Tired but wired

Yesterday: Moving day, again. We now have all the furniture moved out of the apartment, including the big couch and the fridge — hooray! Many thanks to all who helped (Kent and his kids, Laura, Lina, Solomon, Jeff, and Anita, with honorable mentions for Sidney and the pizza guy). Now I just need to put the refrigerator door back on sometime.

Today: I tried to mow the lawn, which meant going out and buying gas (and discovering that we don’t have a lid for our gas can). The lawnmower I’m borrowing from John works pretty well, aside from not having power-drive wheels. I got all the front yard and about half of the back yard before I decided to wander inside and collapse from something between heat exhaustion and heat stroke. (Yes, really. I’m a wuss about heat.) Cold washcloth wasn’t helping (I could practically see the steam coming off the washcloth), but a cold shower improved matters a bit. Even so, I suspect I would have gotten a brutal migraine if I hadn’t decided to take some Excedrin. The mower sat there in the backyard from about 11:00 until about 8:00 tonight when I finally moved it back in. I haven’t finished mowing the backyard yet; I’ll try to do that early tomorrow while it’s still cool out. For future reference, mowing the lawn is probably a two-day task; it’s not that big a lawn, but it’s hotter work than I’m in any shape for. I should probably start going to Tae Kwon Do again and get myself in shape or something.

Sam came over this afternoon, and we drilled holes with a serious drill bit, spent a great deal of time trying to buy a co-ax wire-stripper that worked, cut holes, dodged cats, and fished wires. As a result, the computer room now has both cable and Ethernet. I’m back online! Hooray! Of course, there’s still lots of cleanup (screw holes to be drilled, wall plates to be attached, wallboard dust to be vacuumed, tools to be put away, duct to be re-closed, wall plate to be surgically altered, wall vent and ceiling tiles to be put back on) that I haven’t even started yet. (Well, I’ve sort of started on it, in that I went back to the apartment to get our handheld vacuum. Haven’t used it yet, but I did go and get it.)

Whew. Long weekend. Good weekend.

Now I’ve just got to box up the rest of our stuff by the end of the month. Whee. Keep those boxes coming, Sidney.

Why can’t spammers spell?

Honestly. “Your account information needs to be renew”? “Deletation”? And these people want me to think it’s PayPal sending me this message?

And people actually fall for this. I can understand them being bamboozled by the hyperlink (especially since Hotmail encourages scams by obfuscating the URL), but come on, don’t people read? It’s scary, if a bit Darwin-Awardish. Economic survival of those with the fittest educations.

Still, it’s sad. You really would think that, after succesfully scamming their first victim, they’d be able to pay for a proofreader.

Dear PayPal valued member,

Due to concerns, for the safety and integrity of the PayPal
community we have issued this warning message.

It has come to our attention that your account information needs to be renew due to
inactive members, spoof reports and frauds.
You must to renew your records and you will not
run into any future problems with the online service.
However, failure to update your records will result in account deletation.
This notification expires on July 11, 2004.

Once you have updated your account records your PayPal will not be
interrupted and will continue as normal.

Please follow the link below
and renew your account information.


PayPal Service Department

Joining the landed gentry

We’re joining the throngs of people with tax deductions and lawnmowers. Yes, indeed, we just closed on the house. Hooray!

Oddly enough, not only did we not have to bring money to closing, but through one convolution and another, we actually got money back. (Which was good, because we didn’t get the final word on the numbers until half an hour before closing, which wouldn’t have left any time to stop by the bank to get a cashier’s check.) In fact, whenever the wire transfer comes through, we’ll get our entire earnest deposit back! Of course, any money we get back now is money we’ll have to pay back with interest later, but it helps with the little things, like the doors that need replacing, and of course the lawnmower situation. And going out to eat to celebrate (after we get our vacuum, bed, washing machine, and cats moved in). We deserve it. Or will by then, anyway; it’s bleeping humid out there.

But, wow. We have a house. I’m not sure it’s sunk in yet. It’ll probably do that at 2:00 in the morning again.

And now, on to moving. Yecch.

Closing today Friday

After several phone calls asking where we were supposed to be for closing and what time we were supposed to be there and how much money we were supposed to bring with us (nobody knew), and several people having quit their jobs and having left paperwork in limbo (and nobody getting told about it), and several people not being told that other people were going to be heading out of town (how do you go out of town and not tell the people you work with?), and several people not being able to get hold of the people who were out of town so they could ask questions about what the heck this receipt was for (arrgh), and several obscure forms of paperwork having to be mail-ordered instead of being available online as PDFs like civilized paperwork (bureaucrats!), and several people not knowing about said waiting period on said obscure forms of paperwork (ack!), and several people swearing up and down that they would call us to let us know about said waiting periods and the consequences thereof (they didn’t)…

…it’s looking like we may close on the house on Friday.

<fingers state=”crossed” />

Too late, Mr. Jenkins. You were an F7 back at question 2

This story is worth a read. It’s by someone who used to work in a call center, screening job applicants. Some choice quotes:

My favorite exchange that I had was this:

“Have you ever been convicted of a felony?”

“Uhmmm… I’m gonna need to switch phones.”

When I launched into the actual interview, it really pissed them off. They’d get furious that the freaking receptionist had the audacity to waste their time by … And then round about question 5 it would dawn on them that this was the interview.

By the time I got off the phone I wanted to douse myself with bleach and burn the headset. I went to the supervisor’s desk and explained that I’d just spent 20 minutes talking to a convicted child rapist. They said I could take a 15-minute break.

Thanks to Raymond Chen for posting the link.