No Momentum, Just Repair Work

Philadelphia

According to Wikipedia:
"A train wreck occurs when a train crashes. It most often occurs as a result of an accident, as when a wheel jumps off a mislain track, or miscommunication, as when a moving train meets another train on the same track, or when the locomotive explodes.
The term "train wreck" is also used metaphorically to describe something distasteful or disastrous, yet inevitable."

Well, dear readers, I would describe the last 8 weeks as a trainwreck. But this past week has raised the bar--which is why I have not been writing. I've been fixing track, re-routing boxcars full of goods, and off-loading passengers.

Last week's first disaster began exactly at the stroke of midnight on Monday. I took my laptop upstairs next to my bed, so that when I wakened in the middle of the night, I could go online and snatch some lowfare airline tickets that were to go onsale beginning at 12:01am on May 1.

About 2am, I woke up enough to punch the on button, waiting sleepily for the familiar chiming sound that indicates it is booting up. I waited and I waited and I waited. Then, I tried again. I tried again four separate times. And finally, I got the dreaded [?] sign in the middle of the screen. Translation: where is your hard drive, Miss Mary? The system crashed. Oh, my god, THE SYSTEM CRASHED. I bundled up and went downstairs to call the airline, wrapping myself up against the cold house.
When I dialed the number, I got the automated screener. "Hello", said a cheery, android-sounding male voice. "My name is Aiden. I'm going to help you with your reservation. Let's get started."

Now, if I had time, I would tell you about the three times I got all the way to confirming and paying for my ticket, when Aiden, his e-voice lilting, in response to something I either punched into the phone or said on cue: "I'm sorry. I can't help you anymore. Let me transfer you to an agent." Then, another recording after several clicks with a perky, female droid: "I'm sorry but our offices aren't open now. Please try again later."

That's how my week began.

Tuesday, I ordered a new $1400 computer. Wednesday, my IT guy told me that everything on the hard drive was irretrievable.

Wednesday, my contractor, who is trying to repair $20,000 worth of water damage from a water pipe break due to frozen pipes, told me that he would have to work on it next week. Picture walking to your garage on 2x4 planks instead of flooring, and doors that open and close due to the water swelling with the sound and difficulty of the old radio show, "Inner Sanctum".

Friday, I lost my train ticket three times from the time I bought it at Union Station in Washington, D.C. and got on the train--in the span of 15 minutes.

Last night, Saturday, I joined a friend for dinner. When it was time to pay, I offered, reaching in my bag for my wallet.

Yup. You got it. No wallet. No wallet anywhere. Not in the car. Not in the house. Not at the restaurant. Someone got a motherlode since I'd just stopped at the ATM. This is too cruel. NO WALLET. OH. MY. GOD.

So, dear readers. It's 7:30am. I've got to go find a friend who will give me some cash ( I've got $1.50 in a baggy ), then re-trace my steps, superstitiously pray to St. Anthony, the patron of lost things ( and people, I presume ), and finally, call all my credit card folks and .... and....
fix
this
( please, God )
....last train wreck.

M.C.