"Tired" is the buzz word for the last couple of weeks. By the time I get home from work at night, I'm barely keeping my eyes open. I'm hoping that's a good pregnancy sign, because other than that I'm not having a lot of symptoms. But no bleeding at least. Yes, there is that.
Lots of things going on the past few weeks. B and I celebrated our 20th year as a couple, though honestly five of those were spent living in separate time zones as we did the college long-distance dance. It probably made it easier for him to put up with me, though, so it wasn't all bad.
My much-maligned Missouri Tigers are the No 1 college football team in the country, at least for another half an hour, and to get there they beat the KU Jayhawks, one of the bitterest rivalries in college sports. That game was extremely fun to watch. Honestly, when I was a student at Mizzou (1989-1993) you only bought tickets to the football games because you had to in order to get tickets for the basketball games. I was, however, on the goal line for the infamous 5th down game vs. Colorado, and I can tell you that even if Colorado hadn't been given a 5th down, that guy did not break the goal line.
Anyway, I know you, my beloved readers, do not stop here for football news. You also come for the bitching. And this time I have a doozy: Our new cleaning person stole my cell phone.
I plugged in the phone Sunday night before bed because I keep getting a lot of political calls (the number is still registered in Iowa) and so forgot to take it with me Monday morning. I remember this vividly because I needed to make a long-distance call to the pharmacy where I get my progesterone injection meds Monday but couldn't do it from work because I forgot the phone. When I got home B told me he'd left me a voice mail. But when I looked for the phone, it was gone, AND SO WAS THE CHARGER. The cleaning person did, however, leave a good number of dust bunnies behind the door in my office.
I thought it was suspicious, but I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and look for it in the house on the chance that I had a brain aneurysm and forgot I put it someplace else. I looked everywhere in the house--even the freezer. Every drawer, every shelf. It was not in the house. It was not in the car. It was not in my office at work.
I called the number, and even though I never, ever turn the phone off, it wasn't ringing: The calls went straight into voicemail. Hmmm. Suspicious. I also could not hear it ring anywhere in the house. I checked my messages, and there was B's voicemail. Nothing else. I called Verizon, but no calls have been made since Sunday when I saw it last. I can't cancel the service without affecting B's minutes as well, so I decided to leave it on and see what happened. I sent a text message telling her that I know she has the phone, and I want it back. Nothing.
Yesterday I called again. The phone was magically turned back on. I called the cleaning company to tell them I was canceling the service, and when they asked why, I told them I was pretty sure their girl had taken my phone. But I have no proof, and I could tell the woman on the phone didn't believe me. "Oh, you'll find it somewhere," she said, in that maddening Upper Midwest denial-voice that makes my head feel like it will explode.
It really frosts my cookies that someone would come into my house and take the phone. It's not that I can't replace it, but I would seriously like to hunt the bitch down and remind her why Thou Shalt Not Steal. Grrrr. Call me a goody two-shoes, but I've never taken something that didn't belong to me and never would. It's a violation of trust.
And I was going to give her a Christmas bonus. Guess she took it for herself.
UPDATE 12/4: The cleaning company called me back today to follow up. Looks like Miss Thing is going to be getting a grilling from her boss. There's nothing they can do--she'll deny everything, of course--but I feel better knowing that at least someone's going to ask her about it and she'll have to sweat it a little.
