Driving Cold and Rain

I have decided the folks at immigration must be loving the sweet timbre of my voice, and that’s why my three year old, Lanes’, card is still missing. As a result of this, I have had to call every week. Well, I didn’t call last week, and I don’t want to call this week. As for the job situation, it feels like we got invited to an exclusive fancy dress ball, so we got all dolled up, but no one is asking us to dance. Side benched or sideswiped, I don’t know, but I give up.

For the sake of my mental health, I am going to let go of things not in my control (yeah right). I am now concentrating my efforts on officially getting myself behind the wheel (of fortune I wish). But as you can probably guess, there are some procedures that go along with it.

I have succeeded in losing my US driver’s license, which has long since expired any old how. Apparently, I could have traded it in for BC driver’s license had I been more careful with it. I’m not too bent out of shape about it, as I decided I should practice some before running loose on the roads. It seems the responsible thing to do.

I want to test myself in the snow and rain, and highways freak me out. Also, BC has some flashing green lights. Should I stay or should I go? I need to figure out what that means--I think it has something to do with watching out for pedestrians. I have to study a booklet and then take a learner’s test and do an eye exam.

Always organized, my diligent spouse, P, had his expired US license and managed to get a letter from the DMV in Maryland verifying he has a clear record. He managed to get a BC license without taking either a driving or a written test. They only checked his eyesight. Why couldn’t I be this with the program? Why am I always such a hot mess? It seems like I’m allergic to making my life easier.

Any old how I decided it’s best to take some ‘lessons’ after I get my learner’s permit. I have to have a licensed driver with me at all times while I am on the permit. If I drive around with P, he will drive me insane, and I’d be tempted to drop him off on the side of a highway somewhere.

So for everyone’s sake, I thought I’d just drive around with a ‘professional’ and get used to the highways. If I can get Lanes to school and back and go to the supermarket/doctor/mall/my favorite Canadian rock star’s house, I mean concert, I’ll be happy. 

I have not actually started studying for the written test though, since I’m on a one woman mission to find another apartment. We sprung another leak in our living room, and when I went down to complain, because no one ever answers the phone in that office, they said they already knew.

I wondered if they were reading my blog or were spying on us, but then they said apparently this time a pipe had burst on the 4^th floor and they were going to wake us up at 5:30am to warn us but they didn’t want to disturb us. I guess they figured sleep trumped saving furniture.

I’m starting to find this whole place rather ridiculous. It’s minus something or the other every night and we have no control over the heat. It seems like the heater is hardly on, so my efforts to constantly check that nothing is touching the vents are pointless. I guess on the plus side, if I ever run out of room in my freezer, I can keep meat and ice cream in the bedroom.

One night, I woke up thinking a hoard of angry beavers were chomping on the bed, but it was really P shivering so hard, his teeth were chattering. P, who is generally blasé about these things, is fuming so much over the lack of heat, I’m surprised his fury is not keeping him warm.

Luckily, Lanes likes it a little cold, and it doesn’t bother me too much. I can live with the cold as long as we have hot water, but whenever the water is switched off, we don’t have hot water for a long time. Tomorrow there is another water cut from 9am-5pm. Does this make sense in a building that’s still under Fire Watch?

Meanwhile our neighbor ‘Aunty G’, always the bringer of good news, gave me a detailed play by play on how someone got shot in our lobby two and a half years ago. I was skeptical and did some internet research only to find out the story is true!! Not only that, shortly before this incident, parts of the other tower in our complex fell down due to a wind storm. Why didn't I think to google all this before moving in here? 

I was in a huff and a puff after my late night web surfing session and before our house falls down, I want to move. However, there are many obstacles in the way of this. We can’t move because we don’t know where in BC, or Canada at this rate, P’s job will be. And the second, and most important to me, is that Lanes loves her school and I can’t bear the thought of changing schools. I just can’t do that to her.

P, however, is determined to move in June when Lanes is on summer holiday. We would most probably have to move out of Burnaby since we can’t find any place with  a better rent than what we have (maybe that should have been a clue to run like the wind from this place). That would mean poor Lanes would have to be uprooted again. 

I really pray that P gets a job before June. In Burnaby.  

Miracles can happen and minds can be changed is all I’m hoping for. I guess we will eventually see Lanes’ PR card, and hopefully even a temp job will materialize for P in the near future. My sense of optimism is springing as much leaks as our apartment. 

So I’ll focus on the things I can work on, and I’ll go and finally open that learner’s manual that’s been gathering dust under the bed. It might be frozen shut, so after a quick chuck in the microwave (no need to call the FD, they are probably in our lobby as usual any old how), I’ll have a quick look. At least my faithful fans will have lots to laugh about once I get motorized…so until next time…

Reflections

All things remain the same. My poor better half, P remains unemployed, my 3 year old, Lanes, has yet to receive her PR card, and I’m still going slightly mad between these two issues. Actually, I have officially given up trying to even figure out where in Canada Lanes’ card is, or what’s going on with it. It’s like a stale bad joke.

It has been an emotional rollercoaster of a week for me. It started off on a really bad note, when I found out that one of my coworker’s/friend’s from Sri Lanka had passed away. I normally try to control my emotions around Lanes, but I couldn’t help but cry when I heard the news. I was skating around on thin ice all week, and this news made me feel like I slipped through the cracks and was drowning in a cold lake of misery (I’m using ‘Canadian’ imagery like ice & skating as part of my assimilation process).

Lanes, slightly concerned that her mom was going loco, immediately began drawing smiley faces for me and she gave me her favorite Spongebob Squarepants Valentines Day card which she got from a classmate. She also decided I should feel better because Daddy was going to get me a puppy. If only P knew.

Any old how, one of my most fond memories of my friend was when he came to my office (he was in a different building) with his wife’s gall stones. The poor woman was operated the day before and he was so fascinated by her post-op souvenir, he had to bring it in for me to see.

A certified germaphobe, I nearly passed out when he emptied the contents of a tiny jar onto my table, right by my keyboard. Then I became rather dizzy with panic when he strongly urged me to touch them because they were so cool. Not wanting to overshadow his enthusiasm, I gingerly prodded one with my index finger(while 2% of me marveled that 24 hours ago it was residing within his wife).

Fortunately for me, like any true germaphobe, I was armed with a wide array of disinfectants. When he left, I quickly reached into my supply of disinfectant wipes and scrubbed my finger and my table ferociously.  I added some disinfectant gel to the mix and ran up to wash my hands too for good measure. Stones aside though, he would come visit almost daily, with no biological byproducts, for a mid-day break and we’d have a really good chat.

I regret that I never told him about this blog. He would have had a good laugh, but he began ailing soon after we moved here, and as much as he loved to read, he was not the web surfing type. I guess now he has front row seats to the series of comedic errors that is my life.

In other news, my cousin had extended his stay and he was around this week as well. It was rather trying because we kept butting heads initially, and this eventually led to a major showdown. Once the dust settled from the fallout, we finally realized the root of our issues, and now have moved onward and upwards in our relationship. I think.

While my cousin and I were playing Russian roulette with words, P, ever eager not to get involved in family dramas, or any dramas for that matter, waited a squeamish distance away from us until all was well, under the guise of babysitting Lanes. 

At least my nutty sister is safely tucked away across the border. I would hate to think what adding her into this crazy mixture of relatives would do. I’d probably spontaneously combust from angst, which would be no good in this dilapidated building, which by the way, is still on ‘Fire Watch’.

I still don’t know what it means. As some erudite tenant wrote on the notice in the elevator ‘what does that mean? Happy Valentines Day mom’. I guess ‘Fire Watch’ is like ‘Baywatch’ without the hotties? I wonder where I can audition? I just made the smoke detector go off in our living room while trying to roast an acorn squash. I wonder if there will be firemen scaling the walls within the next few minutes.

To add insult to injury, for two days we had five hour water cuts. I guess it makes sense when a building is on Fire Watch. Some neighbors are complaining that they have little water in their bathrooms after these infamous cuts. The heaters also seem to not be on as high as they need be, because of condensation issues in the loos I guess, or maybe due to the Fire Watch. All I know is that this week we had snow twice and I felt the heat was inadequate.

I’m feeling chilled to the bones, but the weekend was sunny and beautiful. P was getting ready to ensconce himself before the computer, but I put my foot down and made him go outside with us. A little coaxing by Lanes helped, as I’m noticing that he finds it a little hard to resist requests that begin with ‘Daddy?’

If P had his way, well I guess he’d have a job, but he could literally spend all day and night scouring the internet for jobs and making tailor made resumes per job. If the world ended, the only survivors would be P, his computer, and a couple of roaches. He would still be typing away, undaunted and oblivious to the fact that the world had reset itself and evolution was taking place all over again.

On Saturday, we went into Vancouver to visit my parents’ friends and we had a lovely visit. All three of us enjoyed the drive, and I loved seeing the snow capped mountains, nicely juxtaposed alongside tall buildings. I hope one day to have a view of the mountains. On Sunday we went to Church, did some errands and took Lanes out for a shake. She feels no outing is complete without having a good chocolate drink and possibly some French fries.

I had decided to get Lanes a pet, something along the lines of a goldfish or two. My cousin bought her a ZhuZhu pet, which is like a mechanized hamster. Lanes grins and says it’s her pet monster, not hamster, and he lives inside her faux fur trimmed clogs. It’s actually quite a cozy fit and I’m rather impressed at her ingenuity.

I was happy that Lanes had a ‘pet’ that didn’t eat, didn’t poop, and couldn't die. I was wrong on the last count because her little pet monster flew off the table and we thought it had come to sad end. We told her he was sleeping, when she asked why he was no longer his frisky self.

P was out and about and saw another one on sale and quickly bought a replacement ‘monster’ (that’s what I was planning to do with the goldfish—just keep replacing them to avoid awkward talks about life). The first pet miraculously came back to life and now we have two pet monsters. The green one lives in the left clog, and the grey one in the right one.

So another week has gone by, with nothing new happening. P is still doing his best, Lanes has embarked on a mission to find me a black lab after hearing stories about my late dog and companion Muttley, and I am fretting and dreading any potential bureaucracy that comes with getting a learner’s permit—and that shall we what next week’s blog is about. Until next time….

This blog entry is dedicated in loving memory of my dear friend Anton Enas. 

And When Things Go Wrong

No wonder they say when it rains it pours!! For once I am not talking about the BC weather—it has been quite good in general compared to the rest of the country. It’s just been one of those weeks that go on and on and on. My life is one step away from sounding like a country music song. You know the one with the twang that goes something like my dog died, my bf took my truck and my boots don’t fit? My one is more like my relatives are driving me insane, I wish my phone died, and I think I’m going slightly mad.

My better half P got a job with the temp agency, but as much as they loved him, they were not able to pay the temp agency to keep him on as a permanent feature. That was the supreme bummer of the week. It’s like being told you won the lottery, only for some guy in a suit to come to your front door and say they read the numbers incorrectly and now they have to give the million to someone else.

I got on the phone to check on the status of our 3 year old, Lanes’, PR card, for what must be the 131^st time, and each time I waited for ten minutes and was about to get a real live person on the phone, my phone died. No kidding. I am convinced that when P is not around, the phone is out to get me.

However, when my nutty sister or a telemarketer wants to call and nag me about something, the phone works just absolutely fantastically. Where’s the sense in that? There is no justice in the world!! So on the worst day of last week, I thought I’d lie down after making dinner since I had spent several nights with little or no sleep due to severe back pain.

But, no, what happens just as my weary head hits the pillow? I hear drilling. Nonstop, loud, annoying, wall shaking drilling. The patient Korean neighbors had a leak in their bathroom and they were trying to fix it. To make it worse, every time the drilling stopped, I swore I could hear the discombobulated voice of our neighbor, Aunty G (no doubt inspecting the repairs). Rest assured, I was getting no rest.

That night P came home, feeling blue about the job, although he was trying not to show it, and Lanes had got into the fridge and kept the chocolate milk sideways on the top most shelf. Milk had spilled into every nook and cranny of the fridge, let me tell you, it was in the drawers, in with the tomatoes, in the cheese, in anything and everything. When I opened the door, it looked like we had installed a chocolate milk fountain in there.

Between my lack of sleep, the general tone of the week, and my back aches, I just had to sit and have a good old fashioned cry. Of course P walks in and thinks I’m having a crazy hormonal moment since he had no idea how the day had gone—he figures how can someone have a bad day without leaving the house? Well, apparently, it is possible, and I’m the one to do it.

The building woes continue. We are currently on 24 hour Fire Watch. Whatever that means. If anyone knows, please tell me. It just doesn’t sound good. I asked management and they gave a little too quick slightly shifty response about some panels getting damaged after the great flood. We see firemen coming and checking in from time to time.

The good thing is that the fire department wants the laundry room door shut at all times during this ‘watch’ and some tenants take that to mean that the laundry is off limits so I no longer have to apply my ninja techniques in securing a machine.

Towards the end of the week, after waging war on the phone again (which means I just ferociously made sure it was actually charging), I finally got through to a real live person and found out that at least Lanes’ updated photos were received (obviously, I had to hand deliver them—another story for a better episode), so something is happening and it’s no longer in limbo. We hope.

This weekend was also crazy with the arrival of my sister and her crew and also my cousin from Nova Scotia is in town to visit his girlfriend. Everyone was fascinated by the ‘Fire Watch’. This apartment has become a great source of entertainment for them. Their visit even comes with tours like 'and this is the gaping hole where the ceiling leaked'.

And to make it that much better, that night my sister and her family went for a walk (to secure samosas after a fiasco with dinner--don't ask), and firemen were inspecting the building when they walked in!! It was almost like I planted them there on cue. Apparently, it was a routine check up (my sibling had to ask, the inquisitive so and so).

I annoy my cousin, so I’m assuming he is crazy silly about his girlfriend since he extended his stay by a week. I’m not so sure what I’m going to feed him. Hmm. P has a terrible habit of not responding to a question unless it’s asked 23 times, and my cousin doesn’t know this so he started yelling at me whenever I repeat a question to P. I can’t win I tell you. The week just gets better and better.

My sister, her family and my cousin are all bent on cheering P up because they feel bad about the job. Unfortunately, that means I get a lot of the flack. Ok so I’m a little moody, but I really could have skipped the lecture about producing a sibling for Lanes. Why doesn’t P get these talks? One would think he is supposed to be involved in this process.

Meanwhile, P the eternal optimist, is happy he has a recommendation under his belt after his stint and is hopeful for the future. Everyone seems to think that since I’m not in the job hunt, out of necessity, not choice, it’s all good for me.

Actually, it’s rather frustrating being the one who has to stay home and ensure everyone else has a life. I would love to zip around town and have a job of my own, but my priority right now is to get P and Lanes settled. I think when Lanes is big and she and P are doing their own thing, I’m going to start a club for the spouses of immigrants who have to stay home for their kids!! I hope they are a sarcastic bunch: )

At least Lanes loves me. She is wondering why her uncle and aunt (the girlfriend) are in her room. I noticed she is stealthily ferreting out her favorite toys from there and stashing them in my closet and under our bed. I think she thinks they are playing with them while she is sleeping or something. Who knows the true inner workings of the mind of a 3 year old?

The positive side to this week is that a.) P's temp job gave him some Canadian work experience b.) we now know Lanes’ PR card might materialize c.) the fridge got a good cleaning d.)my back is much better. Not so sure what the good side about the Fire Watch is. Seeing hot firemen I suppose, but I don’t think that does much for P. Next week I’m off to try to figure out taking part of a driving test. That should be very amusing!!

Customer Disservice

Another week has gone by, and we have yet to receive our little 3 year old, Lanes’, PR card.  I tried calling about it again, but all the agents were busy. Apparently, Thursdays and Fridays are their less busy days.  The automated voice also says that the call can be terminated if the caller is abusive. 

The last thirty five times I called, I wondered what morons were abusing those call agents, but now I'm beginning to wonder if I will wind up being one of those people. I saved the number on my phone today, since I think I'l be calling many many more times. When will we ever see this card?

Besides running around like a contestant on ‘The Amazing Race’ to complete and hand in some stuff (that was a result of someone else’s negligence) for Lanes’ PR card, I found myself fighting battles on behalf of my hassled better half, P.  One month after having made a shipment with a courier company, P got an invoice asking for a payment for it. I won’t name the company, but let us say its logo is brown and its initials spell out the opposite of down.

Customer service was of no help, insisting we deal with the franchise instead. Apparently, the parent company has no control over franchises, but it was frustrating that they want the customer to solve problems for them. Since P had the credit card statement as proof of payment, he just wanted to inform them of the accounting/billing error.

I was adamant in writing one of my (in)famous complaint letters, so I took over the phone call since I noticed a vein dangerously protruding out of P’s temple. The customer service rep was useless, and I allegedly had the manager on line. She announced that she has no last name, you know like Cher or Madonna, but I got her extension.

She kept insisting that we go to the store and try to see what happened. I refused since it was not our error and I had no time to waste on that. Then she said if I had time to talk to her on the phone, I had time to go to the store. I think this company should incorporate an automated voice saying calls can be terminated for abusive language.

Any old how, it was very annoying, but I felt happy that I could write a nasty letter. There is nothing like it. If the right hand doesn’t know (or want to know) what the left hand is doing in such a big company, there really is something wrong.

We are still unclear if it is a genuine error made by the franchise (the folks there had better phone skills) or some sort of ploy to double charge. I haven’t felt like being irritated lately so I never called the franchise back about it. I only hope they sorted it out, just in case it affects our credit history or something.

Meanwhile, we are all on cold/allergy number 108. The assistant manager and head maintenance man, who I call ‘Mr. Condensation’ came door to door to check all the apartments. One of the walls in our apartment has been vibrating a lot lately and I brought it to their attention. I just wanted to make sure there were no pipes there.

Mr. Condensation came up with some cockamamie story about how it’s the vibrations from heavy vehicles going on the road. Even the asst manager had to raise an eyebrow, since the vibrating can go on for a few minutes at times. He suggested I move around my wall sconces so that the sound won’t bother me, and he said he would help with that. I declined since it would mess up the symmetry of my décor, and that just doesn’t sit right with the anal part of me (92%).

Like 98% of the bathrooms in this building, water pools at the back of our toilet, and Mr. Condensation quickly announced that it was due to, well here’s the part where he earns his name, condensation. He is the same bright spark who said our ceiling was leaking due to condensation but it turned out to be a leaky pipe.

I told the assistant manager they can do what they want, but to note that I have informed them about the issues I am aware of, so I have done my duty. Mr. Condensation came up with some theory about the cold water in the toilet clashing with the warm air in the apartments. His final decision was to turn down the heat to the building, always a good idea in winter, so that there is less hot air and all the apartments would have dry bathroom floors.

Having had several bath mats ruined by ‘condensation’, between you and me, my final conclusion is that all the hot air in the building is floating between Mr. Condensation’s ears. I am also happy to write a recommendation for him to get a job in customer service for that courier company. He will be the perfect fit. His hot air would balance out their frigid cold attitude.

And it’s not just that. When we first moved here, P had subscribed to a mobile phone service that charged for everything. As immigrants, we had no choice since we had no address, no PR card, no credit history, and thus we had no choice.

If they could charge P for every time he turned his phone on and off, he would. He has since swapped carriers and is very happy. Then, every month there are some extra question marks on our phone bill (it’s bundled). P has to call it in and every month we are given an apology and a credit. It’s a good thing P has a sharp eye for numbers.

The first month, I took it for granted that we were charged what we owed and nearly paid it in good faith. Luckily, P wanted to double check the figures since it seemed off(and that is why he is the finance guy). I hate to admit, I pay for things blindly. I also think 2+2 is 5, so therein lies the problem. If only we could get a credit for the time we waste as customers, clinging onto the phone.

Any old how, things continue as usual. P is finding some positive feedback after downgrading his resume and going with a temp agency. It’s a good thing, since he was close to adding words like ‘flambéing’ to his resume—and he is no chef. He did however, for the first time since I’ve known him, make a potato curry, which I begrudgingly had to agree was not bad at all.

Lanes is looking a lot like how she did was she was a wee baby after her new hair cut. When the hair stylist realized how fast her hair grows, he went to town with the scissors. Luckily, Lanes thought it was funny. Her favorite past time right now is pretending to be a wolf (and I’m her dinner).

As for me, my main goal is to get P and Lanes sorted out in their respective lives, and I have this blog as the one ‘me’ thing. Will catch up again next week…