Diary of a SubUrban Housewife

August 21, 2007

That Thing Zooming Past Me is Time

Filed under: Zoe — Beth @ 6:21 pm

I often wonder if times moves as fast for people without children as it does for those of us with children.

Zoe started 7th grade today.


Man....7th grade.

August 11, 2007

For the Record

Filed under: My Old Man,Webishness — Beth @ 8:09 pm

I have suggested to Chuck that we podcast at least half a dozen times over the last two months.

August 7, 2007

Attention California:

Filed under: Around the Neighborhood — Beth @ 7:34 pm

To People Who Live in The State of California: If for some reason find you have to go to the DMV, go here first and make yourself an appointment. You will thank me later. It’s the most civilized thing on the entire planet.

To The DMV in The State of California: Your appointment system rocks. However, if there was one teeny tiny area where you could use the slightest bit of improvement: it would be super nice if you put a small mirror on the back of the thing you stand in front of to take your ID/license photo. Last minute lipstick/hair checks would greatly enhance the picture taking experience.

August 2, 2007

Listen to that inner voice…

Filed under: All About Me — Beth @ 5:19 pm

It’s been a wacky week here. 

Monday afternoon Zoe and I were driving and out of nowhere a car turned left right in front of us.  I had to slam on the brakes and swerve to avoid hitting this brainless person.  A close call but we were fine.  A little shaken up, but fine.

Then about 10 minutes later we were about to turn left when a motorcycle came tearing around a corner.  Once again slam on the brakes.  No swerving this time since we weren’t even close to hitting anything, but we take extra care to be mindful of motorcycle drivers in this family.

After this second incident I told Zoe we needed to go home and get in bed for a few days.  We had no business being out and about in the world since obviously there was some bad juju for me out there.  I just had a bad feeling.

Next day it’s Tuesday.  I have to go into the office for a few hours.  I mean actually put on real clothes and drive 30+ miles to my actual physical office.  It was a blissfully uneventful drive down there.  Unforunately, I cannot say the same for the drive home. 

As I was merging onto the 5 Freeway I accelerated to get up to speed with the moving traffic (since 55 is a long ago forgotten suggestion and the average speed is 75), and my gas pedal got stuck.  In full acceleration mode.  I pressed on the brakes with my other foot and used the toe of my driving foot to dislodge the accelerator.  Mercifully, the freeway was wide open in front of me as I got the car under control.

I contained my freak out until I could get home, though I was a bit shakey and over-adrenalined (a new medical condition I’ve just invented) for the five or ten miles following the incident.

I once again decide that bed is probably the safest place for me.

Then Wednesday rolls around.  We stay indoors for the entire day, but I had a project that night that I had to go to and Zoe had a swim party to attend.  After dropping Zoe at the swim party I make my way across the Valley to my installation at a hospital.  It was an uneventful drive though I was extra cautious.  I was mindful of my bad juju.

I get to the area where we’re working and I put my stuff down:  my sunglasses, two cell phones, and my brand new clutch wallet which contains my car key fob, house key, drivers license, ATM cards, credit cards, and about $100 (yes, my entire life). 

I walk through the area with the hospital’s project manager.  Two of the rooms we’re walking in are in this area then we walk about 10 feet down the hall to the third and final area we’re working in.  As we walk down the hall it occurs to me that hey, I left all my stuff out in the open in the other room.  Then I figure it’s OK since my crew and their janitor are the only ones in this area at this time of day. 

Well, silly me. 

We return to the area where my things are less than five minutes after we left and my wallet is gone.  Poof.  Nowhere in sight.  I tear the place apart, getting more frantic by the second. 

I filed a report with the hospital’s security people.  They were as helpful as you might imagine, asking questions like whether I’d searched the area for my property.  Wow, that’s a great idea.  I wonder why I hadn’t thought of that??????

My best friend went by my house and grabbed my spare car key and drove it to me.  She even gave me all the cash she had ($6.00) so I would have something.  I found a locksmith who would take checks come over and change all the locks on the house last night.  I cancelled credit cards.  (Frankly, I was so pathetic that American Express and Capital One said they would Federal Express the cards to me at no additional charge.)  I filed a police report.   I made an appointment at DMV for a new license.  I filed fraud alerts.  I cried.

And I cried.  A lot.  Disproportionately probably to the size of the event.  I wasn’t hurt.  It is only things that are gone.  But I feel so voilated.

Today things are looking a bit brighter.  I’m still teary and since it’s been nearly 24 hours since my wallet vanished I can actually talk about it without completely breaking down. 

I was reluctant to even leave the house today but I’m hoping that since bad things happen in 3′s I’m finished.  I braved going to the bank since, though I was able to get someone on the phone at Wells Fargo last night, I was stymied by BofA.  The automated system was happy to tell me my account balance, but no matter how many times I yelled customer service to the horrible automated system I couldn’t actually get a live person on the phone.  The people of Bank of America were surprisingly kind and cashed a check for me even though I don’t have one single piece of identification.

So…I’m going to lay low for the rest of the day.  And the next time that inner voice tells me to get in bed, you know I’m going to actually listen.