MFA Mama

the job is good and Typepad is GREAT

   The new job is good. It's really nice people working for a nonprofit dedicated to a GREAT cause, and they're busy enough currently to need an administrative temp. I don't think it has long-term potential, which is too bad, but it should last at least a couple of weeks, and that's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick (which is a saying down here in The South, although I've actually been the recipient of such a poke and can say that just about anything up to and including a compound fracture is preferable, so I guess it's not really saying much--THE JOB IS NICE, THE END).

   Typepad? Is GREAT. Those of you who follow me on the Twitter may already be aware, but yesterday I logged into WellsfuckingFargo's website to see if everything had cleared (yes, I still want to dump them--THEY SUCK and have HORRIBLE customer service, and they LIE right on their ATM machines where it says that cash deposits are credited instantly) and was horrified to see a $119 pending chunk out of my meagre balance. Of course I clicked to see what had unexpectedly eaten up 90% of my net worth, and it was my yearly Typepad subscription fee. Did I agree to that? Yes. Last year, however, they deducted it on May 20th, and so I had set a reminder for May 18th. This year apparently they deducted it a little earlier, which probably has something to do with leap years and business days and I DON'T KNOW, I'm sure it makes sense to SOMEone, but that someone is not writing this post.

   I logged into Typepad and clicked around the back end of my account, thinking that maybe if I downgraded to month-to-month billing (the yearly rate is a better deal, although obviously not so much if it causes the next thing to hit your account to generate an overdraft fee) that would fix things. Obviously I was not the first person to panic and have that idea, however, because next to the option to do that was a disclaimer stating that doing so would not cause a refund to be issued, but rather a credit on the account that they would then deduct your monthly fee from until it ran out. CRAP! So I fired off a desperate support ticket explaining that I knew I'd agreed to this being automatically deducted, but thought I had another eight days, was unemployed, etc. and asking if there was ANY way to get the yearly fee refunded and go month-to-month until I was more financially secure again. Since I'd been live-tweeting my freakout, I let my followers know that I'd placed it in Typepad's hands and was just going to hope their customer service folks were as understaning as Amazon.com's are (yeah, Hotter signed up for a free trial of Amazon Prime and forgot to cancel it, and a very nice Amazon.com employee unknowingly SAVED HIS LIFE on Friday by refunding THAT). Best case scenario, I thought I'd maybe get a refund of $119 minus the cost of one month's Typepad Pro service, but realistically I was expecting an admonition to re-read the Terms of Service. I went to bed last night worried as hell, but resigned to waking up to bad news. Instead, while I slept, Typepad was ON IT!

Figure One: Look how friendly!

    I checked my e-mail on my first fifteen-minute break at work, and found an INCREDIBLY nice note from Melanie, a Typepad Community Manager. She explained the date discrepancy in a way that made sense, and that yes, the TOS gave them permission to deduct the money when they did, but went on to say that she understood that life happens, and in light of my longstanding relationship with Typepad they wanted to try and help take the pressure off, so she refunded THE ENTIRE AMOUNT and APPLIED AN EQUAL CREDIT TO MY ACCOUNT. I thanked them profusely, and they were very gracious:

Figure Two: So. Very. Nice.

   You guys. I may have teared up a little in my cube. Of course what Typepad did helped me avoid (another) financial headache, and obviously I'm thrilled with the credit, especially since it's hard to justify paying that kind of money for something that is just for me and can't be eaten or worn to work, given our circumstances. But this was just...well. If you've never been really, really broke, you might not get how huge this was. You get used to hearing "no." To EVERYTHING. Things like sobbing on the phone to your bank, and never picking up a number you don't recognize become part of your daily existence. You come to expect smug annoyance from everyone you do business with, if not outright hostility. It's a relief to even be able to deal with a company via e-mail just so you don't have to hear it out loud, because you already hear it out of your own mouth on a daily basis. No, I can't pay for your eye surgery so you can see better. No, you can't go on that field trip, it costs too much. No, no, NO! The negativity can become overwhelming and start to color your entire outlook. When Typepad not only DIDN'T say no, but went the extra mile and did something nice that I hadn't even asked for, it meant a lot more to me than avoiding an overdraft fee or three and getting to blog for a year for free; it reminded me that there's more to say and hear than no, a lot more to life than relentless negativity. It lifted my entire mood, and helped me put my best foot forward today at the new job. 

   Am I going to stop bitching so much about my life? Probably not. It's not easy, and I'm only human. But I will never do it via any other blogging platform :)

Pollyanna

   Last night I was chatting with a friend of mine about how awesome Temp Agency #2 is. "If I keep working jobs for them at the rate I am, it'll be about equal to what I would've gotten from Unemployment," I gushed. "So you guys'll be okay then," she asked, hopefully. "Um. Well. I crunched the numbers when I got the initial letter from Unemployment, and with that plus the child support and Hotter's disability we'll be able to squeak by for a couple of months if need be, as long as nobody except the children eats and nobody except Hotter takes any prescription drugs. And he probably gets enough protein from the gel-coatings of various capsules and tablets to sustain life, so things are looking up," I said. "Um..." she typed. "SHUT UP, it's better than a week ago when we were going to get evicted and NOBODY was going to have any food or prescription drugs! This is a POSITIVE thing."

   Just call me Pollyanna.

Temp Agency #2

   When I first started temping, I was involved with more than one agency. More recently, it's been down to just one, which I have referred to since Winter 2011 as "Temp Agency #1." I heart them. They're positive, upbeat, and they don't care about my stupid blog. I still work for them. I did a job for them on Saturday. LOVE.

   But now...well. I'm kind of cheating on them. With a new job that, to keep it simple, we'll just start calling Temp Agency #2. An innernet friend and reader turned friend of the MFAmily referred me to Temp Agency #2 about a month ago, and I signed up but didn't actually take on any jobs, because at the time I was busier than a one-legged man in an ass-kicking contest with my full-time job. But...we all know how THAT ended up going. Temp Agency #2 is a 24-hour operation wherein employees work from home. It pretty much monetizes that thing I do when I'm panicking about money and aimlessly search the innernet at all hours. And so late Saturday night I started accepting jobs from Temp Agency #2, and I can't say enough good things about them, y'all. They're FUNNY. An employer with a sense of HUMOR? BRB, just gotta decide where on my body to tattoo the logo.

   All day Sunday I worked little jobs from Temp Agency #2 in between filling out job applications (I hate to quote Dr. Phil, but I am of the belief that if you do not have a job, your full-time job UNTIL you have a job is to FIND a job, and since I am accustomed to working weekends I have been plugging away steadily), and I am hooked.

   Temp Agency #2's user interface is so slick and easy to use! Temp Agency #2's training materials are hilarious! Temp Agency #2 + MFA Mama = TRU <3 4EVAR. If they offered benefits I would make them my full-time job and never look back.

   Sadly, Temp Agency #2 doesn't offer benefits. But they just might give me a way to keep my family afloat until I find another job that does, and that? IS A BEAUTIFUL THING.

in which I will eat my feelings as soon as UPS Ground permits, and invite you to join me

   Hey there my chickens. I got some disheartening news yesterday from Unemployment; my erstwhile employer seems to have a strong desire to go scorched-earth with this enire situation, which...well. While I can't say it was unexpected, it WAS unwelcome. And depressing. In a "if I can't find a job in the next couple of weeks things are going to get REALLY ugly around here" kind of way. I mean, there's a phone hearing scheduled where everybody gets to say their piece, and people are urging me to try to claim "whistleblower protection" (umyeah, I noticed several federal labor law violations and brought them up to management through the "open-door policy" right before they suddenly, after two merit-based increases in a row and a glowing review less than a month ago, decided I sucked at life in general and my job in particular) (and that's not EVEN the part I can't tell you due to pending investigations) and there's a CHANCE I could still prevail, but I'm really hoping to find another job before the hearing date. Mostly because I really need another job, but also because I just don't even want to deal with these effers. I'm so very disappointed in the company I worked for, y'all, you don't even know.

   BUT! A very generous and all-around awesome reader gifted me a Groupon to this AMAZING gluten-free bakery, an actual honest-to-Moses gluten-free JEWISH bakery, with gluten-free rugelach and hamantaschen and challah and OH MY G-D I THINK I JUST HEARD MY SCALE CRY OUT IN TERROR!* I placed my order just moments ago, and I can't WAIT for it to get here. Said awesome reader is also of Jewish extraction and gluten-free, and assures me that the baked goods are as good as they look in the pictures, which...well...oh my.

Figure One: I...need a moment alone with this image. Image borrowed from Katz Gluten-Free bakery's website.

   As soon as I placed the order, I got a happygram in my in-box welcoming me to the fold, with a share-able referral link for anyone who might be interested. If you buy through this link, you get 35% off your first order, and I get a $10 credit, so it's win/win. 

   That's my good news/bad news for the day. How about you?

 

* Kidding. I've lost seven pounds in the past six days on what I am tentatively calling the "OMG WE'RE ALL GONNA DIIIIIIIET!" Which it's probably ten kinds of sad that that gives me a little thrill, but at the moment I'll take what I can get.

good things from today

*   I found a coupon for a free oil change and tire rotation, both of which the MFA Beater was sorely overdue for, and took it to a local garage and had that done. Didn't cost me a cent! I thought I'd have them at least diagnose the Beater's current issues, but the place had a $99 diagnostic fee to even look at it. I, however, had a low-cut top on and managed to get out of the guy at the register that there's a fairly easy and straightforward way to test whether one's plug-wires are bad (that is what we suspect the issue may be) without paying $99 to find out. DON'T YOU JUDGE ME, THESE ARE DESPERATE TIMES!

*   Tomorrow I've got a temp gig through Temp Agency #1 for four and a half hours that seems fairly straightforward. It's only tomorrow and next Saturday, but it's better than a poke in the eye with a sharp stick.

*   I weighed myself and have lost five pounds. While I do not recommend the stress and poverty diet, you can't argue with results, and I am still thirteen pounds above my goal weight so am hardly wasting away.

*   The garden is really starting to take off! I'm anticipating a bumper crop of strawberries this year, and the spinach looks really good, and the squash seeds I saved from an organic butternut have sprouted.

*   I saved the best for last! Thanks to the kindness of a well-connected reader we'll refer to as The Pristiq Fairy, I don't have to worry about missing any doses of the magic pill that keeps me from becoming a total basketcase any time soon. That is a HUGE weight off my mind! I mean, I'm still pretty damn situationally depressed at the moment, but it could be SO MUCH WORSE and I am so very thankful that my husband and children don't have to watch me fall apart the way I do if I miss even one dose of Pristiq (which is the most I've ever missed since starting the stuff six years ago--I'd hate to think what I'd be like after, say, a week).

back

   Okay, so here is the deal now that I am done freaking out about it/going on hiatus.

   I no longer work for the erstwhile Job #1. It's absolutely fucking outrageous how that came to pass, so outrageous in fact that I think I'd better not run my mouth about it on the record, even pseudonymously. There is rather a lot of money at stake in certain...investigations...and I'm going to let that all shake out before I comment in any way. There are stories to tell though, oh yes there are.

   I have filed for Unemployment, but am hoping to have another job in place before I'd receive anything through that (there's a brief waiting period). I have one more paycheck coming, and a couple of bucks on the one after that (but nothing to write home about), and I've picked up work for this Saturday and next Saturday via Temp Agency #1. We're okay for the rent, the electricity, groceries for the next week, and the next bottle of Prograf. After that, I don't know. Hotter's eye surgery, sadly, is canceled, and I have NO idea how I'll afford my Pristiq (Synthroid and Symbicort are cheap and I can go without Mirapex and Nexium, although I'd prefer not to obviously).

   To add to my enjoyment of the above, the MFA Beater has been suffering grave mechanical issues, and was briefly unfuckingdriveable. I almost called out on my last day of work because of it, but managed to flog it downtown. Immediately after the shit hit the fan, I picked up a couple of applications within walking distance of the Hotel California (as we will start calling my now-previous employer), since I was already downtown, then barely got the fucking thing home. In a way this was good, as the workout I got (equivalent to a Stairmaster on low--think LOTS of revving the gas and stomping the clutch) kept me from getting emotional in any way until I was home. Today Hotter took a ratchet set and his feelings outside and rendered the Beater functional again by the skin of its teeth, so that's good.

   What else? Bumpus ran away. He slipped past Big Child, ran outside as if to greet the XY, who was here picking the kids up for dinner visitation, and just kept going. He was MIA for two hours. MICROCHIP YOUR PETS, Y'ALL. Now he's back, mysteriously damp and in need of a bath, and I have fond memories of being screamed at by my ex-husband on my front lawn to mull over when I wake up from tonight's round of nightmares in a cold sweat (yeah, HIIIII ANXIETY DREAMS).

   I'm trying to look on the bright side here. While the circumstances suck, I'm reconnecting with my kids in ways I haven't been able to in months and months due to work obligations. We're eating meals together as a family again, and thanks to the garden and beasts of Squatter Workshop, so far everyone/thing in the household has had enough to eat. If I were capable of timetravel I'd go back and kiss myself, with TONGUE, for getting rabbits. One fluffy-fryer only yields as much human-grade meat as a large commercial chicken breast, but its' giblets and trimmed skeleton yield three days' worth of meat for Isis, who would otherwise be subsisting on supermarket eggs about now (our four geriatric hens only produce enough backyard eggs for human consumption--we keep "dog eggs" in the fridge and crack one into each bowl of kibble we serve Bumpus to encourage him to eat more and help keep weight on him) given that she's a speshul preshus snowflake who's allergic to grains (including rice--WTF, ISIS?). So that's good. And finally, while I will miss those amazing benefits forever, working for the Hotel California was starting to take a toll on my mental health, and had been for a while. I won't go so far as to say I'm glad their underhandedness and illegal machinations forced a parting of the ways, but I'll admit to a certain amount of relief that it's OVER.

   Also, while life is sucking a fat one currently, I have some truly amazing friends, who have plied me with funny animal pictures and ratchet extensions, YA lit for my Kindle via Amazon and grocery money via PayPal (ain't technology grand?), sound advice and commiseration. Thanks for being awesome, everyone. Y'all know who you are.

   This too shall pass, like a kidney stone, slow and painful. ONWARD!

   And how are all of YOU?

 

what would you do?

   I have some dilemmas, and thought I would crowd-source them because sometimes y'all are wiser than I am about things:

I. Hotter's eye surgery. Do I cancel it because we are broke as a joke, or forge ahead because 1) VISION and 2) if things keep going as poorly as they are at work I may not have this excellent insurance coverage for long. My knee-jerk reaction was FUCK NO WE ARE NOT CANCELING IT but am I being stupid about it/making this harder than it needs to be?

II. Big Child's birthday. It's in six days, and we're still going to be overdrawn, and I don't know what to do. I can PROBABLY bake a cake with what we have on-hand, so there's that, but as far as gifts go...not so much. Do I 1) talk to him about it, explain things, and let him choose a gift that I will buy after we're back in the black or 2) _________ (I don't know--ideas?). He will be twelve.

III. Work. Things at my job...could be going better. Today there is a mandatory meeting wherein Management will address something monumentally shitty they've done to every single person in my department (in essence they have given everyone a huge paycut in a way that may or may not even be legal). A lot of my co-workers plan to quit on the spot if the meeting goes poorly. I am not that rash, but do I 1) hang tight at all costs, because BENEFITS and hey, this is my chance to really ingratiate myself with The Powers That Be or 2) take the time and energy away from the rest of my life to actively begin searching for something new and hopefully less shady?

prose-poetry of a Sunday afternoon

Sometimes life pulls you out of yourself with its ordinary beauty,
the stumbled-upon poetry about the agony of knowing on social media,
walking out to the backyard beehive with an emotional sweet tooth and a spoon,
and just for a moment you forget everything but the perfection of metaphors.

mishpocheh

8:30 a.m. Eastern Time

Anonymous Friend: I HATE EVERYTHING!
How are YOU?
:P

MFA Mama: I hate quite a bit. Let's bitch.

AF: My SO has been traveling for a week and I have five animals to care for.

MFA Mama: *wince*

AF: I am not an animal person.

MFA Mama: Bahaha.

AF: They're all kind of wacky and demanding animals, too.

MFA Mama: I dislike animals currently as well.

AF: That is really what I hate the most followed closely by my insomnia.

MFA Mama: Word.

AF: You have a lot more animals to hate, I would imagine.

MFA Mama: Seventeen rabbits, four chickens, two dogs, a cockatiel, a bearded dragon, and two betta-fish, currently.
And ALL of them assholes!

AF: I'm not even sure I know what a bearded dragon IS!

MFA Mama: It's a great stonking lizard. The object of my youngest's affections and the acquisition of his gross little dreams.
Also: an asshole.
It rips its lizard-hammock (Godiva help me that I even know what that IS, much less own one) down daily, tears the bark off its shade-log, requires daily chopped salads from a proscribed list of veggies and twice-weekly live crickets...

AF: Wow.
For the record, having parrots is much the same.

MFA Mama: It takes big bird-like shits and can JUMP.

AF: They scream, they yell, they require frequent water changes because they have delicate immune systems, blah blah blah...

MFA Mama: Oh, and if it's constipated you have to run it a warm bath and let it crap in your tub, then bleach the tub, burn the house down, and move because they carry salmonella.

AF: WHAT OH MY GOD WHY DO PEOPLE KEEP THOSE AS A PET?

MFA Mama: They're charming creatures. Want one?

AF: I do not need any more pets in our tiny abode!

MFA Mama: Clementine's alright, I guess, just needy like every other damn thing alive in these parts.

AF: I share a really small space with these birds.

MFA Mama: The lactating rabbits are thirsty, the chickens smell and also need water, the hound whines early for having to pee, an hour before the middle-school bus because DST, at the correct time too because YAY WHINE, at mealtimes...
the pitbull is a bedhog
The cockatiel's treats are recalled and need to be returned to the store; they're mocking me in their bag. Actually, I think they were contaminated (or possibly contaminated) with salmonella, haaaa!
The 10,000 or so (currently) bees will soon require an expensive thingamajig in which to make honey...

AF: Wow.
I'm going to try to go back to sleep...I have A Thing in three hours, and the birds will need water changes, and UGH.

MFA Mama: Good luck with that. The hound woke me at six, we have a lunch-date, and then later I'm getting stabbed in the arm with a needle for an hour by a big scary dude for fun. I think maybe I am doing Days Off wrong?

AF: Yes, I am doing weekends similarly. 

bite

   Remember the beast I mentioned hating down at Squatter Workshop?

   I've been thinking about the whole "to slaughter or not to slaughter" question. On one hand, I don't want to slaughter a creature JUST because I don't like it. On the other hand, I don't want my awareness of the ethics of the situation to give an unpleasant and unproductive creature a free pass, because that makes bad farm-sense.

   Last night Hotter and I went to Squatter Workshop together to do the evening chores. We counted the rabbit kits (you have to do this daily for the first couple of weeks, because if one dies you need to get it OUT of the nest), of which there are still nine (although there is now a clear runt that is less than half the size of the others, and I expect that it'll die off in the next couple of days--I've gone so far as to milk Pfeffer by hand and syringe-feed these runts in the past and they always die anyway, so I think they're runts because something is wrong with them inside and have taken a zero-intervention stance on runts even if they do tug at my heart), and fed and watered everyone.

   The beast I told y'all about pressed her face to the bars repeatedly as if looking for affection. Haas and Pfeffer will do that, and they enjoy a good petting. Remembering Jay's comment, I wondered if maybe said critter was just mean because it had developed bad associations around being touched (we aren't cruel to beasts out there, but said animal has a history of fertility issues and has therefore had the extended belly-grope that serves as a crude pregnancy test more than average due to numerous failed breedings; I don't remember such gropings during my own pregnancies as unpleasant but then I knew what was going on).

   "Are you just misunderstood?" I asked the beast, and went to rub her face with my finger.

   Reader, she bit the living SHIT out of me.

   This is the first time a rabbit has caused me injury with its teeth (the other wounds this one has inflicted were from claws), and given that the MFA Children like to feed the rabbits treats of pulled grass and dandelion greens...well. If it made ME bleed I don't like to contemplate what it would have done to one of Little Child's wee dimple-knuckled fingers.

   The decision just got a whole lot easier, although I plan to wait until it's been thirty-two days since the critter's last breeding JUST IN CASE.