Oh, the Unmitigated Gall!

My resolution for 2020 was (is) to let the ickiness of 2019 be but a distant memory.  Fade away in my rearview, ickiness!  #byefelicia.  However, there are aspects of ’19 that will crop up, but that’s the nature of grief.  I have lovely new tenants moving in next month.  In fact, their moving has helped me to cope with my best friend’s imminent moving from ME to TN.  However, this post is NOT about that; I will likely elaborate in a future write-up.  So, my attitude for the past 30 days has been much improved; as I indicated in yesterday’s blurb, I’m hopeful.  My line of thought has been OKay, this is still hard right now, but think about what you have to look ahead to.

Having an empty rental for two years was a severe blow squared.  Just think, to lose that income for 24 months!  Also, to fix the damages the previous tenants left and to perform the updates that needed to be done . . . Well, both have left the crippling burden of (lots of) debt in addition to the normal debts: education loan payments, vehicle payments, food, etc.  Although most of my bills are late, and I have accumulated oodles of debt, I am able to see the dob of light at the end of the tunnel.  The rental is now (SO) gorgeous and entirely new bottom to top, top to bottom, with lovely new occupants on their way!

This morning, I opened up a credit card statement that I was not going to bother with.  I knew that my last purchase was heating oil for both “sides” of my house (my home and the rental portion).  Have you ever heard that voice in your mind, that thought that doesn’t quite belong to you?  Well, I’ve heard that subtle and disjointed whisper many times, and the one time I didn’t listen, I learned to always, always, ALWAYS listen.  I opened the CC statement, and it was very obviously . . . compromised.  The balance far exceeded what I knew to be the true balance.

Here’s the thing though . . .  Deep down (OKay, so not deep down – it was really only a surface thought), I know that I have never been out to California, and I have not been to New York since 2018, but I kind of sort of questioned my whereabouts for a brief moment.  The charges are all food purchases, mainly bakeries, out of CA and NY.  My first instinct was to raise my arms to the skies and ask, “WHHHYYYYY MEEEEEEE!!!!!!!????” but I did not, nor will I because the answer is, “Why not?”  There are X number of people each day, from all walks of life, that fall victim to someone else’s asshattery.  The likelihood that it was going to be me, at some point, was / is . . .  “pretty good.”  <~~~ As a crime analyst, that is indeed my professional opinion.  I also refuse to ask, “What next!?”  I’ve asked that question before, and there’s always an answer.  For example, in (what I thought would be) finishing the rental, there was flooding in the basement, which was never an issue before.  “What next!?” was asked, and a giant oak tree fell on the house.  That’s another story . . .

Note to self / future topics

  • Callie moving
  • The tale of the fallen oak and the mighty birch
  • Dogs

But I digress . . .

So, my credit card number was stolen and used to the tune of well over $1,000 dollars.  I assume all of these food purchases were online orders because I have the physical card in my possession.  Well, the shredder has the card in its belly – just a little snickety snackity to warm it up for the day’s feeding.  I called my CC company, and they were surprisingly helpful.  I have checked all of my other statements, accounts, etc., which I will continue to monitor closely, and all is well.  This situation could have been far worse, and I acknowledge that.  Currently, it’s at level annoyance.  My initial instinct was to panic, and I did to some degree – my hands were shaking while I was on the phone sorting this mess out.  Ultimately, I don’t have to pay for the fraudulent charges, the account has been closed, and someone (or someones) have full and happy bellies . . . probably full of cupcakes . . .

But seriously!?  How can you even enjoy eating your In N Out Burger meal, your bakery delights, all while opening your Etsy purchases?  Whoever you may be, you’re kind of a dick, but I know it could have been far worse so thank you for not being worse . . . you’re just the right amount of asshole – your mama must be so very proud.

 

 

‘Twas I That Arted

I have alluded to but not provided much detail about my recent stint with driving the struggle bus.  Seriously, it’s been nearly a year of . . . “meh.”  Since November of 2018, I have just been unable to “get it together.”  I have written zero response letters to the pile of mail I have received from pen pals, I neglected Postcrossing until about a month ago, I have been completing only one or two swaps per month via swap-bot, I’ve traded a mere handful of patches, and I have run only 450 miles since January 1st.  I have so many projects that remain unfinished: the contents of a parcel I intended to mail in April remains unpackaged, a half completed quilt intended to be a house warming present is now for a home that is no longer new, so on and so forth.  Even my blog has been a victim of my neglect in that I have not written about my runs, for though my training has been subpar in comparison to past years, I have still been showing up to my races.  I think the only aspect of my life that has not suffered from my “meh” is my reading; my Goodreads goal for the year is 67 books, and I am currently at 54 read.  I have also been less “on top of” certain tasks at work as well, but I attribute (some of) that to a bit of head butting with a superior.  There was a period of time where I dreaded coming to work; I even interviewed for a position elsewhere, but I realized shortly into that meeting that the (new) position was not an ideal fit.

Over the past few weeks, I have started to feel better, more myself, and by “myself,” I mean more like the me of a year ago, before I got behind the wheel of the struggle bus and put the pedal to the metal.  I have even found some inspiration to create for the sake of creating.  The ATCs and postcards below are not for particular swaps and have no ulterior purpose; I just felt like . . . arting.  Approximately two weeks ago, I completed my fitness objective of earning my Fitbit goal daily for 30 days.  With two more races left this year, I have been longing to fall in love with running again.  This is not to imply that I no longer love the sport, but I have not been as dedicated to or excited by running as I once was . . . until I’m crossing the finish line.  Crossing a finish line inspires me to keep going, to keep trying until the next race, but then I do not maintain that desire . . . until the next finish line is fast(ish) approaching.  (I’m not fast).

A step in the right direction toward finding the (better version of) myself has been spending time in my craft room and workspace with no guidelines and no deadlines hanging over my head or stifling my creativity.  Below, for those of you who do not follow my Instagram account, are photos of some of the artist trading cards (ATCs) and postcards I have been making.

After my final runs of the 2019 “season,” I will compile the photos and thoughts I have been collecting and share them in one post.  September 28th is the Dempsey Challenge 10K and October 6th is the Maine (half) Marathon.  Anyone who wants to follow my progress during the latter race, as I traverse the 13-mile course, there’s an app for that!  Let me know of your interest, and I will provide you with the app name and my bib number.

In summary should you have chosen to skim-read . . .

I have been sucking, and I no longer want to suck.

The Gypsy

 

Potions

 

Henry

 

Freud

Note: I am well aware that the paper doll I chose for my Freud PC (postcard) is not Sigmund, but the doll looked similar enough, that I took some artistic liberties / poetic license and used it anyways.

Best Costume

Profile Pics

Pictures of humans and animals just are not the same, and not only because a human is obviously different than an animal, mind you.  You see, I was toying with changing my blog’s profile photo, but I hate just about every picture of myself that exists.  The photo I had selected to settle upon, because it’s “decent,” cuts into / off one of my eyes.  Apparently, we are all now expected to fit in a bubble.  Well, POP.  <~~That was my bubble bursting.   So, I have set my profile photo to one of my Radin until I am finally in a picture that is not only a suitable portrayal of myself but also fits within the circle that is meant to be representative of who I am (but I’m a square, damnit!).

The wetter / runnier Radin’s nose, the more mussed his hair, and the more annoyed his facial expression . . . the more adorable he looks!  THAT is how animals’ pictures are different than a human’s.  The runnier my nose, the more mussed my hair, and the more annoyed my facial expression?  Well, that just makes me look like a trainwreck with a bad case of resting bitch face AKA RBF!  Though both assertions are certainly accurate, that is not what the bubble was developed to depict!