Did some grocery shopping in the morning, finally remembering to bring my collapsible shopping cart. (That thirty-two dollar purchase is about the best I ever made, as I can now take one trip to and from the carport when I go to the supermarket, the laundry room, to discard trash, and so on.)
Ellen and I had made a date for her to come over, as it was Labor Day (Greg had to work) and she arrived at 12:30. After some chit-chat, we headed out for lunch, but couldn't decide where and eventually, headed to the harbor. Good grief, the whole area was jammed! Cars streamed down the roads, filled every lot, were parked bumper to bum along every street--it was a mad house, and away we drove. By that time, we were hungry, so went to Hawaiian BBQ in a shopping center. It was okay--fast food, I guess, but pretty tasty. Ellen mentioned she had had a blow-out across the way--hair, not tires!--and impulsively, we stopped in to the shop. Two stylists greeted us, El said she had to run an errand anyway and would come back, and a sweet-natured young woman washed and blew dry my hair.
It looks--well, it looks almost as if I had done it myself, which ain't no compliment, but it's okay, I guess.
By that time, it was after 4:00. I had to prepare my talk for this morning's info meeting at The Palms and needed to do a wash, so El and I said goodbye. I decided I just didn't feel like the laundry thing so late in the day, although I wanted to wear a certain pair of slacks. Just washed them in the sink and hung to dry--I can do the rest of my stuff later.
Pulled together my notes and things for my address to the residents, then went to get on my e-mail. What? It kept asking for my e-mail and password, I kept giving it, and it still wouldn't let me in. Frantic, I called Comcast and after the usual run-around, was told the account had been closed on July 15. Yes, I knew that, I had closed it because Comcast doesn't operate in California, but I had been able to access it a few hours before. Sometimes it takes a while to disconnect, I was told--I think they make these answers up--and if I knew anyone with Comcast, they add me to his or her account with no charge to anyone. Rep said we should set up a three-way call or person could call and inform them, then I should call to confirm. I promptly called Frank D., my next-door neighbor from Sweetwater, and he agreed to do it. In fact, he said he could do it himself without even calling Comcast, as he had added his wife, Barb--whew! So that was that, right? Why, no, read on:
A half hour later, I checked and there I was, right back in the Comcast fold. Elated, I shot off a message of gratitude to Frank before I went happily to bed. Found a return message from Frank when I got up just now, telling me he hadn't actually had a chance to do anything yet and was planning to this morning. So my Comcast account just magically reappeared.
Now, several years ago, I had "issues" (the English language is a victim of creeping corruption) with Comcast and comments from its corporate office in NYC would appear on this blog. Usually, they were apologies for whatever fresh hell to which I had been subjected. I used to be charmed and bemused that this giant company would bother to look around the web and write to placate disgruntled customers. I recall that one of those who wrote identified himself as Mark Casem--yes,he actually included his--I assume, real--name.
At this point, though, I'd love to hear an explanation of all this from Comcast. Are you there, Mark?
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