Friday, June 13, 2008


One of the problems with not feeling well is that it is just plain fucking boring. Not that there hasn't been a certain amount of excitement over the past couple of days, but really not the type of excitement one is looking for.

On the up side. I have lost 3 lbs! On the downside, I know it is all water and will be back as soon as I start eating again. Which is another upside, come to think of it. Food has held no temptation for me. You could offer me homemade chocolate chip cookies and I'd take a pass. (And yes, Doralong, I am drinking lots of water. Thanks for the call last night, I'm all the better for it.)

But getting back to boring. Around 2 o'clock I decided if I spent another minute in the Ganome cave I would go stark raving mad. It's beautiful out, but I have been hard pressed to be tempted outside, since I didn't want to have to tell anyone why I was carrying a bucket around with me. I am not feeling 100%, but on the other hand, I am growing blessedly less familiar with every aspect of my bathroom, so I decided to take a little field trip to my new bank.

Like most people in the good old US of A, I have been the victim of a big commercial bank for the past few years. At one point, I had my money in a small bank. I really liked the bank and the people who worked there. I knew all of the tellers, the manager and the assistant manager and we were on a first name basis. On the rare occasions I had any problems or questions I could actually sit down with the folks there and figure out whether it was an error on my part or banking error. We came out about 50 50 on that, but the thing was I knew when it was an error on my part, it really was my mistake and there was no, "too bad about you, bank policy is that the bank does not make mistakes." Unfortunately, small bank got gobbled up by big bank the people at my branch were either let go, or transfered to other branches and that conveniently located branch was shut down.

I have been having some problems with big bank and the last straw was when they without ceremony changed my savings account from a minuscule amount of interest to a no interest account. I am not a company that needs a holding account, thanks.

After asking a couple of friends I decided to move my business to the same bank that La Simpatica and C. use.

It's a nice bank and I think it should work out. I am still in the process of setting up all of my automatic payments and it was to that end that I took my field trip.

When my account was set up, for some reason they had not set up my internet banking so that I could pay bills online. One of my favorite innovations of the past few years. So, feeling like I could make it back and forth without disgracing myself I set off for small bank. On my way, I even tried to do a good deed. 3 straight guys, who were obviously lost were poring over a street map and I stopped to ask if they needed any help. Being straight men, they of course let me know they were perfectly capable of getting hopelessly lost and did not need any help. We're men, we can read maps! (not)

I shrugged it off and went into my bank branch, where my future ex-husband is working.

The assistant branch manager, who I will call Mr.Dreamboat, set my account up for me. I call him Mr. Dreamboat because, well, he's a dreamboat. Bald, shaved head, big blue eyes with those thick black lashes that are like sable brushes, full sensuous mouth an aquiline nose that is a bit on the large size and ears that stick out slightly. He even has nice hands. Did I also mention the eyebrows. Nice eyebrows. Even my fellow eyebrow connoisseur, Mike would approve.

When he was setting up the account I had to keep picking the carpet lint off my tongue and try not to giggle or bat my eyes. And here he was now, ready to help me navigate my first hurdle with my new bank. He even remembered me.

Not that that was probably all that hard. How many middle aged, heavily tattooed midgets come into his branch. None the less, I had to suppress a girlish giggle.

Mr. Dreamboat it turns out is Mr. Helpful too. We got my issue with my internet access to my account straightened out and I was on my way in short order.

Okay. So it was a cheap thrill. But when you've spent 36 hours confined to the house and most of that time in the bathroom and you feel like something the cat dragged in, having a handsome man give you a little cheerful attention can really brighten your day.

And for the record, I ran into some other poor lost soul and offered to give him directions. He might have been straight but at least he wasn't brain dead. He cheerfully accepted my help and went merrily on his way with a thank you, secure in the knowledge that he was only 2 blocks away from his destination.

Maybe that's why Mr. Dreamboat is so nice. Sometimes being Mr. Helpful really makes you feel better.