Bad, bad math

Recently Rick and I purchased a new receiver for our home theatre stereo. This also involved the purchase of some rather expensive HDMI cables. It was supposed to be a relatively easy set-up, but as is often the case in these types of situations, it was a disaster. After several hours, we realized that this Would-Not-Work. The receiver was too new for our four year old TV and we couldn’t employ the whiz-bang one cable deployment that was supposed to make this oh-so-easy. Back it all had to go.

Returning the Denon receiver was a breeze, the store did not even check inside the box to ensure that the receiver was actually there and not 20 pounds of bricks. Well done Futureshop.

The cables were purchased at another store though. If you have ever purchased electronic cables, you will know that the packaging must absolutely be destroyed to get to the cables. Unfortunately, the store that the cables were purchased from had a 15% restocking fee for “opened merchandise“. Although I was irritated, the cables were no good to us and so, even though we paid $103 for them, I would rather get back the $85 or so than have cables we cannot use.

At the customer service desk (that you CANNOT get to from inside the store-we actually had to go outside and back in to get to the desk) the snarky teenager explains to me Tider Direct’s return policy.

Teenager: OK, your refund will be $99.83

Me: saying nothing, but drawing a mental question mark

Teenager (showing me the bills): OK, here is your original bill for $103.94 and here is your return of $99.83, -15%.

Me: best-ever-pokerface

She even confirmed it with another cashier that recorded meticulously the transaction details in a book.

Now, I am usually very honest and conscientious and would normally feel guilty about this but if you are in RETAIL and have no clue how to estimate 15%, I am not going to help you. Your job interview should have filtered you out of the workforce.

I grabbed my refund and my husband and fled the scene of the crime, feeling slightly vindicated. Husband still hasn’t recovered from the climax/anti-climax gyration from almost having a real home theatre setup.

The brat lives among us

My husband is a brat. There are no two ways about it.

Example #1: Last night, there was a Toyota commercial on and they were using the Fixx’s song “Saved By Zero ” to flog their 0% financing.

Me: Hey, this is that song from the 80′s

Rick: What song?

Me (singing): Maybe someday saved by zerooooooooo…

Rick: I don’t know it. I’d have to hear someone sing it.

Me: I AM singing it.

Rick: Right. You think so.

Example #2:

I ended up in the guest room last night due to Mr. Snore and this morning, he wakes up and opens the door;

Rick: Just letting some light in. Trying to save the wall.

Brat.

Feeding him is such a problem.

The last few days I have been struck down with some virulent stomach bug. I promise not to go into intimate details of my various GI issues, just know that we are all lucky that I am upright and able to post today.

I was feeling the need for some bland comfort food, so I picked up some gnocchi from the local Italian specialty store. A little bit of parmesan, a little bit of tomato sauce, yummmm. RIck has never had the pleasure of having this tasty treat and I believe (although he would vehemently deny it) that he had decided that he didn’t LIKE THEM. Because he never HAD THEM before.

I present the meal and he takes a bite. Then makes a face.

He states: Testicles. This is what I would imagine that eating testicles would be like.

Needless to say, that certainly took away a little of my enjoyment of the meal. Ah well, I wasn’t that hungry anyway.

 

What a mess.

Earlier in the week, Rick had made microwave popcorn and had used up the very bitter end of the Olivina margarine. Now, we go through a LOT of Olivina, so the empties are often used as  “pseudo-Tupperware” containers for storage of leftovers and the like.

I took the empty Olivina container and opened it and put it in the dishwasher so that it could be re-used only to discover that  this particular container that I had grabbed was already in use as storage for my flax seeds.

You would think that the “shaky shaky” sounds of the flax seeds in the container would have been a dead giveaway that something was awry. Perhaps the extra heft from a supposedly empty container? Alas, my mind was apparently elsewhere as I dumped the flax seeds into the dishwasher and all over the floor. Not only was it a mess, it was also about $8.00 worth of flax seeds!

I am still finding flax seeds on the floor and every time it gives me start like “WHOA! Is that mouse shit?” Add then I remember all over again.

Why even bother?

Last night we had some friends over for food, drinks and laughs. It was a very nice evening and we managed to use every dish in the house. Afterwards, Rick and I found a movie to watch (V is for Vendetta) and it wasn’t finished until almost one o’clock. I usually do my tidying the night of a party because I hate waking up to a mess but decided to leave most of it.

This morning, I was BLEARY with a capital B. Hardened food on plates, stuff everywhere. I made myself a cappuccino and decided to tackle the task of spot cleaning the kitchen floor. Our tiles are very light, so every spot is a screaming testament to my poor housekeeping abilities.

I was bending over, sponging the spots, moving over, sponging more spots. I got to the edge of the kitchen and realized that everytime I bent down, I spilled coffee all over the floor.  All of my newly cleaned spots are replaced with coffee drips.

And so I start again…or perhaps I should go back to bed.