So Wifey's been battling a cold, which is finally, it seems, on the way out. She started feeling poorly Tuesday evening, was better by Wednesday and so spent her usual hours sitting outside in the hot sun sweating, and then crashed again Thursday and Friday. I gave her a home Covid test, which was negative, but she wasn't at all shy or reticent about complaining how she was suffering. She had a doc's appointment Friday for routine blood draw, and watching her barely able to walk or get out of bed, I had visions of her crashed into a Metrorail column, and so I drove her.
On the way, I asked about the ATT remote she ordered months back. Wifey spilled water on one, got a replacement, and then spilled seltzer on the new one. I asked her to get another replacement, and so she navigated the long call with the saccharine friendly sub continent agent, who promised the new remote to be delivered by 2/14. It wasn't.
So on the way to the doc, I took control, and ended up asking for disconnection -- I learned that with service companies, the disconnect people are often the only ones authorized to actually get you what you want, less they lose a customer. And so I got one of them, and curtly explained that if there was no new remote FedExed by this weekend -- cut us off -- we would switch to Comcast, which we probably should have done years ago, as somehow our monthly UVerse bill is in the hundreds of dollars, and we get little for it.
After holding periods that lasted the length of the drive, the agent happily said "Ok -- you will get your remote in March!" Nope -- cut us off, I said, and then we arrived at the doc's office, and I hung up. An hour later, I fetched Wifey -- sure enough, the PA concluded she had a cold -- and drove us home. I had a fun evening planned with Jeff, Mike, and Mike's boy Chris.
Wifey got into bed, and learned that indeed the TV was cut off. "What now?" she asked. Ah -- we watch too much TV anyway -- just get apps like most people and screw ATT. Nah -- that would really require effort, and so Wifey navigated her way to have the service turned on again. I told her the message was simple -- don't get me involved. I have little patience, and I'm happy to just fire services if they annoy me.
Meanwhile, in far happier news, I fetched Jeff, and we drove to Mike's, and the threesome went to Fox's. Mike and I toasted with 3 cocktails (Jeff, a teetotaler, drove afterwards) and I reminded them we had all become friends FORTY YEARS ago, come September. Wow.
We then went to Mark Light Stadium, met Chris, and watched our Canes get shelled. They lost to Penn State, but the PSU coach is a double Cane, so I figured we were just giving a nice homecoming to him.
I started attending Canes baseball games in 1979, and being there brought back wonderful memories. Eric's parents Marvin and Norma LOVED the place -- reminded them of Ebbett Field in their native Brooklyn. I loved watching games with them.
On more than several occasions, I lured Barry away from pre med studies to go watch Neal Heaton, the fireballer we had in the early 80s, pitch. Somehow the game was followed by pizza and then ice cream at Baskin Robbins -- Spring meant the seasonal "Baseball Nut" flavor we loved. Barry was no worse for that distraction -- getting accepted into UF Med school despite missing some Organic Chem studying.
So today D1 is due over after a birthday party in our 'hood -- her dear friend Hannah, a pediatrician and new Mom, is here. I think Hannah misses being close to her family, especially now that there's a beloved granddaughter, and somehow the Bay Area where she attended college, med school, and residency has lost its luster as a place to live.
So, another weekend to savor. And hopefully going forward, stuff will be kept out of my overly heavy hands, lest we lose other services.
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