So today was a shitty day. It just started off stressful and then didn’t get much better. And then I moved cubes at work today, to a different floor, and I miss my old neighbors. And I’m PMSing so basically I’m just a ball of sadness.

I came home to watch TV and NOT eat my feelings. Because that doesn’t go well with my diet plan, nor my keep-my-pants-fitting plan. I did good! I had a salad, some of this chili that I made (MAKE IT NOW!) and a glass of milk. Then I had some bread and butter, since I was craving it, but it was reduced calorie bread and light butter.

So as I was making myself feel better about my life by watching Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, there was a knock at my door. I tried to ignore it, but I knew that they heard me in here, talking to the cats and watching TV. So I answered it, bra-less and clad in snowflake pajama pants. It was the new neighbor across the hall. She was letting me know her place got broken into and they took her laptop. She came home and her door was pried open.

Just great.

I let her know I didn’t hear anything out of the ordinary (which would be anything since I’ve been neighborless for months) (plus the cats jump like 10 feet in the air at any sudden noise) and told her I was sorry. She let me know the cops were on their way and I reminded her to call the property manager.

By the way, what is the etiquette for this? Should I have invited her in? Should I have offered to wait at her house with her? I’m sure I did it wrong, but I was BRA-LESS!

The cops came by to ask me some questions.

This set off a whole different string of worries – should I comb my hair, put on a bra, look presentable IN THE LEAST? I mean, what it if was some hot cop who was turned on by snowflake pajama pants? YOU NEVER KNOW.

They asked when I got home and then asked if I had heard anything. They took my name and number and I reminded them of the cameras we have in our lobby. They asked me like six times what time I got home. I told them 6:45, but I don’t really ever look at the clock. I mean, now I’m probably a suspect because not only do I not know what time I got home, I also didn’t hang out with the girl in the hallway when it happened!

So yeah. Now I will be “sleeping” with my pepperspray tonight and locking my bedroom door (Melissa!). And when I say “sleeping” I mean, staring at the dark ceiling of my bedroom for eight hours until the alarm goes off.

At least I’ll remember to take my middle-of-the-night antibiotic!

But then I wondered “why would I hear that same noise in the lobby and then THREE FLOORS UP in my bathroom?”

Coupled with this noise? A change in water pressure. It was insane. The pressure was intense, my showers felt like someone switched my showerhead with that elephant washer one that Kramer had on Seinfeld. Although, in good news, my showers happened in a blink of an eye.

At first I didn’t worry. Because eh, who is really going to complain about better water pressure? Plus, I figured I’d just let someone else worry about it. Then I remembered that I own my place now. There is no landlord to fix things. If my pipes were to explode, I’d not only have a lake in my living room, I’d also have to fix it myself! And hope the cats didn’t drown!

So I did what any normal person would do, I watched this video:

Thankfully the mysterious whirring noise has stopped. The property managers were made aware and now all is well in Kristabellikstan.

And it wasn’t a pipe bomb.

I know what you’re all thinking – “Wow, she decides to start blogging regularly again and keeps it up for like a week. YAWN.”

But! I have an excuse! Of course I do! The cat puked on my laptop! (Actually, that really happened. And thankfully it did no damage. Stupid cat.)

Actually, my internet at home is not working. This has been happening, off and on, for a week or so. I have tried everything I could think of to fix this issue – resetting the router, using a cable to connect directly to the modem, praying to the Internet Gods – NOTHING WORKS! Actually, the wire did work for like a day and then just stopped working. But my sister is in the room with the modem and the wire, and I was nice enough to let her use the interweb before me. I’m a good landlord like that.

See, the problem is that my condo building switched to a local internet company last year. They supply the whole building and we get some sort of deal and all that jazz. (WHEN IT WORKS!) I haven’t really been impressed with their service at all. I had an issue late last year where my wireless router stopped working. I called them to get them to help me fix it and they couldn’t. And since they only send out technicians during the HOURS I AM WORKING, I fixed it myself by routing the non-working router through my one working router and VIOLA! Internet for all!

I had to call them again this week with this whole “non-working” issue. There seemed to be some issues building-wide last week (according to the flutter of activity on the condo message board). This was when I was attending a sales meeting all week and home just enough to sleep each night. So apparently a technician came out at 2 PM on a Thursday to get it fixed. Which works if you don’t have an office job or a job at all. I, on the other hand, was sitting in said sales meeting.

Fast forward to Monday and the damn thing just totally quits on me. I call this stupid company and I spend like 30 minutes on the phone with a guy who is all “I don’t see your address in our system. Are you sure you have service with us?” (UGH. Not a good start. At all.)

He is useless over the phone and puts in a ticket for someone to call me. Someone FINALLY calls – on Wednesday afternoon. ALMOST TWO DAYS LATER! And they inform me they can only come during the hours of 8-5, you know, the hours when I’m required to be WORKING IN AN OFFICE. THAT IS NOT IN MY HOME!

I made an appointment for Thursday morning. I hope I don’t end up having to be too late to the office. See, I could bring my laptop home with me to work from home, but that would require being able to CONNECT TO THE INTERNET! You know, the internet I PAY FOR!

And on top of it, I sent a note to our property management company to see how to cancel service with this company so I can go back to AT&T. And I have yet to hear back from them. Since they brokered the deal and I pay my internet through my assessments, I have to make sure they are aware. Why have they not answered my email??

I AM JUST SURROUNDED BY GOOD CUSTOMER SERVICE EVERYWHERE!

*head explodes*

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In other news, at Food Lush this week I wrote about the fantastic pie I made for Thanksgiving.

Also, March Madness starts Thursday! Don’t forget to fill out your brackets! And if you want to compete in a pool for FREE, go join our group from Draft Day Suit. No cost to enter, but Yahoo is giving away fabulous prizes!

But then the squealing didn’t stop. The kid was apparently running up and down the hall, screaming and yelling and just enjoying himself. I figured he was waiting for one of the parents to catch up with him and then he was going to go in the elevator and the noise, it would stop.

I was not so lucky. Because apparently the neighbors decided that it was too much effort to let their kid go play outside, even though it was not snowing or raining or sleeting outside. I mean, it is winter, so it wasn’t warm, but it was fine enough to have the kid go to the park or run on the sidewalk and NOT in the hallway outside my living room.

So I did what any normal person did, I went to Twitter to complain.

And then I asked the Twitter parents if this was something they would allow their kid to do. The consensus was a resounding NO. And look, I know kids need to burn off energy. If there were three feet of snow outside and no way for this kid to run around, I would be OK with it. But that was NOT THE CASE.

After 30 minutes, I just got mad. And instead of saying something to them, I just decided to make passive aggressive comments, loudly, from my couch, hoping they would hear. And turned up the TV and hoped that the little tyke was outside my door when Deb Morgan when off on one of her motherfucking, curse-laden tirades.

And even after that didn’t help, shockingly, I made idle threats to Twitter and Facebook about punching my neighbor in the throat and promising to blast my loud rap music at midnight that night, complete with explicit lyrics.

In reality, all it did was piss me off and force me to get off my ass and get dressed and go to the grocery store. So there’s that.

But still. A condo building hallway is no place for your kid to play soccer. Our front doors aren’t soundproof. I can hear it ALL. It’s annoying! Especially when I want to relax on the weekend. And what if I was trying to sleep off a hangover? It’s not just you and your kid that live in this building, people!

The next time it happens, I will take action. Or not. Let’s be honest, I will be doing the same damn thing.

Please leave a message and I will get back to you as soon as hot water is no longer a novelty.

Remember last week? When I so stupidly thought it was just an unlit pilot light and that I had fixed the problem? Well hoo boy was I wrong. Because it? Still isn’t working!

GAH!

I called them out on Saturday to look at it, after I noticed that while I could light it, there was only lukewarm water hours later. So then I became that girl, on her belly in the hallway of her condo, staring at a one-inch window on the bottom of a water heater, looking at a flame. A flame that WOULD NOT STAY LIT!

So the dude came, four hours late mind you, and it started! And he’s like “it’s fine! Don’t call tomorrow if it goes out! Just kidding! Not really, I don’t want to work tomorrow.” NO! Really! HE SAID THAT! And it was lit and heating up water and I was like “OK, dude, now get the fuck out so I can shower this stank off me.”

I got cocky and overjoyed at my hot water and all the possibilities! Running the dishwasher! Doing laundry! Taking a hot, hot bath!

And in those 10 minutes of cockiness, the stupid pilot light went out. And I couldn’t get it to re-light. So I decided the only thing to do was to drink a whole bottle of Tempranillo. It wouldn’t help with the smell, but it would make me feel better.

I finally sucked it up and took a shower at the gym on Sunday. I don’t like showering in public places, and my gym is not that fancy, but it has warm water, so it was fine. Well, it was more than fine. Being clean was GLORIOUS!

I figured that I would work from home on Monday, the plumbers would be less busy and bam! I would have hot water by the end of the working day!

But again, that fucking water heater reminded me what a formidable opponent he was. Because he wasn’t going down easy.

The plumber got here around 1 PM. He replaced a part (the thermocouple, which is what everyone thought was wrong with the water heater), the thing started up, it stayed on for more than 10 minutes and we called the project complete. He left and said they would mail me a bill.

I AGAIN rejoiced (BECAUSE I AM A SLOW LEARNER) and figured I would have a really nice shower at the end of my work day.

“Not so fast,” said the water heater.

Because my life has been all water heater, all the time since last Thursday, I am officially obsessed. I am constantly listening for the burner to turn on and constantly pulling open the little door to look for a flame. I’m not sure what it actually looks like when it is working properly, because every time I look for a flame, THERE ISN’T ONE!

I called the plumber back and left a message. And then two hours later, I left another message. And tomorrow morning at 7 AM, I plan to call and leave another message. Because, fuck it. This water heater is broken. Just put a new one in. I Googled all of this and basically some part is probably broken on the gas valve. And that costs as much as a new water heater. So let’s cut our losses, water heater. You win. And now, I’m going to kick your ass to the curb.

You may be a worthy opponent, but this is MY HOUSE and I always win in my house.

I hadn’t expected to not blog until the 6th of the month, but here we are. Why is the beginning of the new year so hectic? Is it because for the weeks prior to Jan 1, I tend to spend time doing nothing but watching TV, eating cookies and burritos and playing Diner Dash until my phone dies? And then all of a sudden I flip the calendar and I’m expected to be productive again during my waking hours? What the damn fuck, world? That is a lot to ask!

Anyway, on top of this week being busy and having to work a whole five days in a row, I had plans after work two nights this week. Look at me! Social butterfly in 2011! Not getting my typical 10 hours of sleep a night! Who is this 2011 version of Kristabella?

Well, I know one thing. She won’t be able to keep it up for too long. But she is enjoying it while her 33-year old self can!

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In other news, my hot water heater broke this morning. I got up, late of course because I forgot about an early meeting I needed to be at work for, and then brushed my teeth, turned on the shower, got in and froze my ass off. I had been noticing lately that it wasn’t getting as warm as normal and I had to turn it on hotter. But I figured that was typical for this time of year when it is freezing in my house.

But this morning, I had the faucet turned as hot as it would go and it was not warm. At all. So I jumped out of the shower, naked and dripping and decided to look at the hot water heater. And then I saw this huge panel of directions that made no sense after just having woken up and not having any coffee yet. I think I pushed a button and then figured “hey, dumbass! Don’t mess with gas! Just get dressed and get to work for your meeting! You can figure it out later.” Sometimes my self can be so smart. And bossy.

So I turned it all off so it wasn’t leaking gas, washed my face and jumped in a cold shower for like 2 minutes, got dressed and went to work.

When I got home tonight, I noticed the pilot light was out. I was hoping that was all it would be. So I put on my thinking cap (after changing into my “working” clothes, AKA my pajamas), and read the lengthy instructions very slowly. I apparently did everything right and didn’t blow up the house because I now have hot water! Huzzah!

And according to a friend on Facebook, these kinds of things tend to happen when your hot water heater is around a lot of dust bunnies/cat hair. And seeing as my water heater is in a closet I never go in, that kind of explains the problem. Great. One more place to forget to vacuum.

I can’t wait to take a shower in the morning!

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Finally, I told you all that I started writing over at Food Lush, yes? Well, if I didn’t, hey! I started writing over at Food Lush.

This week I wrote a post about how I was afraid to cook shrimp. And asked the readers for help and also for yummy recipes. They are amazing readers and totally calmed my fears! And had good recipes to share to boot!

Their comments helped, as I came home Tuesday evening and attempted to cook this recipe. And I did! And it turned out so yummy! And I cooked shrimp! I am QUEEN OF THE CUISINE!

Seriously people, it was a good dish! Go make it! Don’t be afraid of sea creatures! Learn from me! #themoreyouknow

See, my mortgage payment was increased over the summer. I needed to put more in each month to cover my escrow and my property taxes. And it wasn’t just a little bit more, it was quite a bit more. At first it was fine. And then a few months later, I was really struggling.

But then, I got my property tax bill. And I realized that all that money I had to pay last year for a special assessment was paying off – my property taxes went down. A LOT. So the amount of money I was paying each month to build up my escrow? TOO MUCH!

SWEET RELIEF!

Because I’m a NOOB when it comes to any of these adult kind of mortgagey manners, I figured you could just call your mortgage company and be all “look ass rapers, I’m not paying all this money into my escrow account, OK? Change my payment amount, bitches! Or else!”

Can you believe it doesn’t work like that at all? Apparently there are some not-so-honest people out there who will tell those kind of lies to like, get out of paying bills? Who are these hooligans?

So I called my mortgage company, expecting them to take my side seeing as I am honest and pay my bill on time and because HELLO, people are foreclosing left and right! I’m just asking to pay a couple hundred dollars less per month! And that won’t effect my principal or your interest!

Turns out they really research these things. And thankfully, I had just received my tax bill so I had PROOF! Written, documented proof from the county that the amount my mortgage company THOUGHT I should pay in taxes was not even close to the same amount that I HAD to pay in taxes.

So we opened a work order and they evaluated it. And I have been waiting on pins and needles every day since to find out the outcome.

That day came tonight. And it was EXACTLY what I needed to hear! They are lowering my payment! AND I get a check for the extra amount that is in my escrow account currently. MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME!

So clearly when I found out the news, I did what every other adult would do – I texted my mom, did a cartwheel and opened a bottle of wine.

C-A-B-E-R-N-E-T spells R-E-L-I-E-F.

See, last week I was talking about this with my friend, as she mentioned she knows EXACTLY what she’ll do if there was an intruder and she needed to protect herself and escape. And it came down to jamming something in front of her ALREADY CLOSED bedroom door. And then I commented that I sleep with the door WIDE OPEN!

I remember hearing on some talk show YEARS ago that sleeping with the door closed was the safest thing to do, especially in the case of a fire. And for some reason, I have filed this away in my head as useful knowledge, but not knowledge I choose to actually use.

See, I have two cats. Two cats that really like to sleep with me. So my door stays open. Sometimes, when they piss me off with their antics at 3 AM, I lock them out. And then I turn on the fan to high so I can’t hear them scratch at the door because they want to be let in.

I would do this every night, see, except I feel bad. I’m never home and if I left them to their own devices in the house all night, I would wake up to chaos. And a lot of puke, I’d imagine.

So the door stays open. In fact, in the spring and fall when the windows are wide open, I even sleep with a door stop in front of the door so the wind doesn’t slam it close in the middle of the night.

This is probably not safe, right? I mean, after talking to my friend, I’m pretty sure I was convinced some person was going to sneak into my house and stab me to death because hey! open door means open invitation, yes?

My old apartment was all wood floors. And they were old wood floors and very creaky. I didn’t worry about anything happening in that place because A) I would hear even one step from a burglar and B) if you wanted to climb up all those stairs, I’m pretty sure I would have an edge on your winded self. My plan then was to just grab the phone and call 911. (Which, not really a good plan.)

I have no plan now. If someone were to break in, the front door is rather close to my bedroom door. I wouldn’t have time to do much of anything. So maybe I should start closing the cats in with me at night? Locking them out? Putting a hammer or crowbar next to my bed?

What say you, blog readers? Want to buy me an alarm system? Or at least a crowbar? Is it time to buy a second thing of pepper spray for my nightstand?

My weekend was pretty uneventful, just like I like them. Just relaxing enough to make me really wish I had a few more days off to do all the errands I planned to do this weekend.

There was a running theme this weekend – I am old.

Friday, I went to the Cubs game with my mom and they lost, badly. So I drank beer and made sure my drunk mom didn’t fall (I failed at that when I convinced her to climb over the seats at Wrigley) and that she didn’t get left behind at Sluggers (WIN!). We came back to my place while it was still light out. We napped and watched TV  and ordered pizza for dinner. I think the plan was to rally, but we were both in bed early. Like before 11 PM. And I was sober. (Mom, not so much.)

Mom stayed over Friday night, so on Saturday I took her home because her and Gram had chores for me. I did my chores, we went to Target and then my Grandma told me she would pray for me at church. And that I should go with her because there is a tall guy she sees every Saturday. And she would hook me up with her friend’s grandson, but she found out that he doesn’t like to drink or go out to bars and Gram was all “Oh, then he’s totally the wrong guy for Kris!” (I tried to deny it, but what’s the point?)

I finally went home and got ready for the Hawks game that night. The plan was to have a beer at my friend Melissa’s house before we headed out to the bars and well, we ended up staying for the whole game because it was less crowded and there were no drunk douchebags at Melissa’s, besides myself.

My friend Ang made the trek into the city from the burbs with a friend of hers from MN, so we went out after the game ended. We met Ang’s sister and her boyfriend out and then I proceeded to attempt to flirt with the bartender. I knew he was too young, but her was cute! And I was drunk! And the Hawks won!

He looked like Matthew Lillard. Not as weird looking, but he could have won a look-alike contest. Except, this was the WRONG thing to tell him. He HATES Matthew Lillard. (I didn’t realize people had such strong feelings for Matthew Lillard.) I tried to make conversation and everything came out of my mouth I regretted as soon as it I said it. It was the worst display of flirting ever! It was like those people on that reality show with that magic guy. You know, this guy:

Mystery, Magic, same thing.

We ended up leaving that bar before I made more of an ass of myself and I wouldn’t be able to ever come back. We went down the street and met a bunch of weird, shady douchebags, so we didn’t even finish our beers and took off.

Sunday I did nothing. I only left the house to get dinner because it was hot as balls out. So I caught up on Glee and napped and went to bed at like 10:30 PM. Apparently my body was like “We do not stay up this late on Sundays, lady!”

Today was another momentous day for my old-lady self. I read my book on the couch, napped and wrote out my grocery list. I finally got a bug up my ass to finally switch TV stands. So I moved the TV and other items from the entertainment center to my new TV stand. And in the process I forgot I’m almost 33 and not 18 and that TVs and furniture are heavy. And so I tweaked my back, AGAIN. So basically I’ve spent the rest of Sunday admiring my new TV stand in use, not moving very much, so as not to anger my lower back. (I did go grocery shopping, which was stupid because I think I just made it worse.)

Who knew the iPhone could capture such good photos of 90210 on TV?

(Speaking of the OG 90210, my youngest half-sister is going to be 18. She went to prom in what looked to be Brandon Walsh’s replica old Mustang. So I commented on the photo, making myself laugh out loud, wondering if she went to prom with Brandon Walsh. And if Cindy and Jim were around. And then I laughed and laughed! I never heard back from her, so when I saw her recently, she’s all “I don’t know who that is.” And then I died. Of old age. The end.)

So now I’m going to apply some Ben Gay, drink some Mylanta and put on my house coat and slippers and head to bed. And all other things I imagine old people do.

How was your long weekend? When is the next one??