oh, for...

babies with certain names are not allowed to board their flights because their name is similar to one on the government's no-fly list. parents are required to provide proof that their baby is not a terrorist.

this is one of those times where all i can do is grab my head and sputter incoherently.

strange, strange dreams

( i dreamed i was back at EA, and being hassled for not having removed all personal objects from my cube before reporting for the fire drill. )

a day in the life

justjenine is going to love this one. a shining example of the comedy of errors that is my life.

i think i've posted already about my frantic race to find a maid service who could help me out on short notice. last night i finally lined someone up. today was supposed to be the first day of inspections. "oh, they won't get to me tomorrow," i thought. usually when they inspect they do the building down the hill from this one first. usually they work up from the first floor. usually i'm one of the last few to be inspected. no problem.

2:30 a.m.: i finally go to bed, having spent the last eight hours cleaning like a maniac.
8:00 a.m.: i drag myself out of bed, barely able to keep my eyes open, and have a double shot of decaf espresso.
9:00 a.m.: i take a shower.
10:00 a.m.: the housekeepers arrive.
12:00 p.m.: my power gets turned off. forgot to pay the bill. oops!
12:15 p.m.: the property manager shows up. aie! he's cool about it, though. thank god the kitchen was already clean.
12:45 p.m.: i spend half an hour navigating automated phone menus and discovering that PG&E has changed its phone number and procedure for phone payments before i'm finally assured that the power will be on "sometime between now and 8 p.m."
2:00 p.m.: having cleaned the bathroom in the dark and dusted everything in sight and a number of things that aren't, the housekeepers leave, promising to return as soon as i call and tell them the power's on.
2:10 p.m.: the power comes back on.
2:45 p.m.: the housekeepers return.
4:30 p.m.: the housekeepers leave, having vacuumed everything that sat still within an inch of its life.
5:30 p.m.: iceberg finally emerges from his hiding place and inspects the clean apartment, so twitchy that the slightest movement from me several feet away will send him darting back to wherever he hid from the horrible vacuum monster.
5:45 p.m.: i realize i desperately need a massage. and for somebody to cook me some lovely fish. with lemon. and yellow squash. accompanied by a nice crisp sauvignon blanc.
6:00 p.m.: i contemplate whether there's the slightest possibility i'll be able to drag myself down the hill for some sole and squash.

damn, i am seriously worn out. i worked almost as hard as they did. and let me tell you, they worked hard. if you need housecleaners on the peninsula, call Maria's Housecleaning (but talk to Priscila or Jose -- Maria speaks no English). they're absolutely amazing. i've had a lot of cleaners in here, and not one of them has made the place this clean before.

they cleaned the baseboards. they moved my dresser and my couch (both of which are insanely heavy -- ask scothen_krau or kratkrat) and vacuumed behind/under them. they vacuumed my kilims, set them aside, vacuumed under them, and then put them back and vacuumed the other side. they even polished my guitars. my kitchen cabinets look almost as barely tolerable as when i moved in here ten years ago. and get this: they dusted and cleaned the toaster i've been storing on top of the cabinets. and my computer keyboards. and the tops of the bookcases.

i am so hiring these people.