In Dreams

I awakened at 3:48 am in a cold sweat brought on by an anxiety dream about a friend’s blog. The friend posted about an friend of his who, he’d learned that day, was killed in a freak funeral-home accident, when she was pulled through what appeared to be a band saw, by the three-dimensional Quicktime VR of the decendent’s neatly halved corpse my dream visualized posted on my friend’s blog. Accompanying this extremely disturbing product of my slumbering mind was a video clip of the dead young woman, speaking about her relationship with her job at the funeral home.

How do you people stand living in your own skulls? I really don’t think I’m that different from most of you, but I fear and dread my own mind, my dreams, my body, and my soul. I’ve been insistently told that this is not how it has been for most of we language-using apes over the ages, but to my ear. the assertions ring falsely strident, carrying a kind of desperation which ultimately I find unconvincing.

Still, I would much rather not have had the experience above that I recount here as a result of reliving the memory involuntarily all day.

Fun Resoundingly Defeated

Excerpted early-return election numbers:

MONORAIL:

Endless gridlock: 28,821, 67%

Monorail: 14,143 32%

I voted for the light rail project for the first time in 1990. It was projected for completion in 1995. Do date, not one track has been laid, and the downtown bus tunnel, which opened that same year with rail built in, is closed, so that they can replace the railbed, as apparently train technology, that hotbed of innovation, has advanced so far in the intervening fifteen years that all-new rails are called for. Seattle is well-positioned to continue its’ settled course of becoming just like every other car-choked metropolis in the country. Pray for a crippling recession.

NO SMOKING ANYWHERE IN SEATTLE, EVER, THIS MEANS YOU, YES YOU:

Smoker = shiftless, no-good addict low-lifes: 483,823 63%

Don’t be so absurd: 277,107 36%

I challenge you to find a pleasant, pedestrian-oriented street which includes a non-thoroughfare location more than 25 feet from a door. I wonder, are pot-smokers bound by this nonsense? Also, don’t sit on the sidewalk, and if poor, please remain south of SeaTac, mmkay? Thx.

Not like I can’t understand the votes. The fools that blew through the Monorail money killed the project, no doubt there. And who can possibly defend smoking? It’s bad, bad for you, etc. Still, it’s legislating morality disguised as a public-health issue.

Rattus

On Saturday, Petr found a rat hiding in the closet of the new place.

On Sunday I set four traps.

On Tuesday, I found the rat, dead in the one I set by the furnace. The animal did not appear to suffer, as the trap bar landed directly across the brain pan. Happily, there was no mess, apart from the rat’s body.

However, there are little bits of rat poop through out the house now. Yick.

In other news, Qwest has finally completed the telephone services migration. Tomorrow, my ISP claims they will show up to configure the router. I’ll believe that when I see it.

disassembly

I took the whybark.com server apart tonight in anticipation of a physical move tomorrow. I expect to configure it Saturday. I sure hope the damn line is up.

Slogging through the bitmuck

Sigh.

On October 27, Qwest disconnected our phone and connected the new line, with a new number, at the new house. I moved the Qwest-provided router to the house and plugged it in, and the router illuminates to a state indicating connectivity.

On November 1, I called Qwest to get our old number restored in the new location. We had to wait until the new POTS number rang through in order to allow them to merely transfer the extant services rather than end and start anew, or so I was told. On November 2, I was told when I placed this second call, the old number would be effective in the new locale. Instead, the new line yields a “this number has been changed” message whilst the old number remains disconnected.

Today I was told that the old number will actually be restored on November 7.

Meanwhile, I placed a call to my ISP, which is not Qwest, and requested that they assign the IPs so that I can get my server online at the new house. I have now called them every morning for three days, and each time I get a different story about the expected delivery date and required actions from them to deliver the service. All I need from them is six IP addresses. They refuse to release these to me until a technician has made a site visit and configured a brand new, quite unnecessary, router.

This morning I was assured that the technician would be on site this afternoon, and that I would get a call from the technician when they were on site. I was hoping to intercept them and get the IPs directly in order to get the whole ridiculous mummery show over with on the sly. I don’t need or want a new router. I didn’t want or need the last new router. I believe that there must be some way to force the ISP to buy the Qwest-provided router from me. However, my intention is just to reconfigure the Qwest router to match their setup and swap it back so I can stick their junk on the shelf with ALL MY OTHER DAMN ROUTERS.

I have argued.

I have pleaded.

I have been reasonable.

I will call them once more in the morning. After that, I will no longer be reasonable or patient.

Downtime

For the first time in several days, I did not spend the immediate four hours after work at the new house. Doing so afforded me the following learning experiences:

The wine store remains out of stock on the Swiss white I hunger for since a teen, grown on the shores of Lake Geneva and dry as sandpaper.

I shall dearly miss our current abode, as despite transitory challenges f the neighborhood’s fortunes, it truly is the only home I’ve ever loved. Restoring the new place in the manner of a 1920s take on an 1880s stately home is clearly not something I have the stomach for. Goodbye, box beams.

I, personally, employ flexible and polar definitions of the terms “east” and “west.”

A neighbor at the apartment has a kindly open wifi node.

Love is a burning thing.

Our old telephone number, promised to be reactivated by today, remains disco.

doors

We’ve found yet another salvage store, this one much closer by than the other and offering a wider inventory selection and better prices to boot. We did not locate a used shop table yet, though.

I met our rear neighbor, who bought at about the same time we did. He’s about our age and will be living in the home with his elementary-aged daughter. He seemed sympatico and I look forward to getting to know him better.

Lawnmower man

Lawn: mowed.

Edging: started.

Contractor: engaged.

The contractor made great progress today, nearly completing the removal of the paneling. Viv worked on cleaning the shelves we puled from closets and cabinets throughout the house.

Treo 102905 006-1

The washer and dryer were delivered but we hit a snag when the leads to the hoses each leaked, in the valve. We had to figure out how to turn the water to the house off (as the gate valves leading to the leads also leaked when engaged), and ended turning it off at the street, since predictably enough the in-house master valve was not only broken-handled but flat-out broken.

I also confirmed that dial-tone is in the good phone jacks, and the DSL router confirms a good circuit, so I’m just waiting on my ISP to execute the move order.

An odd issue cropped up when I noticed survey marks labeled ‘TV’ running through my yard to the house in the rear, which which we share a driveway. The survey line runs down the interior edge of my side lawn and across a set of concrete stairs which would presumably need to be jackhammered to lay the conduit. I have heard, I think, that Seattle has an ordinance against new above-ground line services, and so this must be from my neighbor (who also just bought their house) calling for cable. Of course, I haven’t heard anyone asking for permission to dig up my yard. My inclination is that the line must be laid under the driveway, and not at my expense. The driveway is an exisisting easement, and probably will be more expensive to dig and repave. The main reason I want the cable run in the driveway is to enforce the easement, I think. I really don’t want neighbors or cable goons digging up my yard whenever, and if the service is restricted to the easement, we have existing legal documents covering access.

I also don’t really want to get off on the wrong foot with my new neighbor. So. It’s a bit of a delicate situation. Viv already pointed out to me that I come off as angry and defensive when discussing this, so I will need some practice or something. At the very least I need to determine if it is in fact a city thing that new cable runs must be underground. Because I would not care at all if they strung the cable from the existing service pole in the yard.