DLand - What Do Stupid People Do?

My old boss Harry used to say when we were stuck with some problem, \"What do stupid people do?\". He has a doctorate in physics and I'd like to think I'm no moron. So if we were having that much trouble with something, what did the stupid people of the world do? That's how I've felt the past few days. Even just making an offer on a house is more complicated than it ever needs to be. It must be something about me or my family. My father says that the rest of the world can do things that we can't do just because that's the way it is. I wish I could just sign something and go on about my business. But I had to get plats of the property and comps for the neighborhood and the coup de grace this morning was when I called the city planning office.

The house we're looking at has been built by the owners over several years. I called to confirm that all building permits were closed. After 30 minutes on the phone with the woman downtown and a 28 page fax, I found out that almost none of their building permits have been completed, including the furnace and the gas fireplace! Am I the only one who sees a problem with hooking flammable gas up to something that hasn't been inspected? I'm sure they're all fine, but open work permits are an issue when you sell a house. And after all that we find that someone has beaten us to the offer and counter offer (because we \"wasted\" time finding out how this house came to be) so we may not even get the place. If only we were blind and clueless, we could have made a hasty offer days ago. And probably been screwed. Ugh.

DLand - A Line in the Sand

Every evening I drive by Regent University to get on the interstate and head home. I resist the urge to spit as I drive past because I'm a mature, tolerant person. I don't hate the students at the school, but I do have a bit of disdain for Pat Robertson himself. What other state would have Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson within a three hour drive? Lucky us. Last night was the first night I drove by this year after Thanksgiving. The whole campus is lit up. And it will only grow. Over the next few weeks every piece of flora or masonry will be covered in lights. The place almost glows. My mother claims that God must pay his electric bill.

Thinking about my refusal to have anything to do with Regent made me wonder if sometimes I'm a little too principled for my own good. I'm pretty stubborn about stuff at times. But I can only think that if you don't have certain standards, then you are just a cog. It's not easy, though. You have to be well researched. A few examples.

One of my classmates in college was a waitress at Pizza Hut. A group of grad students and their professor came in for lunch. She took everyone's drink order and when she asked the professor what she would like to drink she asked for a Coke.

Waitress: "Would Pepsi be alright?"

Prof (keep in mind this is back when Pepsi was getting a lot of flack for their human rights policies etc.): "NO! Pepsi is horrible. They have no concerns for human rights! I won't support them!"

Waitress: "Well, I guess you won't be needing a plate, 'cause Pizza Hut is owned by Pepsi."

The professor stared at her and then meekly asked for a glass of water.

My father is a bit of the other extreme. He refuses to buy Exxon gas. Ever since the Valdez crash, my father had no use for them. Granted, most oil companies are probably all corrupt, but he had to draw the line somewhere. My father has almost run out of gas because he won't go to Exxon. If he absolutely has to, he'll buy one gallon just so he can make it to another gas station to get gas somewhere else. He won't give them the satisfaction of a full tank. I must admit I'm almost as bad in that I don't go to Exxon's unless I can avoid it.

Bossman, though, will only go to Exxon stations. He drives a high performance car and says they have the best gas (we may all disagree on that point, but it doesn't matter). The other week we almost ran out of gas in his car because he wouldn't go to a Texaco, but drove the extra 5 miles to our local Exxon. He hates Texaco with a passion because they charged him $40 to jump his car in college after he had bought gas from them. I could have some animosity for that particular Texaco, but don't know if I could boycott the entire chain.

I know that Joe won't go to Wal-Mart. And while I really hate K-Mart, I still find myself going there because they are only across the street from our development. It shames me every time I go in there. I also hate Cracker Barrel because they're country fresh Nazis who openly discriminate against their employees (ask anyone who's worked there). But the grilled sourdough calls my name and I feel like crap every time I eat there.

Where do you draw the line between petty grudges and steadfast principles? Are there places that you won't patronize or products you won't buy?

DLand - Eight Miles

I've been avoiding Diaryland for several days. Oh, I've been an avid reader. But my life this past week has basically been focused on how much it hurts to pee. I was in bladder infection denial, but I've come around to it. And I had interesting things to share all these days, trust me. But it's hard to be cute and witty when your crotch is on fire. So I finally went to the doctor. I hate seeing doctors. You always have to go during the work day and all I can do is sit in the waiting room reading Parenting and Weight Watchers magazines and thinking of all the things I'd rather be doing than watching All My Children. Why do I sit in the waiting room for an hour to see a doctor for ten minutes?

I peed in a cup and told the nice Scottish nurse lady all about my insulin pump and the doc gave me antibiotics to take for ten days. He said they're good for bladder or kidney infections and anthrax. They actually had a poster in the waiting room warning folks not to ask for antibiotics unless they had a real reason because it wouldn't prevent them from getting anthrax. Who would have thought you would see that in your waiting room ten years ago?

Ah, so other than this week being full of pain, we've also been house shopping. We're working on an offer for one house and I was talking to my mother about it last night.

Mom: "Well, I'll go trace the plat for you downtown tomorrow so you can see the lot size. I looked at it outside earlier this week."

Me: "Thanks, I know I can't make it downtown during the day. Jack should have some information tomorrow after talking to the listing realtor."

Mom: "Yes, I like the house outside. The only thing I hate about it is it's 8 miles from our house." (We live 4 miles away right now).

Me: "That's very close, Mom. You're losing perspective. It takes 10 minutes to get to your house. We used to live 5 hours away."

Mom: "Well, what about when you have babies? How will I see them?"

Me: "I won't make them walk the eight miles to your house. When you can't drive anymore, I will even come pick you up and bring you to your grandbabies."

Mom: "I don't know. I just wish you would live closer."

Me: "Yes, Mom, I know. But I'm right by CostCo and you go there all the time. You can stop by on the way home and put stuff in our freezer."

Mom: "Ooh, that's true. I might do that."

The only other thing of note recently is I talked to a woman on the phone today with the last name Butynski. Pronounced Butt-In-Skee. Tee hee hee.