A month ago my new upstairs neighbors arrived and I have been struggling with the noise level ever since. In talking to my source in the apartment office I was led to believe it was a late middle age single woman moving in above me. On the first or second day I observed three adults, a child of three or so, and two dogs entering the apartment.
I was not happy.
The child runs and stomps until she smacks into something and falls down. Whereupon she commencing shrieking at full volume. The dogs bark. And bark. And bark. Bark. Bark. Bark. I was ready to contact the office on several occasions but kept my self in check waiting to see if it would get better.
Well today it did.
Seems that there is only one tenant above me, as promised. The extras were her daughter and granddaughter who were visiting for a month. This morning, while watching the windshield guy do his thing, I also got to watch a man loading the mini-van and a small U-Haul truck with various belongings. At one point I asked, “You aren’t moving out already?” To which he replied that his wife and daughter had been visiting her mom for the past month while he was away at training at Fort Leonard Wood.
Aha.
That explained the mis-matched license plates on the two vehicles. The mini-van was plated in Missouri while the sedan sports a Kansas tag. While I am not certain I am hoping that at least one (two? Please?) of the dogs goes away with the little stomper of joy.
So for once, holding my tongue kept me from looking like a dickhead. All those other times don’t count. Really. Okay, maybe that one time.
This morning’s windshield repair got off to an inauspicious start when the technician called me from my work location. Oops. Luckily it’s only about a 25 minute drive and he was able to come straight to the apartment.
In examining the situation he determined that the original rain sensor (what appeared to be a thick, rubbery film, was still on the sensor head. When combined with the new one on the windshield itself, the doubled thickness was enough to keep the epoxy from gripping and the head unit fell off. This, apparently was the problem during the second visit as well.
The guy this morning found the additional sensor and was able to get a good seating of the sensor head all the way around. I’ll keep the car out of the sun for an hour or so and then we’ll see. After all this futzing around I want to take it to the car wash and see if the rain sensing automatic wipers feature still works.
So far, so good though.
For the past several weeks my normal sleeping pattern has been disturbed. For years I’ve been able to lay down, close my eyes, and be asleep within minutes. It used to annoy Michele that I could be asleep and snoring before she even got comfortable. Maybe twice a year I’d have a bout of insomnia and, after sleeping for thirty or forty minutes I’d wake up and then be up for and hour or two.
In the last month I have had increasing difficulty even getting to sleep, much less staying asleep. I understand that my entire life has been thrown for a loop emotionally, and I suppose it isn’t outside of the realm of possibility that the emotional stress of Michele’s death coupled with my Mom’s death are having a delayed impact. No matter what the cause I am not enjoying not being able to just go to sleep.
I don’t want to take a sleeping aid like Tylenol PM unless I absolutely have to, and since I am eventually getting to sleep I’m not going start drugs just yet. But I need to find someway to readjust either my sleeping habits or my expectations around going to sleep. Maybe it’s time to shift from being an early bird to a night owl.
Recently, in a conversation with a good friend who, in an unbelievable twist of fate is also struggling through the aftermath of a spouse’s death, we talked about special days and ordinary days. The gist of it was that every single day was special for one reason or another. Sure there are “big” days like birthdays, anniversaries, and holidays; all of which are difficult. There are also ordinary days that have meaning through the context of a once shared lifetime together.
Two years ago this weekend was the first weekend Michele and I spent in Kansas City as new residents. Moving here was a last resort and a bitter pill to swallow. We were lonely for home, feeling cutoff from everyone and everything we had known, and scared of the future. We were also excited about new places to explore, new restaurants to try, and new career opportunities for both of us.
Nine years ago this month we were planning our wedding. The excitement of such a momentous affirmation of who were were and who we wanted to be was almost overwhelming. Nothing had ever felt so right, so good to me before. Now it seems as if that happened to another person. In just twenty-six days I will face what would have been our ninth wedding anniversary alone.
Six years ago we were in the midst of moving to South Carolina, stopping along the way to visit family. Michele learned of her Aunt Doris’ death and we drove all night from Illinois to North Carolina in order to attend her funeral. It was my introduction to her extended family. In spite of the somber reason for the gathering, it was special for me to meet the people who had always known Michele. Coming from a small family, being dropped into the midst of a large extended one was exhilarating.
Today is a Friday and for most of the time we lived in Illinois we met every Friday for lunch out. I still miss those lunches and I think about them every week.
Sure, the big days are hard, but in some ways the small, ordinary days are harder.
The second John Rain book, Hard Rain delves deeper into the troubled character of the series protagonist and anti-hero, John Rain.
Rating: Good stuff all around
Buzz Aldrin punches a guy who accuses him of never going to the moon and calls him a coward. But the guy was asking for it. Via digg.
Tuesday’s windshield repair seemed to go smoothly at the time. The glass is fine, but the rain sensor promptly fell off it’s mounting point and is now dangling behind the inside rear-view mirror. When I discovered this on the way home yesterday I called the installer and scheduled a second repair for today.
The first repair was “scheduled” to happen between 8:00 am and 12:00 pm. Naturally the installer showed up precisely at 12:00. So when I was told that the new appointment could be today between 1:00 and 5:00 I explained that I’d be leaving work at 3:00 so that car’s location would change after that time. The dispatcher then wanted to schedule a range that ended at 3:00; recalling the result of that on Tuesday, I said it had to be completed no later than three.
So now I have a “scheduled” visit between 8:00 am and 2:00 pm.
Why can’t they just say, “You’re number x on a list of y customers, and the typical service call lasts 45 minutes, so we’ll call you around (x times 45 minutes after 8:00) to let you know the exact time.”
Obviously, since the time spans the lunch hour, they will call just after I get my meal heated up and back to my desk – regardless of the time I decide to eat.
Sigh.
My worst fears about the reapplication of the rain sensor to the inside of my new windshield were realized this afternoon. Just 90 minutes after the repair was completed the sensor was once again dangling from its wire harness.
<Expletive deleted />
I called the SafeLite people once again (it’s a bad sign when you can remember their phone number only two days after learning of them for the first time.) and scheduled a Saturday morning appointment here at home. (A) The car will have been in the garage overnight rather than in direct 97 degree sunshine. In other words the surface temperature of the glass won’t rival molten lava. (B) I won’t have to negotiate with the building guards at work who are only doing there job, but complicating this process anyway.
Should this repair fail to hold I’ll be on the phone to Progressive immediately. It was only at their recommendation and promise “to fight for me” that I went with the 3rd party and not Lexus themselves.
One of the books I’m currently reading is all about the tipping point; that place in the lifetime of a thing where a phase transformation occurs. For example the tipping point between liquid water and ice occurs at 32 degrees Fahrenheit. (I’ve only just started the book so my understanding and example maybe a bit off.) There’s been a tipping point recently in my life it seems.
While the center of my focus for months now has been continuing to cope with Michele’s death combined with preparing for, and now dealing with, my Mom’s death, I have also been inching towards the future. For reasons I’m not going to divulge here, a phase transformation has taken place in my emotional center. The barriers I had erected to keep any thoughts of future relationships at bay have been breached.
I’m not entirely sure how to proceed, but I do know that I’m not going to be happy just sitting inside my cave and moping forever. I’m also a bit hesitant about this new found elation, wondering when it will end, and wondering how far I’ll fall when it does. My emotions have been so low for so long that having anything approaching normal is startling and odd.
Perhaps the oddest part is discovering that I can day-dream about the future without feeling tremendously guilty about leaving Michele further behind. I had a very good talk with her best friend, and one of my best friends, L the other evening, and she assured me that everything I was thinking and feeling was normal. She also assured me that Michele would want me to move on and find new happiness in my life.
As Michele would put it, when you are an anteater you have to go forth and suck ants.