Unpacking and refurnishing are my least favorite parts of having a new apartment. With the boxes still piled and the room still bare, the place felt at first more like a prison than a domicile.
(Remind me to tell you how I got my Serta Perfect Sleeper full size mattress and boxsprings for free.)
The first Monday of August, I called up Verizon and asked for a local landline. The signup service was quick, and the operator was friendly, and they said I would have my line activated by afternoon of the very next day. Tuesday came, but no dial tone. Wednesday, still none. Thursday, I called again, and after keeping me on hold for 30 minutes, they told me my order had never been placed. I had to repeat the signup again, and then they told me I failed a credit check — impossible since I know my credit is perfect. I got irate. I yelled. I finally got service. They say I will get my landline on August 21: a far cry from whenever that liar from the first call told me I would get my line. I must wait that long till I can decently receive phone calls or dial up from home. (Do not talk to me about broadband. I am poor.) Verizon, you blow chunks.
It turns out the Fox News DC office is right across the street. I can feel the Patriotic Brainwaves making me more Fair and Balanced by the minute.
I just found out that my neighborhood in DC is called “East End,” though more people think of it as “Union Station.”