I know I love words and grammar more than the average American. In fact, I wish I had thought to write this book, http://greattypohunt.com/. However, bestseller or not, I despise the presence of unwelcome typos in my own life.
In the last two weeks I have received THREE pieces of mail from my health insurance with the wrong house number. Each time my neighbor graciously circles the number and puts a big question mark next to it before shuffling it back through the mail.
Thus far I have tried to change the typo online. Twice. No go. So today I finally called HR. (I always think of these things at 11 at night when there are no humans to be found.) I explained the situation. Got transferred to another department. Sat on hold. Got transferred again. Finally, got a real person in the correct department. The lady on the other end is "new at this and I'm not really sure what to do" as the person she is filling in for is "fixin' to have a baby." Fixin'? Seriously? One can be fixing to do a lot of things, but a baby is not usually one of them. So she bummed around on the system for a while before declaring she didn't know how to fix it. Then she suggests I call the insurance people directly.
So I called United Healthcare. Sat on hold waiting for a real person. Gotta love that electronic voice system and 80's power ballads. Went through my ID number, full name, birthday, SSN, mother's maiden name, favorite ice cream, blood type, and color of my toenail polish. Explained the problem. "Oh. We can't edit your address. That has to come from your employer for security issues. [pause] [half-hearted] Sorry."
Cool. Neighbor at 4717, please don't hate me. I'm trying, really. I promise...
I love love love love LOOOOOVE the beach. A LOT. As if you couldn't tell. It is probably my favorite place on the planet. And I haven't even SEEN the whole planet. This summer I have the privilege of spending two glorious back-to-back weeks on the sand.
This week I'm hanging with my small group and a compilation of other random people (friends, friends of friends, relatives, etc) at a beach house in Duck, NC. This place seems to be so much on vacation it forgot that two decades have gone by. I am currently sitting in a expertly crafted wicker chair with a mallard duck throw pillow. There is wood paneling on every wall except the bath tub. There's also a lovely pair of glass blown mallards hanging from the candle holders (sans candles). And to top it off, a beautiful wreath covered in sea treasures. The decor gives the place character.
So far my days have been spent sleeping in, eating Berry Berry Kix (I'm on vacation from being a grownup too), reading books, completing numerous crosswords half-way, and then sprawling out on the sand from 12-5. Happy hour, followed by dinner at 9, and playing Mario Cart and Time's Up until wee hours of the morning. Life is rough. My only complaint is that the jellyfish also like the beach so I have been doing a happy little dance in the ocean just to get in swim time (and not get stung).
I can't believe there are only three more days of week one. Back to reading/relaxing/being a bum. No more computer. I can use that the other 5o weeks of the year. Oceans are in short supply in DC.