Been doing a lot of running in place, and necessary phone work. Have I mentioned that I hate talking on the telephone?
So, anyway, Steve got his Medicare card, which meant that I had to call the ACA and our health insurance company to remove him from our joint policy — I thought. What really happened is that the ACA cancelled our policy and opened a new one, just for me. The resulting health insurance payments are significantly less than our joint policy, a circumstance I regard with suspicion and not a little alarm, considering what happened last year, with the ACA adding another $12,000 on top of our Regular Taxes, because we failed to accurate predict how much money we would take in in 2014, and the timing of said income. I’m thinking I’ll just be putting aside the difference between the joint payment and what we pay now, so as not to Repeat History in 2015.
I also needed to get on the phone in order to close out an account that is being nickled and dimed to death by “administrative fees.” Nothing to it, said the rep; you just needed to fill out a form, which he emailed to me. All twenty pages of it. Including!
Including, I say, a page that Steve had to fill out in front of a notary, giving his permission for me to close the account with my name on it.
To be fair. . .the instructions did say “Spousal Permission,” so I’m guessing , had our positions been reversed, I’d’ve had to provide my notarized permission for him to receive his own money. Still — argh.
In and around those kinds of things, I’ve slowly been pulling “The Gift of Music,” and “The night don’t seem so lonely” into an ebook. This morning, I realized that we have no more ISBNs left, and I’m going to have to buy something at Baker and Taylor’s usurious rates, which prospect pleaseth me not, but will have to be done.
Yesterday afternoon, we had the electrician stop by to inspect The Receptacle That Supports The Internet. Late Thursday, my UPS, which sustains not only my computer, but our wireless hub, started screaming like a dozen little girls, and clicking frantically on and off. I climbed under my desk — because of course, the One True Outlet is in the most inconvenient place possible, in keeping with its importance — and heard the wall outlet sizzling.
Followed a short period during which All The Things were unplugged and the electrician called.
He, as above, arrived yesterday afternoon, diagnosed an old receptacle, no other damage apparent, and replaced the old with a new. We are now back up and running, and I get to put all the stuff that was under my desk — boxes packed, because we were going to be! moving! soon! — back where it was. . .
Later.
I think that’s it, on the news front. There will be no phone calling tomorrow, because — Sunday. Which is rather a relief.
Today’s blog title brought to you by Cage the Elephant, “No Rest for the Wicked.” Here’s your link.
I too hate phone calls. I didn’t used to but with age…
Bankers and credit unions make me soooo mad. It started when Mum died and her credit union was a PITA. TO be fair, her friends who worked there got it straightened out but they had to use the verbal equivalent of a hammer on their bosses and I had to issue Threats.
Pretty cat, pretty whiskers.
I know, right? It’s like it’s their money.
I had no idea you had to pay for ISBN’s. Am I missing a step? Is it part of copywriting your material?
Glad the electrical issues were easily fixable, and that HOPEFULLY your insurance will stay lower so you can use that money for something else.
Oh, my cat and dog get as low as they can on a hot day, preferably on the tiled entry ways, to stay cool. Of course our windows are also really low (they start about 6 inches off the ground) so they can easily see what is going on outside. Hope the temps stay reasonable for you.
Tomorrow’s going to be ugly — 90F. I have a book picked out and plan to sit in front of a fan with plenty of iced tea on hand.
We only have to pay for ISBN’s if we’re self-publishing, which, in the case of the eChapbook I’m trying to put together, we would be. For our traditionally published work — i.e. the books that Baen publishes — the publisher provides the ISBN number from their block, and copyrights the work in our names.
OK. I can’t be the only one who is tickled about the fact that Sharon quotes a “Cage the Elephant” song. I was listening to them as I mowed the lawn here in Chicago last night, and now I see Sharon Lee quoting them on her website. Awesome.