Insult to Injury

The phone situation actually worked out well--I didn't have to raise my voice or even break a sweat. The guy at Cingular was friendly and cooperative, allowed me to vent, took my returns without complaint, and then gave me a phone much better suited to me. Moral? Go to the store.

Here's where the insult/injury thing comes in: Teddy and I return home, cobble together some dinner, and then climb the stairs to watch The Simpsons before beginning our respective homework. AND THE TV WON'T WORK. I fussed. I finagled. I called the cable company and was assured the cable was just fine (which, honestly, I pretty much knew because the broadband Internet service was A-OK). So I went to the basement and lugged the battered and tattered 19-inch that was the first television I bought with my own money, way back in 1993, up two flights of stairs. I heaved the suspect TV off the stand and replaced it with the smaller one, and lo! It's alive! It barely works, but well enough to confirm that the other TV is dead.

So remember that tax return I mentioned yesterday? Part of that is going to have to purchase a new television. Any suggestions, Joke?

Oh, and Joke? STOP READING NOW. Trust me.

Because I'd like to bring the rest of you a brief CUPDATE: We have lift-off! I actually woke up early this morning to give myself time to, um, figure it out. I took it into the shower, thinking that would be a good place to deal with potential disasters . . . But that seems to have been unnecessary. I didn't have any trouble putting it where it needs to be. I think. I have plenty of back up to take to work with me, and I'm relying for now on immediate back up from the good folks at Always, so there's no chance of a huge disaster at work.

More on that as the day progresses.

And now I have to dry my hair, wake the boy, and prepare to beg for money. Because it's a Pledge Drive! (And no, Blackbird, that's not a euphemism for PMS. :-) It's a sort-of euphemism for a public radio fund drive.