, but the pistachio is prettier. Anyway, here's the link

I'm in awe that your neighbor managed to get a free KitchenAid Mixer and didn't think to wonder about it. Jerk(ette).