Months go by very quickly. It seems like I just paid my cellphone bill yesterday when the next one shows up in my inbox. I don’t understand how this happens. It feels like I’m always struggling to keep up. When I go online to pay, I check to make sure that in fact it was a month since I last paid, and, lo and behold, it has been. How did that happen?
On a related note, I pay a ridiculous amount of money for phones, internet and streaming services. There has to be a better way, but that would mean taking the time to research things thoroughly to figure it out. I think I am probably paying for streaming services that include other services that I pay for separately. Does that make any sense? I am probably double paying for Hulu. But it is all so complicated, and it gives me a headache, so I throw up my hands. Someday, I promise myself, I will sort it all out. Of course, they probably have a service for that – but then you’d have to pay for it. I find it very frustrating. And these companies are probably counting on our throwing up our hands to make more money.
And then there is the confusion about which streaming service plays which program. I might only watch one program on a given service – that also makes no sense. And there is almost nothing I watch on cable, except for HGTV, SNY (the Mets baseball channel) and the tennis channel. Then there is Gary’s penchant for having some version of Law and Order playing in the background for hours each evening. Sometimes I put my foot down and say that episode was just on, please find something else. But, then there is nothing else worth watching so it is back to Law and Order. So, I guess we do use cable. But it should be more straight forward. I imagine eventually, with consolidations and such, that we will be back to the equivalent of three major broadcast networks. After all, there is only so much content we can absorb.
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I just brought my car in for service. It is a Honda Accord hybrid. Aside from needing an oil change, a light came on telling me my acoustic system wasn’t working. I drove around with that message for a while since it didn’t seem to be a critical thing to the functioning of the car. If you haven’t driven a hybrid, when it is in electric mode the engine is close to silent. To make others, especially pedestrians, aware of the car, it generates a sound – so they are alerted to its presence. My car sounded like it was singing. A regular car motor you can hear. Well, the singing stopped. The part will cost $248.00 to replace, not including labor. I am not excited about spending that amount of money, but it doesn’t seem right to be putting people at risk if I don’t get it fixed. It is always something. And it always ends up costing more than $200. Sometimes it feels like we hemorrhage money. And, I can’t complain because we have the resources to pay for it. I feel for folks, the vast majority frankly, who don’t have that luxury. We used to be in that position where we lived paycheck to paycheck – it is very stressful. No one wants to hear me complain given my privilege, but I can’t help but comment on how crazy it is.
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I’ll close this blog post by noting that we are coming up on 4 months since my mom passed away. The pangs of grief that hit me come as a surprise, though they shouldn’t. I was thinking the other day about how unusual Mom was. Dad died when Mom was only 71. At that point they were living most of the time in Florida. Mom had always wanted to live in New York City, but Dad had no interest. When he passed, thanks to Mom’s sister-in-law Clair’s ingenuity, she was able to sublet an apartment from an NYU law professor in Greenwich Village for the summer. She did this for probably four or five summers, until various things made it impractical. During those summers she went to see shows – sometimes a matinee and an evening performance on the same day. She went to museums, not just the major ones. She read the New York Times arts pages looking for interesting exhibits. She invited her grandchildren and their friends to visit and stay over. She cooked them pasta from a neighborhood shop that made it fresh. Most women I know wouldn’t be able to do that. Yes, they could cook the pasta, but not the rest of it. Many women I know wouldn’t go to NYC alone – and not necessarily out of fear of crime. They would just be afraid of taking it on – all of it, negotiating the crowds, knowing where to go, etc., etc. Granted Mom had her sister-in-law nearby and her children to help out, but in a day-to-day way she was on her own and she reveled in it. I am happy that I have inherited some of that. I think nothing of driving down to the city or elsewhere by myself. She was a terrific role model. I believe my daughter has inherited that combination of confidence and curiosity that allows us to do what might be uncomfortable for others. Hopefully it will be a gift that keeps on giving.
While my relationship with Mom could be complicated, I am lucky that I got to be her daughter.
Stories I Tell Myself 