Just Call Me Murphy

As in Murphy's Law where anything that can go wrong will. My previous post serves to foreshadow the following ten days. When the bank, insurance, whoever crazies didn't accept our signatures we should have taken it as a sign. We should have rethought, revised and determined a new plan of action. Unfortunately when both members of the couple lean towards impulsivity we just scribbled out new signatures and started unloading box after box.

First night: a Friday night, we spent hanging drapes. A, we couldn't find anything (cheap) to fully cover the front window. It now has two different style of drapes that match and clash at the same time. B, the rod for that same window had some extra parts. It's not supposed to, we just had to rig it a certain way so it worked.

Second day: Lost the keys to the FJ and the storage unit. Spent most of the day in a stupor trying to find them.

Day three: Pretty productive and the first night we slept in our new place. Lost the bed frame so we put it on the floor all classy like. Oh, and it's deadly cold outside (finally November weather as opposed to August) and NO HEAT!

Day four: After the heater is fixed it goes out again in the middle of the night. I wake up with snotcicles. We drill through tile to install a fancy shower curtain. The drill bit lasts for approximately 2.5 holes. We had four. The sales personnel at Menards knows us by name.

Day five: Heater guy comes and says he can't fix the heater, but at least it randomly turned on again. Laundry room floods.

Day six: Kitchen sinks backed up and leaking. Dishwasher takes two runs to dissolve soap. Always.

Day seven: Internet goes out. I reprogram, reset, reassemble multiple times. A wire with a short leads to a long and complicated customer service phone call in which the guy never answers my only question: "Do I have to reinstall everything in a certain order?" We do go through the entire process with me telling him, "Dude there's a short in my power cord, it's not going to change anything!"

Day eight: The cable wire for our Internet goes out....seriously?! I asked dude to check on that last night.

Day nine: Trying to install a garbage disposal. With multiple saws, drills and trips for hardware I don't imagine they'll get to plumbing the fridge.

Tomorrow will be day ten. I plan to wrap up in a blanket and have a good cry.

John Hancock Henry

Right as if moving isn't hard enough I was told that my signature wouldn't hold on my lease. The bank rejected our application and as far as we can tell we signed where appointed and printed where appointed. The advice we were given: "They want that fancy cursive, not print."

When can you tell someone their cursive signature isn't good enough? Now in 2010, when we've ditched the quills, tipped the ink and type all day every day. OHHH maybe we won't have great penmanship in this age. And maybe if it's a signature you accept it regardless if it's legible. (Half of you reading this know you almost complete the first letter of your name and hurriedly scribble out the rest.)

Mine in fact has all letters. Just for fun try it. Breanna Hall. Doesn't look horribly different in cursive.

In the heat of the moment I'd like to go over a list of things you can't refuse.

1. Signatures.
2. A fight over your original eye color.
3. Mother Nature. She's not going to change her course because you want to wear flip-flops.
4. A break up. Watch Aladdin, the Genie says it perfectly--"I can't make someone fall in love with you."
5. Your biological parents. It's a two-for-one special. Embrace it.
6. It's a John Hancock, not John Henry people! American Heritage 101.
7. The fact that this list could've been longer but my hand's cramped from getting that cursive right.

P.S. Later, when I'm feeling cheeky and no longer want to agree to that lease I can honestly say it's NOT my signature.