January 2009

What a weird fucking month

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To start off this new year, my apartment was broken into.  This has already been the subject of many-a-blog, but the event led to me barricading my door, carrying mace into the kitchen to cook, sleeping with a hammer, not leaving my house for a week because I was afraid someone was going to steal my cat.  I have also racked up about some hefty cab fares this month for fear of walking to the bus stop at night, even early night.  It never really bothered me before.  The paranoia has basically subsided, but it’s still sort of there…getting better though.

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In this month, it has become incredibly clear to me that my husband and I really are officially on our own.  It sort just sort of hit me.  I’ve been living independently pretty much since my sophomore year of college, but have always felt that I could fall back on my parents, or Derek on his, if we really needed it.  They helped us with our wedding, even though we didn’t ask, and numerous other things smaller things.  As is probably the case with many other people in this recession, that safety net isn’t really there anymore.  We have a decent savings for being perpetual students, but I just realized how much money this isn’t this month, which leads into the next eventful thing.

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On Monday of this week, my husband called me.  I thought it was because he was going to buy plane tickets to come and visit, because we had just talked about it on Sunday.  He found our dachshund who lives with him paralyzed at home and called me from the emergency vet.  They weren’t sure what exactly was wrong with her, but knew it was something to do with her spine; they had to do some invasive tests to figure it out and would do the appropriate surgery right after the test since she would already be under.

We had to lay out the whole plan of deciding what to do before they did anything.  It wasn’t easy because she is an old dog, anesthesia is a huge risk for old animals and there was a possibility it could have been a tumor.  If it were a tumor, it’s unlikely that surgery or other treatment would improve the quality of her life for long.  If it were something with the spine itself, surgery was an option, but only had a 50-70% success rate.  On top of that, the surgery could irreversibly paralyze her.  Let’s not forget that we are talking about a vet here, so the surgery also is very expensive.  Expensive in the way that it is on the threshold where you are weighing your dogs life with financial security, and in today’s economy, that is important.

Weighing all of these options in one afternoon was not very much fun.  It really sucks to weigh how much you can afford against your dogs life.

This happened with my cat too about 2 years ago.  We had much, much, much less money then and he was clearly ill…a quick decline of about 2 months.  I chose to euthanize him because we simply could not afford the treatments and surgery he would need to extend his already long life by a very short time, with little promise of actual improving the quality of it.  I also saw it in his eyes, that he was trying to die.  It was probably the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but I do not regret doing it.  I did what was best for my cat, given the circumstances.

Anyway, it turned out she had a herniated disk that was inhibiting motor functions, and we opted for the surgery.  It was worth it, because she survived it and seems to be improving.  Only time will tell if she makes a full recovery, but as long as she is happy and not in pain, we can deal with whatever extra attention she will need – she is alive.

It sounds like a really awful thing to say, but it was difficult parting with that money when there was no guarantee it would work.  However, I don’t know if I could have lived with putting down a dog who just the day before was healthy as could be, and since we had the money, I knew we had to try.  I didn’t get to see her because she is with my husband, but I don’t imagine she had the same look in her eyes that my cat did.

Luckily, we have human health insurance so we don’t have to worry about situations like this.  I can’t imagine what families go through when this happens to people.

The part that really scares me though, is now that our liquid savings is in it’s depleted state, what if something else happens?  What if our families need our help?  Which relates back to the previous section.  It just made me realize how fragile everything is.

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I have also learned that someone I care about attempted suicide.  I still haven’t fully digested this one yet and am not ready to write about my feelings regarding it.

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On a lighter note, I am moving in with a lovely married couple to finish out my research.  No, I am not moving out of the city because my place was broken into.  I love the city and would love to stay here, but my lease is up and it would be incredibly expensive to find a short term lease here.  They offered, they are cool, so I accepted.  This makes the “weird fucking month” post because when I actually think about it, it’s weird.  I am moving in with two people who are married.  I think of all of the weird shit that my husband and I do at home and realize that I will probably witness some their weird shit, though I feel like I’ve already seen plenty of their weird shit.  I also sort of feel like “that girl” who doesn’t have her life together and has to crash with friends.  It will be more fun than weird though, but I had to note it because this just doesn’t happen every month.

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Resolutions update.

I have been working hard on my dissertation – six hours of real actual work every weekday.  I haven’t been totally miserable doing it, but I don’t know if I can say if I am enjoying it.  Maybe occasionally.  I remember once instance this month of feeling happy doing research.  I am just doing it, but it’s better than I’ve felt about it ever, so that’s a start to enjoying doing my research.

What is good is even with this nutjob month, I have kept my focus.  I have not missed an hour of work.  This is incredible progress for me, because I am a serious tense-afraid type procrastinator.  Here is the description, with the parts left out that do not describe me, courtesy of wikipedia

The tense-afraid type of procrastinator usually feels overwhelmed with pressure, unrealistic about time, uncertain about goals and many other negative feelings. Feeling that they lack the ability or focus to successfully complete their work, they tell themselves that they need to unwind and relax, that it’s better to take it easy for the afternoon, for example, and start afresh in the morning. They usually have grandiose plans that aren’t realistic. Their ‘relaxing’ is often temporary and ineffective, and leads to even more stress as time runs out, deadlines approach and the person feels increasingly guilty and apprehensive. This behavior becomes a cycle of failure and delay, as plans and goals are put off, penciled into the following day or week in the diary again and again.

I have also been keeping up with ballet.  Classes start next week, I am excited.  I haven’t been working out at the gym as much as I would like, but ballet is a pretty good work out.

I’m not sure if I am being a better wife or not.  I’m not even really sure what that means, it’s a pretty vague resolution, since I am at least a decent wife to begin with.  Anyway, probably not any better than usual.  My dissertation has kind of put me in the self-absorbed state, which I don’t really like.

Renters insurance

I don’t buy my own jewelry.  Every piece of decent jewelry that I own was a gift from someone special.  I am not a big jewelry wearer, but every piece I own had a (cheesy alert!) special place in my heart…and it is nice to have nice jewelry, even if I only wear it on occasion.

The jewelry that was stolen from me had more sentimental value than monetary value…or at least that’s what I thought.  It turns out that it will cost $1300 to replace the jewelry stolen from me.  $1300 for 6 pieces of jewelry!!!  I have no idea how much any of these things cost when they were purchased, hopefully less than that because that is a butt-ton of money to spend on jewelry for someone who on most days only wears her wedding rings.  Plus the main buyers know that I appreciate a good sale.

Everything stolen is physically replaceable, but there are two items that I will miss terribly.  One was the bracelet I wore on my wedding day, which was actually a gift from my husband a few years back.  It was classy and beautiful.  At least it is photographed so I can remember it.  The matching necklace was stolen too, but I didn’t not wear that on my wedding day.  The necklace I did wear was with my while I was gone and was not stolen.  The other thing I will miss terribly is a necklace from my father which was a silver “J” with a tiny diamond in it.  I loved this one because it was casual, but nice jewelry and one I wore more often than my other stolen necklaces.

I would so much rather just have my old jewelry back, never have had anyone break into my home, never had barricaded my door and spoke the Queen’s English with Maggie, but when I get that check from my renters insurance, minus the $500 deductible of course (which I originally thought was $1000, but that was for something else, ppheeeww!), I will feel marginally better.

So if you don’t have renters’ insurance, get it.  It’s totally worth it.

My whole experience could have been so much worse.  So much.  I could have been home, my roommate could have been home, and I know these people were at least wielding a pry bar of some sort, if not more.  Maggie could have been home.  My identity could have been stolen.  My laptop, aka my life’s work, could have been stolen.  While renters insurance couldn’t actually replace any of these things, it’s a nice feeling to know that I wouldn’t have to worry about the monetary repercussions of it.

The barricade

I spent a week barricading myself and my cat in my room at night.  I am not joking.  I did it every night since getting back.  The first night I didn’t do it, which was Saturday, I woke up every hour because I thought I heard something and ended up doing it anyway.  I am now on my second night of not doing it and being able to sleep.  Last night, I woke up once because I thought I heard something, but feel back asleep.  I am still jumpy as hell though.

As stupid as this may sound, I am afraid to leave my house because I am afraid that someone is going to come in and either take Maggie or let her out.  I had to leave my house today because I had a meeting.  Yesterday, I left briefly to go to Starbucks and do research and was worried the whole time, so I just went home.  Starbucks was the first time I left the house for more than 20 minutes in about a week.

Does renters’ insurance cover time lost due to insanity?

I have finally lost my marbles

My apartment was broken into while I was on vacation last week.  I guess I have been enjoying living the city too  much, so it thought I needed a taste of the ugly side of the city.

Since returning, I have felt weird being in my apartment, especially at night.  For the last few nights, to allow myself to fall asleep, I have wedged things between my door and my bed so that if someone were to try to open the door, they would fail miserably.

Better than an alarm system

In this picture, I am sitting on my solid engineered wood bed, which is against the wall.  The underbed storage container is right against the bed and the suitcase.  The suitcase, which has 40lbs worth of dumbbells in it, is snuggly sitting between the desk and the underbed storage container.  The desk is butted up against the door.

My next plans include electrifying the doorknob which will then trigger 1000lbs of bricks to fall from the ceiling.

I am on the second floor, which provides safety, because for someone to get into my window, they would have to do some serious wall scaling.  However, being on the second floor makes my escape plan a little more difficult.

I should mention that during this week, not only have I started barricading myself in my room at night, but my cat, Maggie, has also starting speaking the Queen’s English to me when no one else is around.  This has been helpful because we came up with an escape plan from the second floor.

Step 1:  Maggie jumps in her carrying case.  She has been practising.  (Practicing spelled the way Maggie prefers)

I'm ready mum

Step 2:  Make rope out of curtains.

Step 3:  Put laptop, cell phone, wallet, keys, wedding rings, mace and hammer in the extra compartments with Maggie.

Step 4:  Climb out of window with Maggie in tow.  Her carrying case has a shoulder strap so I am free to climb down the rope.

Step 5:  Hop over backyard wall and hide in neighbors garden.

Bang Fuckin Camaro

I can’t even explain how much we hyped up this concert.  We talked about it for years.  The hype even involved lying to and deceiving loved ones.  I don’t know why it was so hyped up, maybe because are getting old and realize how boring our lives can be, but we waited so long for this concert.

After a few years, and one missed Bang Camaro concert, when another concert was actually in the foreseeable future, we discussed buying tickets.  My husband lived 3000 miles away, so he couldn’t come.  My underground-musician name-dropping friend, who originated the the hype, had a fiancee who refused to go.  I am not sure why she refused, but it may have involved the amount of hype and the lying and deceiving…   Her friend also would not go for questionable reasons, but her husband was down for it.  The nerds who weren’t going all studied math together (coincidence that they weren’t cool enough to go? …I think not, it’s because of the math) and thus originated ‘the others’, as the significant others of the math nerds were the only ones going to the concert.  Being spiteful people, the hype continued, and can be said to have culminated in the form of a poster.  The poster was updated once my husband said he would have gone had he been within a reasonable radius.

The night started with people dressed in colonial costumes, and it ended with a giant man-gasm on stage.  I can’t explain Bang Camaro any better than a bunch of musicians who all want to be frontmen up on stage having one giant orgasm in the form of a hair-metal chorus.  Seems gay, but sounds awesome!

Somehow this concert lived up to the years of hype it generated, a very rare feat.  It has taken me 5 days to fully recover from the concert of the century.

The first thing I had to recover from was drinking too much – typical.  I love that I am 25 and I still don’t know my limits.  I never go out with the intention of getting shitfaced, though BFC was a huge deal, and I did plan and drinking enough to be fully socially lubricated, just in case they invited me to dance onstage.  They didn’t, but I did meet one of the (eight) lead singers at the bar.  He is married, and so am I, but he still could of bought me a drink.  Geez, what kind of a rockstar is that…or maybe it’s totally rockstar, I don’t know.  It took me about a day to recover from the drinking.  Going shopping with your mom is very sobering, so that probably sped up the process a tad.  She came to my house the following morning and I was still in bed, dying.

The next problem was my hearing.  I am not joking when I say that I was partially deaf.  When we got out of the concert, I could not hear a god damn thing, but everyone around me was yelling so it was OK, except the cab driver.  The poor cab driver.  The next morning, my ears were ringing so badly, especially my left one.  On the bus to go shopping, my mom was on my left side trying to talking to me and what I heard was “wacka wacka wacka”, you know, like the adults on Charlie Brown.  I spent most of the day not talking because I didn’t know how loudly I was talking and I couldn’t hear anything anyone else was saying.  By Monday, I could understand what people were saying to me, but the ringing in my ears was enough to drive me insane.  I had to have sound on so I didn’t hear this constant sinusoidal “piiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii” at a few different frequencies.  It’s now Thursday, and I can say that my hearing is mostly back to normal.  There has always been a “piiiiiiiii” at one frequency ever since I can remember, and it is still there, maybe a little worse.  The thing that sucks is that I was so used to it I didn’t think about it – when I was little, I thought I could hear extrordinary things like light waves going through my head. I was kind of disappointed when I learned it’s just tinnitus – but now I have been made aware of it again.  Dammit.

Anyway, it was totally worth it, even if I had gone completely deaf.  The concert lived up to the hype, and it’s been the most fun going out I’ve had in a while.  I’m sorry the ‘not others’ had to miss it, and they certainly will hear about it for the rest of their lives.  Hell, my grandchildren will probably even hear about it.

There are good people left in the world…even in Philadelphia

Yesterday, I ran the Race for Hope 5K in Philadelphia.  Subsequently, I lost my mp3 player case which also included my keys, license, cash.  I had these great headphones from Bose, which were worth more than everything else in the case combined.  Needless to say, I was freaking out.  One, because of the headphones, two, because I couldn’t get back into my house.  I paced up and down 4 block stretch between the 22nd and the fountains on Ben Franklin Pkwy for about an hour or so looking desperately for it and asking lots of people if they have seen it along the road.  I began thinking hard about where it could be and became concerned because I had this strange encounter with a man and his dogs, where his dogs were blocking the street and I couldn’t get by and he seemed to be doing it on purpose, it was weird.  I thought that perhaps I was being set up to be pick-pocketed…yeah this guy was that weird.  Somehow, I managed to not lose my cell phone and a bus token, so I called my roommate and my landlord to see when they were going to be around so I could get back in and I gave up looking and swallowed my loss.

On my way home, I called my husband and then my mom.  The word “pick-pocket” came out of everyone’s mouth before I even mentioned the weird dog incident, so I was beginning to accept my theory.  Though, I really hoped that someone had picked it up and was just going to mail it to my dad’s, which is the address on my license.

This morning, way before I wanted to answer my cell phone, a woman from the Race for Hope called me and told me she had my stuff and that she had gotten my phone number from the race.  She was set to mail it to the address on my license, but since the address was not local, she was concerned that I was stranded in the city or something.  I’m not stranded, but I would have rather have it mailed here than to my dad’s, so that is good.  I can’t even explain how happy I was, not just that I am getting my stuff back, but that someone didn’t steal it.  They did exactly what I thought a decent human being should have done, plus some.  I told her to keep the cash for her troubles, but I am not sure if she is going to.