1. I was in the middle of laundry (washer AND dryer full, in mid-cycle)
2. Fridge full of food will most likely spoil (and probably some stuff in freezer too)
3. Hard to explain to Bean why she can’t watch TV on ANY TV
4. Missed season premier of Mad Men
5. HOT HOT HOT OMG NO SLEEP SO HOT
6. Dressing in the dark
7. Wet hair (thank God my hair is so short)

Wow, I really take electricity for granted. Our power company (who suck, by the way) are now estimating the power will be back on by 5pm today. About 27 hours without power, if they are correct. I have no faith in their estimate – yesterday, their recording (you aren’t allowed to talk to a real person when your power is out, apparently) kept saying power would be restored by 10pm, an hour which obviously came and went without power.

The most frustrating part of this may be the fact that while our entire side of the subdivision was powerless, right across the road the other side DID have power. I’m happy for those people (I guess?) but damn…

I’m doing research today on what to keep and what to throw out when your refrigerator has been off for 24 hours or more. Here’s a semi-helpful article from the USDA. Unfortunately, it seems to be geared towards people who have some hint they’re going to be without power. In our case, it was a complete surprise – the storm came out of nowhere. And even when we’ve lost power before, it’s never been for more than four to six hours. Live and learn, I guess.

We started using maid services years ago, long before we had a child. When we were childless and carefree, my husband and I spent a lot of hours working. When we weren’t working, we preferred to spend our free time traveling (mostly to Vegas), playing video games, and generally indulging our shallow, immature, hedonistic desires. SO SUE ME. Those were the salad days, and we could easily afford our maids. And the maid service we had was terrific. They did an amazing job, and “maid day” (every two weeks) quickly became something we looked forward to. First, it forced us to straighten up the night before, but second, I loved coming home and smelling how clean the house smelled, and seeing all the vacuum tracks in the carpet. And, let’s be honest, I did NOT miss cleaning bathrooms, or the inside of the microwave, or any of that stuff.

Eventually, we had to cancel our service. They kept raising the price (though they were, admittedly, worth every penny) and the hubz went through a few months of unemployment, so it seemed prudent to cut back on discretionary expenses like maid service. By this time, we had our daughter, and I really missed those maid visits. We managed to keep the house pretty clean, but it was a little bit of a drag.

Eventually, we decided to start using maids again. Since the last company we were using had gotten pretty expensive, we decided to use a different company. We had an estimate, an initial cleaning, and then they started coming every other week.

(A brief note on why I’m not identifying the actual companies we used. They were both large, national chains. While one was terrific, and one turned out to be awful, these companies are franchises, so each office is independently-owned. I realize that just because we have a terrible outlet of company B in our area, there are probably perfectly good outlets in others. And just because we had a good experience with the local office of company A, that doesn’t mean that they don’t suck elsewhere. So, no names will be used. Though, again, these were very large, national maid companies, whose names you can probably guess without too much trouble.)

At first, I was pretty happy with our new maid service, but a few months into the relationship, things changed. First they started getting kind of erratic, and more than once they didn’t show up on the scheduled day and we had to re-schedule. Then, I started noticing that some jobs weren’t really done all that well – the bathroom mirrors were always streaky, for example. And then there was the day they sprayed a bleach-based mildew remover all over our hall bathroom (where there is no mildew problem to speak of), causing not only an unholy stench of bleach, but covering two dark green throw rugs with large, orange, bleached-out polka dots. I called that day and I was really mad. REALLY mad. The company offered to reimburse me for the cost of new rugs (something which they never actually did, by the way, even though I faxed them a receipt), and also admitted that the same cleaners had generated complaints in other houses, including one where they had ruined not just a throw rug, but the actual carpet. So that didn’t make me feel very good at all.

It was all downhill from there. Last week, I finally talked to my hubz about canceling the service and just doing it ourselves for a while, and he agreed. We figured a.) it gives us a good workout every weekend, b.) we can definitely do a better job than the most recent company was doing, and c.) aside from a small investment in cleaning products, we’ll be saving a good deal of money.

Today was Cleaning Day 1. What an eye-opener! I knew the maids were doing a half-assed job, but I guess I never realized just how half-assed. I quickly learned. Keeping in mind that they were just here last Tuesday, the things we observed today included:

- Layers of gunk around various faucets that would take much longer than five days to accumulate.
- Areas behind doors (laundry room, bathroom, closets) where the floors had obviously never been thoroughly cleaned.
- Completely filthy baseboards (even though their notes indicated that they had cleaned the baseboards at least bi-monthly).
- Thick layers of dust on various surfaces, belying their claims that they dusted on every visit.

And it just goes on and on. Let’s not even talk about the toilets. Let’s not even talk about the dirt hubz found under various objects that had never been moved for cleaning. Was this our own fault? Certainly. I guess I should have been going over everything with a fine-toothed comb after every visit, and then calling to complain about each failing. It’s just, that was never necessary with the previous maid company. They just did an outstanding job, the kind of job I think someone I’m paying to clean my house should do.

Well, live and learn. For now, we’re cleaning junkies, and I have to admit – the workout I got today cleaning three bathrooms was terrific, and also left me with a feeling of accomplishment AND relaxation that can only be achieved through vigorous and thorough cleaning.

See, if I was relying on this blog for my livelihood, I might have to publish stories that tie in with SATC2′s marketing campaign, like “How to Get Carrie’s Hair” or “Charlotte’s Perfect Makeup” or “Samantha’s Still-Active Va-Jay-Jay.” (OK, maybe not the last one.) That would kill me, because the Sex and the City franchise sucks in general, and this latest movie very specifically.

I haven’t even seen it. I don’t have to. I can smell that shit from miles away. I find the whole concept of it shallow and offensive. But just in case you don’t believe me, there are lots of honest reviews you can check out. Like this one. Or this, this, and this. Or, most hilariously, THIS, which is the best of all. (That last one, by Lindy West at The Stranger, is getting a lot of press and link love, so it may take a really long time to load.)

I used to watch SATC on HBO. The first few seasons were fun. By the last two or so, it was getting old, or maybe I was just growing up, because I didn’t find it compelling anymore. I think by the time the series finally gasped its last, everyone was pretty much ready to be done with it. Then they came out with the first movie, which I didn’t see until it was on cable. I was not impressed. It wasn’t awful, but it certainly wasn’t the kind of thing I’d get dressed and leave the house for either. I think we can all agree that a sequel was COMPLETELY unnecessary. Seriously. Come on.

The big problem with movies like SATC2, and similar fluff like “Confessions of a Shopaholic,” is their tone-deafness. The country is in a recession, for Christ’s sake. Some people have been unemployed for two years now, and everyone is making sacrifices. Somehow, watching two hours of shallow, logo-flogging, conspicuous consumption just doesn’t make me feel any better, and it seems to not be helpful to most other hard-working folks either. There was a lot of talk about how in the Great Depression, Hollywood produced lots of lavish musicals and entertainment designed to help people “forget their problems” and “escape into a dream world.” But I don’t think it works anymore. We’ve moved on as a society, and most of us can’t relate, and don’t WANT to relate, to the shallow old hags of Sex and the City.

Don’t fall for it.

At a minimum, that $19.99 order of flowers will cost you $34 and change. They add a standard $9.99 delivery charge (much more if you want the Friday or Saturday before Mother’s Day), plus tax and a charge for “care and handling.” You know, I figure if I order flowers from you, I can figure that caring for them and handling them is included. I mean, don’t you pretty much HAVE to “handle” something in order to deliver it?

Look, I’m not opposed to sending flowers. Ask any of my friends or family. I have an incredibly generous flower budget for funerals, birthdays, and graduations. But when I do send flowers, I send FLOWERS, usually worth $100 or more. At that price, what’s another $9.99 for delivery, right? But I find it offensive that companies advertise “$19.99″ flowers that end up costing $35. And really, who knows what you’re going to get for 20 bucks anyway? I suspect you’re better off going to Costco and getting one of their very large, very reasonably priced bouquets.

That’s what I’ll be doing next weekend.

But the worst part was when it came off.

Yes, my arm was pale and skinny and flaky – I could deal with all that. But it HURT. Hurt like the day I broke it! Hurt like HELL! Because it’s still healing, duh. And that’s when I realized that maybe I won’t just “bounce back” from this injury like I thought I would. Three more weeks in this smaller cast. Then, some as-of-yet unknown amount of time in a removable splint/brace type of device. Then…?

The new cast is hot pink, lets me bend/straighten my elbow, and makes some tasks a bit easier. But it’s much, much tighter than the last cast; has rough edges that irritate my skin; and is so far rather painful. I’m dutifully putting moleskin on the edges that bother me, but I have to admit, the whole thing is really uncomfortable. Kinda makes me want to drink or something to distract myself.

Ouch.

Typing is a real chore, which is why I haven’t blogged lately. I’m in a lot of pain – it seems worse now than the days right after it happened, but I’m sure that’s because I’m healing. I remember the same deep, non-stop ache when my broken femur was stitching itself back together in 1990. Another week and a half in this giant monstrosity of a cast – then it will be replaced by a smaller model, only to the elbow, for another two weeks. CAN’T COME SOON ENOUGH.

I’m terrified that when they take this cast off, my elbow will be stuck and I won’t be able to straighten my arm! Kind of like what happened to my knee when the cast came off my leg. I have to keep reminding myself that only happened because my knee was also badly injured, and full of adhesions/scar tissue. If my elbow is stiff, thank goodness it will only be temporary.

Office is closed again tomorrow, but so is daycare. Oy vey.

*sigh*

It was stupid how it happened. I was walking down the three stairs between our bathroom/closet area and the bedroom. Still in my pj’s, getting ready to take a shower. Slipped, lost my balance, went airborne. I landed hard on my ass, and would have been sore but OK. But instead, my left arm was flung backwards and struck the edge of the stair at my wrist. I heard the crack and knew it was broken right away.

“Oh shit, some birthday this is gonna be,” I thought.

In agony, I called my insurance company to get approval for a trip to the ER. I was denied. Instead, my hubz had to drive me to our local doctor’s office, where they could only look at it and say, “Yep, that’s broken.” THEN we had to drive 40 miles to a different center where I could get x-rays and see the orthopedist on call. We spent the whole damn day driving and waiting: in traffic, in lobbies, in lines.

I ended up with a purple cast from my palm to above my elbow, and a much-needed scrip for vicoden. One of the bones in my forearm is shattered at the wrist, but if kept very stable, will heal without surgery – hence the giant cast. In three weeks I can hopefully get it removed and replaced with a smaller, forearm-only model. Unfortunately, I’m having to learn how to eat, dress, do my hair/makeup, etc. with one hand, and the wrong hand at that. Writing is out of the question, typing is agonizingly slow, and driving is possible but terrifying.

Let’s not even talk about showering with a garbage bag taped over my arm! Luckily, I found and ordered this, and some of this stuff too. Hilariously, based on those purchases, Amazon decided to show me some other items they think I’d be interested in, including this (slightly NSFW). Um, thanks but no thanks, Amazon.

Where are my drugs?