Going to My Happy Place


I’m about to go to the police station. I know, I was supposed to go the other day but I’m going there now and then I’m off to a board meeting for VTAC.

Currently we’re looking to raise money so that the Van Nuys Traffic Division Station can have a memorial for it’s fallen officers. If you’re in LA expect to hear from me soon. It’s a tricky ask and I’ll write about it next week at length. I can tell you that it really sucks losing your money but let’s face it, you can always get more money.

I’m trying to not let this aggravate me too much, but the fact of the matter is that I’ve now spent eight hours with bankers and there’s still more to do. I’m trying to go to my happy place.

There’s no sound on this one, so go ahead and play it even if you’re at work. Let’s go to the happy place together.

They Keep Stealing the Wrong Things


Sunday morning Mr. G was returning from a business trip and called me a little worried. “I need my license plate number. I think my car’s been stolen.”

I popped out of bed (like you don’t sleep in on a Sunday?) and danced my way to the file where I keep things like automotive registrations. I might have sang a song to myself about Getting a New Car. I might have been thrilled to be done with the Jaguar without having to go through the process of turning it in to the dealer.

I did mention to him that I’ve called the LAPD about a half dozen times because I was certain that my car had been stolen while shopping at the Beverly Center. I did also mention that it had always been found a floor up or a floor down from where I thought I’d left it. He sort of laughed me off and I giggled with him, getting very excited about the prospect of a shiny new car.

There are few things I love as much as a new car. In fact, it’s possible that new cars are the objects I love most. All of them. I get dizzy thinking about the possibilities.

So I was crushed when the car was found in the next structure over and I’m wondering if there wasn’t a bit of karma involved with what comes next.

Monday morning I logged onto my Chase.com checking account to pay a bill. Just one bill. The balance looked off so I went through and took a look at the posted transactions. I saw an ACH for $89.99 to Time Warner Cable which is odd because we don’t use cable. Then I saw one for $583.78 to Verizon and we don’t have Verizon. Of course I panicked when I saw another $5,000 worth of ACH withdrawls, mostly to Verizon and a large one to Bloomingdales.

After several hours Chase was able to credit me back the funds and I was going to wait a day or two to close the account. We are refinancing to next to nothing as an interest rate and due to close escrow tomorrow. I can’t not have a checking account tomorrow.

Well, waiting a day is obviously a bad plan because this morning I logged back on to Chase and found this.

Those are not my charges.

So now I’ve got Jane home sick from school and I’m trudging over to the bank to close the account before these ACH debits come to fruition, and tonight after I get everyone to bed I’ll be at the police station filing a theft report.

I suppose tomorrow I’ll be notifying the credit reporting agencies and hoping that no one has our social security numbers.

Why couldn’t they just steal the fucking car? I would have totally given them a head start.