Eesh!

I move to a new place, and nearly two months later I realize I haven't been blogging for you...

Okay, funny things which have happened to me recently... mmm...

On an entirely different subject, 'tis the season to whip out cheesy home-crafted gifties.

So in the past weeks I have:

• cast on and knit 2 stuffed critters, a one-eyed monster (still needs curly hair applied) and one with three horns.


• Cast on and knit up a backpack purse.


• Started to knit a lace doily, about an eighth to a quarter completed.


• Cast on and knitting the back to a sweater, about a third done.

Things I have yet to complete:

• Bake scottish shortbread.


• Bake pound cakes for sousing.


• Research diabetic baked goods, and experiment.


• Determine if there's enough time for knitting up that other sweater.

The little stuffed toys are cool... they have a "hot pillow" to toss into the microwave, then put back into the knit critter so you have a pocket warmer. Mine aren't quite so cute as these, yet, but I may do a few more so I can experiment with colors and eyes.

The Purse came out okay, but I had to improvise the pack straps and that didn't come out quite so perfect. I still need buttons to put finish it.

The lace is going to take forever; I doubt it will be done in time to give as a gift. It may end up being for me. But it's a good learning opportunity. The sweater is going very quickly in lopi-style yarn. It's just the simplest design I could make up on the spot, but the yarn is gorgeous, kettle-dyed Bolivian wool. Slightly scratchy, so I may need to put a merino or cashmere collar, but it will be worth it I think.

So, between shuttling people around the city, normal housework, and the new consulting gig, I'm knitting and doing other stuff for the holidays. Oh, and getting the house ready for guests; some of the kids/grandkids will be here for a week or so before the holidays.

What a wonderful life.

People are idiots.

Including me, of course. I just got back to wifi, so here's an entry I wrote about 4 hours ago. It's not very funny. I need to work on that...

****

Ah, the joys of moving and the utter idiocy of people.

So, I'm sitting in the only reasonably great café near Deep Cove. It doesn't have wifi. It *does* have cinnamon buns of the extremely-gooey-top-and-bottom-are-crisp-with-crystalized-sugar-middle-perfectly-balanced-between-doughy-and-well-baked-I-could-*die*-for-these variety, and espresso so smooth and rich I can drink it straight or in a cup of steamed milk. Needless to say I very rarely stop here.

But, I'm ticked off and annoyed, and not sure if I can go home for a bit, so I'm wasting some time and writing a blog entry (in vim). So, maybe now is the perfect time to explain *why* we're moving.

Once upon a time, not too many weeks ago, we had a delightful normal life living on campus, a couple blocks from one of Elizabeth's offices and about 8 blocks from Misha's school. Now it should be noted the townhouse we're living in is a recent construction; we were the first people to live in our unit. And the owners were also new to the business of being landlords, and hired a management firm to manage the details of the job. The townhouse is part of a "strata", which is the legal entity which all the townhouse owners are a part of and which sets the minimum rules for everything from the color of the exterior furniture (only black or dark olive green deck table umbrellas) to the pets policy (small dogs less than 20lbs, 24" at shoulder, cats, fish, small birds...)

So, when we moved in we were just over one year here in Canada. We read the contract pretty carefully, asking questions about this and that, including the pet policy. The lease didn't allow pets, but the management team assured us (since we're cat people) that it would be no problem to allow a cat sometime in the future, when we felt like getting one.

Fast forward two years; we're about to sign the lease for year three. Misha falls in love with a kitty. I fall in love with the kitty. So does Elizabeth, thinking it's perfect timing. We'll just add the cat to the lease before we sign it. We get the kitty, the toys, the scratching post...

Then the management says, uh, actually, we talked to the owners and they've changed their minds. No pets.

Blink. Look at kitty. Look at nice 1500 ft^2 townhouse so conveniently placed. Look at the ton of books. Look at wife and kid...

So, we start looking for a new place, with, oh, about 1.5 weeks to come up with a solution or a new home for the cat. Of course we didn't tell the management co. we already *had* the cat... that would officially be in violation of our lease.

Vancouver is not a pretty place to find housing. There's more people trying to move here than there are landlords or places to put 'em. Many places never advertise; quite a few buildings have waiting lists. Some of them have waiting lists measured in years.

Anyway, we searched, we toured, we balanced details and services... but basically I looked at every single advertised place within our budget and a couple that were outside it a bit. And I found a new place, out in the 'burbs, which was brand new (actually, not even completed), had 3 bedrooms, and a gas stove. It has a few "extras" here and there too, and it's only just a bit outside the budget. I hate the idea of the commute again, but I couldn't accept the gorgeous view sub-penthouse in a neighborhood so scary Misha would have becomep a virtual prisoner in the place. I seriously would not have allowed him outside. If I didn't know better, I would accuse the Vancouver movie industry of creating that area as a set for gritty city movies.

Anyway, getting back to the idiocy of people, or at least property managers... The contract says they can show the place after giving us 24 hour notice. Fine, I have no problem with this. They gave us notice they wanted to look the place over. Swoop the cat, all cat gear, off to the boat. It's only on the other side of the city, I can spend a night or two living aboard.

Then they want to show the place. Fine. Spiff it up a bit more, spend more nights aboard. In fact, I pretty much moved aboard, commuting to the house to pick up Elizabeth in the mornings and drive her to work, back to the house to work on getting things ready for the move, taxi Misha and Elizabeth about, back to the boat... I spent a month doing that. Then there was a lull in the showings. Maybe they found someone to move in?

Doesn't matter, by this point it's mid September, moving day is the 26th. I have an insane amount of stuff to get scheduled before moving day. Plus we're using movers who charge a flat hourly rate - I'm doing as much pre-packing as I can to keep that number of hours as low as possible. Over the weekend I move back to the house and work like a madman to clear out some projects in the storage locker. On Monday morning bright and early we get an e-mail from the management; they have showings for Tuesday and Wednesday mornings, 9am, please don't be there.

Blink again. Look around the room at boxes of files and books, the cat marauding the tissue paper. We're *moving* on Wednesday. So we shoot back a message saying no way, we have boxes everywhere and we'll have movers in the place on Wednesday. Wait wait wait. Spend the day trying to convince the cable/internet/soon-to-be-phone people that there really is a house where we want to move. By evening we still have no response from the management folks. We leave voice mail.

Still no answer by morning.

So I pick up all the cat gear, brief clean the house, and scoot. I have no idea if they are at the house now or not, but this is *really* pissing me off. I can't pack or close up the project in the locker (a tiny stitch and glue dinghy.) I can't get rid of the junk we aren't planning to move with us. This is totally nuts. And this café *still* doesn't have wifi.

Packing

I hate moving. There are oh so many reasons why... For example, each of the thousands of books we own.

It's not just the books, themselves. Sure, they're heavy, especially when you mash about 150 of them into a box. But I live by information. I go to code up something - I need my programming and systems texts. I write an article - I need my references. I plan dinner - I need my cookbooks. I can't sleep - I reach for a fluffy novel.

Everything about me is enlivened, supported, expanded by books. Which explains why we have a half-dozen bookshelves overflowing and piles of unshelved books in the corners.

And packing them all into boxes for the move is like pulling the hard drive from the computer. Half my memory is missing, and I can't just reach out and access my data.

Recablingnessdom

Okay, we're moving. No, really, again. It's only the 4th time in 3 years, yeesh.

But that's not what this story is about. Why we're moving is another blog entry, too.

No, this article is about... utilities.

Specifically, this article is about trying to combine three utilities into one. I think.

First, there is the phone bill. It's annoying, but we gotta have one and that's all there is to it. Second, there is internet service, which is not annoying, but even more vital than the phone in my opinion. And finally is cable television, which I hate having and am particularly incensed that we are getting it, but our family is not a benign autocracy much though I might wish it were and I'm outvoted.

And I can get these services from a single provider, right? so I can reduce this all to one bill, right? Well, sort of.

You see, the telecom I'm dealing with can do all three services. But each service is managed by a separate department. And they do not talk to each other. Heck, they don't even admit the others exist.

Now, I'm already getting internet and cable tv from this company, so I go to add the phone service. After a long phone tree, and waiting on hold, I'm finally talking to a real live human... and they're giving me a nice long pitch, and talking me through all the options, and steering me toward the higher-priced package (which I'd already determined to get having gone through all the options previously online.)

Oh, you want this at your new address? Oh, you'll need to get the existing services moved there first. No, we can't do that, you need to call the other service care number.

Fine. Back to the website, what's the other service number? Oh, great. There's one collection of sales, service, billing, and support for cable tv. Another for internet. A third for business internet (which is what I have.) A fourth for digital phone. A fifth for "digital services." And a couple others I didn't bother to learn anything about. Clearly a company which has strong internal lines of communications (and accountability.) Not.

Eeny meeny miny moe... Call someone. Long phone tree. On hold. Real live person. Oh, sure, they can handle this... Where are you moving to. Uhm, wait a second, this is a new construction? because we show only a single house at this address, not a group of them, and the last service was in 2004. I'll need to bring this to my manager. Who will need to get a local approval that construction is completed, and then get into the property to verify the wiring was installed.

We'll get back to you within a couple of business days.

I move in three business days.

RSN != NOW

Just because I need to do something, say I'm going to do something, doesn't mean it happens. Or if it does, it doesn't necessarily happen in a time efficient fashion.

E.g. - I mailed the background checks today. I filled them out and printed them 05 June 2007. oops.

So, anyway, Marky... here's where I'll try to be amusing, humorous, and entertaining. I swear.