How NOT to Prevent Identity Theft

I finally sat down and did my WV taxes earlier this week. I don't know why I put it off so long. It took all of about 5 minutes thanks to my pathetic lack of deductions.

Sealing the envelope, which contained my social security number, of course, and a (thankfully small) personal check, I recalled the advice of identity theft prevention gurus and decided not to attach it to the mailbox by my front door.

No, this precious envelope should be delivered directly to a post office or official USPS mailbox.

The Next 72 Hours
Day 1
Packed envelope in work bag so I could mail it at lunch.

Worked through lunch...but never fear, I'll put the envelope on top of my desk so I won't forget to mail it after work.

Midafternoon: envelope is gone! OMG, did someone swipe it? Who would want my tax return? Wait, maybe it's in the car.

Thorough evening searches of the car, work bag, and house yielded nothing. WTF? It must be at work.

Day 2
Desperately searched desk and cubicle. Nada.

Lightbulb comes on: check behind the desk.

Crawled underneath desk and wedged hand & arm behind drawers. Found the envelope!

Congratulated self on sheer brilliance.

Got into car that evening and placed envelope in passenger's seat so I wouldn't forget to swing by the post office.

Day 3
Discovered envelope on passenger's seat in plain view, with address up so all who passed could see it was for the State Tax Department.

Congratulated self on sheer stupidity.

Deposited envelope in post office box at Kroger -- I think.

Left Kroger with a cart full of groceries and absolutely no memory of depositing the envelope. But if I didn't mail it, where did it go?

Monitoring checking account to see if (thankfully small) check clears.

GAH!

Cause for Celebration

It's a very special night -- the first of three new episodes of House!

To celebrate, I'm making a new recipe: creamy chicken lasagna. So far it looks like it's going to be a little on the crispy side because I forgot and put fat free cheese on top.

Besides eating, which is a given, here's what I've been doing during the writer's strike:

1. Cleaning -- but not really enough to notice


2. Organized my sheet and t-shirt drawers


3. Watching Deal or No Deal and getting irate at the contestants. They definitely wouldn't want me on that show because I'd grab anything over $50,000 and run.


4. Keeping up with the various state scandals by reading the entertaining comments on HK's blog. This is sometimes better than most any TV show.

2008 Round-up

I haven't been posting much of late, for numerous reasons, but here are some of the things that have happened so far in the new year:

• I went downhill skiing for the fourth time in my life. No injuries.


• I went cross country skiing for the first time and, during an awkward fall that sent the side of a ski up my, um, well -- I cracked my tail bone. (self-diagnosis...it's either cracked or severely bruised)


• Upon learning my age, my elderly female neighbor gasped and expressed deep concern over my withering lady parts. In the future, when revealing my age to people who don't really need to know, I shall reduce my age by five years because I really can't handle the impending doom of my eggs being the FIRST THING people think of when I say my age.

My vacant uterus is really not your concern

Awhile back, a member of the group I spend a lot of time with announced that he and his wife were expecting. We were all very excited, and after congratulating him and asking a few questions (due date, etc.), someone turned the conversation to "Gee, I wonder who will be next to have a baby."

Looking at me.

WTF? I live alone with 2 cats and obsess over feeding wild birds, a piddly little garden, laminate floors, and the like. That doesn't strike me as the recipe for imminent impregnation.

It wasn't the first time they'd expressed concern over my biological clock ticking down to nothing, and I'm always taken aback. (I should note that these are not close friends) Despite my tomboyish nature, I really am well aware of how these things work, and I'm extremely aware of my age. So, really, I don't need mere acquaintances delving into my reproductive future, or lack thereof.

Does every childless person get this sort of questioning from random people?

Just the Look I Was Going For

As I've said before, going to get my haircut often leads to uncomfortable conversations about my hair.

Here's how it went today:

Stylist: So, how much do you want off?
Me: About an inch.
Stylist: And this is how you normally wear it -- kind of messed up on top?

Sigh.

(By the way, I had just dashed through a downpour about an hour earlier, so no, it's not how I normally wear it.)

Embarrassing Conversation Habit

Since I seem to be one of the only never-married, childless mid-30-something women in the area, I'm always struggling to find some way to relate to my acquaintances when they discuss their families.

I've noticed a startling habit from which I absolutely MUST break myself.

Fictional example:

Acquaintance - "Now that little Bobby is mobile, he just won't stay out of the kitchen cabinets."

Me - "Oh yeah, when L was a kitten she went through a phase where she was breaking into the cabinets all the time. She was also a terror when it came to houseplants."

**panic**

OMG...what did I just say? I just equated my tabby to her toddler?!

I know how awful it is the second it leaves my mouth, but there's no taking it back. Even throwing in "not that kittens compare to toddlers, of course" along with some nervous laughter doesn't make it much better.

So, yeah, this is something I have to work on, or become even more reclusive to avoid such opportunities for embarrassment.

New Recipe Prompts Purchase of Carbon Monoxide Detector

I decided to try a new recipe Sunday -- chicken with yogurt sauce -- from an Indian cookbook I got recently. It turned out quite nice, actually, and I had a lovely feast of that and some basmati rice.

As I was cleaning up the kitchen, I kept smelling an ever-so-faint hint of natural gas when I passed the (electric) stove.

Hmmm. The stove is approximately right over the gas water heater in the basement. Was it leaking and coming up from the basement? There was no odor at all in the basement. Still, it was enough to make me worry.

A bit of background: Last year I had two minor gas leaks in my basement, so I'm probably more sensitive than the average person to suspicious odors.

Just to be on the safe side, I immediately went out in the cold and bought a carbon monoxide detector. I plugged it in, and nothing. No siren.

Well, it was a relief. I went to sleep without worries, and I didn't think of the possible gas leak until a couple of days later when I got the leftovers out of the fridge.

Magically, the odor of natural gas returned.

Perhaps it was the garam masala, or the ground coriander, or the combination of everything thrown in together -- who knows -- but sure enough, it was my chicken with yogurt sauce leftovers.

Yes, I bought a carbon monoxide detector because of my own cooking!

But you know, after the horrible incident this week in Ghent, I don't mind overreacting over the possible presence of a flammable gas. How awful. It's accidents like that that make me want to hide from the world.