And now you know...

 the Rest of the Story. 

Sorry, I had to do it. I was a kid when Paul Harvey was on the air, but he was as ubiquitous as the Kool-Aid man for a long time. 

ANYWAY...I just had to share the funny outcome of the work thing. 

My very first email of the morning was from the guy who got dragged into the Drama, telling me that this person apparently really needs what she's asking for. (Well, she's not fucking getting it, I have other deadlines. She has not explained to me why she needs it in the first place.) 

I did not respond, I did some deep breathing, and saw that my boss was back from her vacation and online. 

I messaged her: Hi, welcome back, do you have a minute for a quick call? She called me immediately. 

I started the conversation with "I'm not calling to tell you I'm quitting." (Although at going on 67, it's retiring, right?) 

She yelled, "OH THANK GOD! I was sure that was it!" And we laughed.

I then filled her in on what transpired on Friday. She agreed with me that this was not normal or okay, and added a third person to the call, who confirmed that I had not hallucinated and had provided exactly what was asked for, and even added details I'd forgotten. So it's all good.  

Skipping to the end: a Call Was Scheduled between me, the guy referenced above, the guy who got dragged in, and the source of the drama. 

God it's hard to do this without getting too descriptive, but, say somebody thought there was a thing in a museum. Your (my) job was normally to catalog things, but in this special situation, you were told not to bother doing the completely detailed catalog. So you gave the people asking what they asked for, and called it done. She was asking me to go back and catalog the entire museum. It's a big museum. The project in question was to start way too soon to make that even possible, hence the abbreviated schedule.

So I asked her if she was aware that the item(s) she needed to know about were definitely in the museum?

She paused and said she'd had a conversation with her boss, waffle waffle, corporate speak, but finally admitted that she had not even looked at the museum yet. She wanted me to do a catalog for her before she began. The guy she dragged in said a different catalog of sorts had been shared with the team, had she looked at it? She had not.

I'm very glad we were not on camera, because at this point I was mouthing many variations of the word fuck.

After a bit more back and forth, I told her that after she reviewed the museum and identified the items she cared about (AKA doing her fucking job), I'd be happy to help her obtain the information she needed about THOSE items, if they exist. I was NOT going to catalog the entire museum, but I'd be happy to help with her specific questions about specific things she cared about.

And we all thanked each other for finding a solution!  Umpty emails and meetings between parties was finally resolved when the self-important drama queen finally fucking told us what she actually needed. 

If she'd said this up front, without dragging God and Everybody into it and making it much more complicated and mysterious than it actually is, we could have worked this out in an exchange of two emails: "Hey, how can you help me with..." "Here's what we can do..." But no, she just repeatedly insisted I do something for her that the project didn't require.  There, I think I told the story vaguely but accurately.   

 God, I really must retire this year, I'm just over this. 

And there's ANOTHER box of photo albums.

 These are in an ancient U-Haul box, and I honestly have no idea what they are. ARRRRGH!!!

So far, my diligent quest to find and preserve important family memories has resulted in...a few random pictures. We earnestly saved about 100 lbs. of mostly shit for DECADES. Out of focus pictures of unidentifiable places and people. I mean, we are talking THOUSANDS of images, and so far there's less than 100 actually worth keeping. SOO many duplicates, so many WTFs. So many duplicate WTFs. Zero OMG amazing treasures. There are some cool pictures of my parents, the great-grandparents, looking all glam in their 50s finery, and a couple of pics I must scan of me and my cousin in our  teens, as proof that yes, we really were once quite hot. But wading through the drek is just tiring.

One of my absolute favorite things about this modern age is the ability to take and share photos with the gadget in your pocket. No need to drop off the film, pay to develop, wait and see what you have, and discover there are two decent photos in a roll. BUT you paid good money for those photos, and dropping them in the trash feels like throwing money in the toilet. So you put them in an album and 40 years later go WTF and peel out six that are actually worth scanning to bring them into the 21st century.

Yeah, it kinda was just throwing money in the toilet, but we did it because that was the only way to "preserve those precious memories." BTW, WTF ever happened to Kodak? They're still around, they evolved and good on them, but damn, their ubiquitous commercials had us all desperately snapping and paying to develop "memories" that in retrospect weren't precious, and all their point and shoot cameras were shit. 

Taking rolls and rolls of family photos was just expected, and we all did it. We bought cameras and film and then paid to have that film developed, so we paid at both ends, all without knowing if we'd captured the moment we wanted. 

At least "wasting money" on avocado toast is actually buying food. 

My Friday began bright and early with a new work WTF, that seriously had me ready to announce my retirement before 10 a.m. 

How to tell this story without identifying details?  

Okay, so I was asked to provide information for a project. It was a very short deadline project, and they didn't need all the information I'd normally put together, so I gave them what they asked for and considered it done. 

Approximately 6 weeks later, someone I don't work with or answer to in any way asked me for the more detailed information that would be standard in a normal duration project. I explained that we didn't do that for this one because tight timeline and the people needing the info told me they didn't need it, so no, I didn't have the information requested. So okay, asked and answered, I moved on to my current projects.

 So TODAY, that person emailed me and God and Everybody associated with the project and asked WHEN I'D PROVIDE THE INFORMATION AS DISCUSSED.  

And seriously, I had to get up from my desk and walk around and load the dishwasher and stare out the window and breathe deeply, because my first reaction was to explode. I had carefully explained to that person that the information wasn't part of the scope for this project. Happily, our prior emails were attached, and it was clear that I'd never agreed to go back and redo my part of this project. I do not answer to this person. This person can use the information I provide to the entire team, I don't care, but she's not part of the two teams that need my work product and I gave them what they wanted. 

Oh, and my boss was on vacation this week and I like her way too much to bitch to her while she's off, but it'll be on the list for our next one on one. 

Apparently the complainant raised the issue with another party, someone I have worked with for years, and he very nicely asked me about it. I explained what had happened and he said thanks and was fine with it. I'm not "in trouble" - not that I have the teeniest mouse turd to give at this point.  

I'm just too old for this shit. 

Hey, It hasn't QUITE been a month!

 May has been a LOT on all fronts. Work has been crazy busy with ridiculous demands: 

PM: "Hey, we forgot to involve you at the start of this project, our bad! We're really sorry. Now, how fast can you get your part done?" 

Me: "Normally a project of this size would take 10 weeks," (explains the calculations).  

PM: "Can you do it by May 16th?" 

Me: "That's a little less than 4 weeks." 

PM: (wheedling like a kid who wants ice cream before dinner): "I know, but..."(insert schedule woes here).

And that's just one project. And they wonder why I threaten to go park cars at Disney.

My retirement date remains "Somewhere in the future...." 

Meanwhile: That House will be under contract this week and will close mid-June. My time as The Accidental Landlady is coming to an end, a decade past when I'd thought it would. (I was so young and foolish in my 50s.) I am not getting enough equity out of it to retire this summer, so yeah, looks like I'll be doing what I'm doing for a while longer. I'll evaluate after the next quarter. 

Meanwhile, I've got job searches set up for Disney and Disney-adjacent opportunities, because you never know. If a role I really want at Disney appears, you bet your ass I'll apply.

My employer offers financial advice through a 3rd party company, and they had a "Planning for Retirement" online seminar the other day, so of course I signed up. Apparently I'm already doing everything they advise, so that's both reassuring and totally not. 

Not, because the main thing that struck me was how their advice started: "You need to think about what you're going to do next, after you leave your current career." They weren't talking about traveling, hobbies, etc. They were talking about getting a "retirement job."  

Basically, these financial planners told their audience that yeah, if you want your retirement funds to last to the end of your days, you really need to think about at least part time work for a few years after you leave your career. Do consulting, get a part time job doing something different (my plan) but stay in the job market as long as you can.

I know this is true and good and sound advice, but damn, it's sobering to have financial planners saying, in the nicest way, that they strongly recommend that you don't totally retire when you retire, so you can survive whatever happens in the economy and won't outlive your money. 

This is of course far easier said than done. 

The cleaning out of The House was eye-opening, for sure. It made me want to get rid of all my worldly goods now. It has been depressing to see how much shit was still stored there, in closets and in the garage, that had been stored for decades and which, when hauled out into the light of day made absolutely no sense to hold onto, and I'm finally more than ready to trash. 

It has made me a rabid proponent of Swedish death cleaning. Not that I'm planning to die anytime soon, but because I'd really love to live in an organized and decluttered house NOW. I've been on a binge this weekend, and it feels really good. 

I've said it before, but my inability to get rid of shit is hereditary. I'm really aware of that now. When I see something I don't need my first thought is always, "Somebody could use this!" and I stare at it for a while and then put it back where it was. 

I did it this weekend: I was purging cabinets of duplicate and unused kitchen stuff and discovered that I have THREE identical Pyrex glass pie plates.

No, I do not know why I have 3.  So I texted the above picture to my daughter asking if she could use one, and her answer came back almost immediately: "I have 2." 😂

A much needed reminder that nobody really truly needs your shit; they have their own.

Except when they do need your shit. I've had a small table and chairs against the wall in my kitchen, I am not kidding when I say I think it was used twice in the last decade. It just took up space, and I kept telling myself it had to go. So yesterday I posted it on the neighborhood FB page, free to a good home, and I swear to God within 5 minutes a couple who live around the corner DMed me and claimed it. It was exactly what she'd been looking for, and I was so happy to give it to somebody who will actually use it. The only creature who ever utilized it was Ellie, it was her perch to look out the front windows.

I'd been meaning to get rid of it for literally years, but never got around to it.  It was gone to its new home within 20 minutes of my offering it.

 

Likewise, Ellie's "dining table" had been in my office for the last decade. She eats on a super basic IKEA end table to keep the dogs out of her food. It had been in my office because there was no room in the kitchen. I also had a cat bed/tree in a box since Christmas, because I'd been intending to make this change forever. Yesterday the table and chairs left, the cat perch was assembled, and the cat dining table replaced the unused human table. The transformation took about 45 minutes from posting on Facebook to the cat checking out her new spot. 

I'd put it off forever because, because I don't know why. 

Anyway, multiply that by everything I own, because I'm on a roll.

 

 

 

 

STAND BACK; Applying Blog Defibrillator Paddles.

It worked! It's alive!!

So, okay, what's been going on in the last couple of months?

I did not retire yet. I now have no idea when I'll retire. Everything is too damn unstable right now, my 401K is on a roller coaster, etc. I'm hoping to have a better grasp of the situation in 3-6 months. And that's as close as I'll get to talking about the flaming dumpster fire that is the country right now. My blood pressure and sleep are my priority.

I'm still being totally upfront with my boss, I've told her that I'm on a quarter by quarter plan and I'll give her plenty of notice when I know what the hell I'm doing. Changes at work that aren't entirely bad for me so far have made me suddenly busier than the proverbial one-armed paperhanger, but that's better than bored and depressed. Now I'm busy as fuck and depressed. Not severely depressed, just resigned to, okay, yeah, whatever the fuck happens I'll roll with it. It's the not knowing what will happen from one week to the next that is exhausting and depressing.

That part-time retirement job at Disney? That's also on a wait and see basis. Word is that international tourism has fallen off a cliff because ain't nobody wanting to deal with the American Shitshow, so while it's still my plan/dream/goal, tourism is taking an entirely predictable hit. Still too early to tell how domestic tourism to FL will be affected. 

It's anecdotal, I know, but I am subscribed to the Disney job boards, prepared to jump on any suitable part time opportunity. I would get emails a couple of times a week about new openings, in everything from wastewater treatment plant operations to costuming. I realized this week that I've only had one email lately, for servers. 

So I'll keep doing what I'm doing, and continue to be grateful to have a good job with a good company that just quietly shrugged and continues to take good care of its people and hasn't abandoned DEI. It could be far worse and I know it, and I really am grateful to be riding through this craziness in relative sanity, at least so far. I'll be 67 in June and I'd really, really like to retire and do something more fun, but hey, I'm not on my feet waiting tables in a diner all day, so I really cannot bitch about my situation. Everything is awful, but at least so far I can muddle through it day by day.

So, otherwise, how's the coping with the shit show going? Is everything bleak? No, actually, it's not.

One of the big pieces of my "retirement plan" is finally happening: my daughter and her significant other have found a house and are vacating the "investment property" that has been a yoke around my neck for the last decade plus.  They're moving May 1.  This was both a long time coming and then happened very fast; they were looking for a while, looking for a single family home with enough space and pet friendly, etc. Nothing that exciting turned up, and we'd kind of mentally marked June as the likely moving month, but then they found a house they liked with a May 1 occupancy date. I cannot complain, because I'm the one who found the house. Oops.

I didn't pick it out for them, like "Mommy says you should move here". I just saw it online and loved it and sent the link to my daughter, with a comment like, "Damn I love this! Did you see it yet?" She just sort of shrugged it off at first, and they kept looking. There were a couple of nice prospects, but they kept it in mind. 

Then they looked at it and went back and looked again, and the leasing company was cool with their pets, and the Kid and the Prince get to stay in their current schools, so now it's a done deal. And I can sell the "investment" property before hurricane season hits again and nobody's writing homeowners' policies when a storm is out there and it's all nuts.

Plus, the new place is MUCH nicer, with an airy open floor plan centered around a fireplace, a beautiful kitchen with glass front cabinets, a gas range, and a greenhouse window, a huge screened porch, and a  loft space in the master bedroom, which could be used as a home office if the spiral staircase isn't too annoying. 

There's also a much bigger bedroom for the Kid, with a nice built-in closet system in the generous closet. She saw the size of her new room and was immediately on board; her current room is about 10x10 with a tiny closet, because 40 years ago builders apparently didn't understand that children GROW. She's totally on board and stoked about moving, and that's a big plus when dealing with an outspoken 13 year old. The Prince also gets a decent sized room that's still bigger than his sister's current cell.

The new place has a kind of 70s boho vibe, but very nicely updated. I'm totally envious. I My daughter's excited and can't wait to decorate it.

Her excitement is catching, and it has inspired me to want to make improvements to my own living space. AFTER the house sells and I see where I am financially, I need to make some needed updates. "Deferred Maintenance" should be the title of the memoir I'll never get around to writing.

But that's for later. Starting now I have two mortgages to cover until the house is sold. I do have money set aside for the situation so I can swing it if it doesn't last too long, so let's hope it sells in 60-90 days, because beyond 90 and it's gonna get complicated. 

But it's time to do it, before the Trump Shitshow tanks the housing market too (it'll happen) and the next hurricane comes through. I want out. I want to bank whatever equity I can salvage and add it to the retirement bucket and be done with my life as The Accidental Landlady. It was a "temporary" plan that ended up dragging on over 13 years.  I'm glad to see it finally end.

So next week will be the starter's pistol for a whole lot of changes, including, finally, THE SELLING OF THE HOUSE!!!  As soon as they're out the door I'll be in there figuring out if there's anything left behind that I actually want, then hiring a junk hauler to clean out whatever shit's left, talking to realtors, getting it listed, etc. etc. Fingers crossed it all gets done in 60 days. 

But Catherine, we're here for the DOGS! How are the DOGS? 

Both are still utterly delightful. Eddie remains a sweet, cuddly, noisy, hilarious little clown. Gidget is fine, but yeah, I can see she's slowing down. We don't really know how old she is. 5 years ago the "rescue guesstimate" was that she was 4, but hell, she could have been 6 or older? Who knows? 

The vets suspect she's older than guessed, while Eddie is clearly younger than animal control thought when they picked his neglected little runaway ass off the streets in Osceola County. After he was cleaned up and my vet took a look she guessed he was no more than 2, and I dialed that back by several months when he continued growing after coming to live with me. He's now taller, longer, wider, and just overall a bigger dog; he didn't just fill out from his starving urchin situation, his bones kept growing. So I've declared that he'll be 3 years old on his Gotcha Day in June - 1 year-ish before Gotcha and 2 since. It feels accurate.

Gidget is fine, she's cute and happy and not ill, but she sleeps deeply, snores like a little bear, needs the occasional urgency trip at 2 a.m., has cataracts, and doesn't seem to hear all that well at times, though that might be selective deafness. She's still ridiculously cute and smart and sweet and perfect in every way. Except for those midnight emergencies, but those are few and far between. Hey, we all drink too much liquids before bedtime sometimes.

The humans are all splendid too. The Kid is finishing 7th grade in her usual style, kicking ass and excelling at everything she does. The Prince is absolutely delightful in every way, bright and funny and just the nicest, most easygoing kid ever. 

So, while I am active on Bluesky and still on Facebook and read and rant about politics in small doses, this blog will remain occasionally updated about coping with the shitshow. I'm reading a ton, crocheting a ton, sleeping fairly well most nights, and just waiting to see what the hell will happen next. I swear I'll keep the Few and the Loyal readers updated on the house sale and other adventures, but I am pre-exhausted thinking about the next month. Or so.

 

 

Updates on this and that.

 The new HVAC installation was a long but lovely experience. Three very nice young men arrived, I corralled the animals in my bedroom, and they got to it. I did take the dogs out, on leashes, through their work when needed, and there was a love fest with Eddie. 

One of the baby faced but highly skilled young techs reminded me of somebody, and after a bit it clicked: Charlie from The West Wing, but even better looking. He had beautiful eyes and that polished, calm, professional attitude Charlie exuded, and he wasn't even the leader of the team. The lead was an equally handsome guy with a very slight Eastern European? maybe? accent. I didn't interact much with the third guy, I gathered that he was a trainee. He was the blond surfer dude, but he also knew his shit. 

None of them were 30 years old. Okay, maybe they were as old as 33, but to me they were babies. I don't believe they were chosen for their looks, they knew what they were doing and were quiet, respectful, friendly, and did impeccable work, but I do think the company is losing a marketing opportunity by not putting them in ads. Though on second thought that might backfire, because they were so young and cute, people might assume they were just pretty faces.

It was an entirely positive experience in every way. I've praised them under my real name, but if you happen to wander in here and want a great AC company in Central Florida, just ask. 

Then, this week on Monday...this happened. At around 9:30 am my phone began screaming a tornado warning. I'm jaded about tornado watches, we do that all the time, but an actual tornado in the neighborhood is rare and scary. It was a bit hard to find the details about where it was and where it was moving, and the weather outside was not helpful. It looked tornado-y. It was scary. The lights flickered and I was contemplating grabbing the dogs and heading for the hall bathroom, for what it's worth as shelter, when I finally found a report that it was moving northeast of me. 

I know the neighborhood where it touched down, it's a couple of miles as the tornado flies, and dear God, the people in the house that was destroyed were so lucky! Reports afterward said that if they hadn't sheltered in that one room that stayed intact they'd probably have died. 

I was working from home but was to join a meeting at 10 am. It was delayed because everybody in the building was sheltering in the stairwells. An 18 wheeler on the nearby highway was tipped over, but the driver and his dog both were uninjured.  

It continued onward to threaten my boss's house before finally dissipating and heading over the ocean. 

I've been in Florida my entire adult life, and I've been guilty about joking about how tornadoes are attracted to trailer parks, yuk yuk. Trailers are certainly much more vulnerable, but the jokes are stupid.

That house that was destroyed was no trailer, it was a big house in an old established neighborhood. I don't know who lived there, but they were smart and had a plan for the most secure location in that house, and it absolutely saved their lives. 

And this, boys and girls, is why you have to take your storm shelter plans seriously. 

Other stuff, mostly good, has been going on. I shall not comment on the national shitshow because blood pressure, but overall, just keep on keeping on.