Yet Another Sign I Am OK With The Fact That I'm Approaching 30

I think I am settling into responsible adulthood (not to be confused with on-my-own-but-living-in-a-dump-and-barely-surviving adulthood) a little too comfortably. Lately, I notice myself doing things my parents would do, and what's more, I don't even mind.

For example, I am blogging today about installing a new kitchen faucet. Oh yes, I find this interesting enough to write about.

A few weeks ago, my fiance decided he wanted a new kitchen faucet; the one we had sat kind of low, and it's a pain to wash big pots and things. He wanted one that sat a little higher, and I said while we're at it, we should also get one with a sprayer.

We spent an evening searching for that perfect faucet and finally found one we both liked. My fiance tried to install it the next day, and much to our mutual disappointment, the water filter we have -- which screws on the end of the faucet -- didn't fit.

We can't not use a water filter; our water tastes disgusting without it. So back out we went, with the filter in tow, to find one it would fit. We found one we both really liked and took it home, but when my fiance went to install it, he realized that it actually sits much lower than the old one did.

Determined not to end the evening without a new faucet, we immediately returned the one we'd bought and chose another, hoping the third time would be the charm. And it was. The new faucet looks lovely, fits perfectly and serves us fine, filtered water.

But it's things like this that make me realize just how much of a grownup I really am, because the only reason this feels like a sad way to spend an evening is because I didn't get to put on my sweatpants for an extra two hours.

Bear Down...Or Is It Hunker Down?

As anyone who has ever attempted to make "how 'bout them (insert sports team name here)" small talk with me knows, I don't really care about sports. At all. I have no interest in sports whatsoever and often find sports fans annoying.

Note: I don't discriminate there; I find most kinds of fans annoying. And while you may rightly say I am easily annoyed, don't even try to tell me that people are generally welcoming of fans of something they have no interest in. Old ladies screaming at an Elvis impersonator concert, those stupid teenagers on TRL (if that show is even on anymore), mulleted NASCAR-watching rednecks shouting "git r done!." All annoying. But I digress.

Despite my aversion to sports, I have to admit, I enjoyed living in Chicago when the White Sox won the World Series two years ago. I was also excited yesterday to watch the Bears beat the Saints to earn a trip to the Super Bowl. Alright, so I only watched the last two minutes of the game, but still. That's about as much as I watched of last year's Super Bowl. That's all I really need to see, honestly; I get to see the moment of victory, but I don't have to watch the actual game. (I watch a lot of TV like that -- I also tune into Trading Spaces in the last five minutes to see the before-and-after and the reactions, but I don't watch the actual work part of it).

But now I am most certainly going to have to watch the Super Bowl. It was appalling enough to people last year when I chose not to watch the Steelers, since I lived in Pittsburgh for the blink of an eye and should therefore be a huge fan, or something. But now it's the team in the town where I currently live, the team everyone I know is rooting for. And since Rex Grossman is the only NFL quarterback I can name, I guess that makes me more a fan of the Bears than any other team.

I like the idea of a Super Bowl party, for sure. There's always good food. But I found out the hard way that people get upset if you just come to eat and try to leave before the game starts. Some people like the commercials, but I don't really care about those. And since the average length of a Super Bowl game is approximately 400 hours, I get kinda bored.

So what am I going to do when Super Bowl Sunday rolls around? I imagine I'll be at some gathering or another; I've already been invited to one, but the invitation didn't say whether there would be chili dogs or cheese dip, so I'm not sure I want to chance it. Or maybe I'll just go shopping. The stores are bound to be empty during the game.

In any case, I'm rooting for the Bears. 'Cause I'm not even sure who the other team is.

Brown Has The Last Laugh

UPS did indeed send me a fruit basket.

They sent ME -- a person who never eats fruit unless it is part of a pie -- a basket of FRUIT!

I do appreciate the gesture, but I appreciate the irony even more.

What Brown Is Doing For Me Now

Apparently, the squeaky wheel does indeed get the grease.

Angry about the mess UPS made of my Christmas package from my mom, I wrote the company a letter detailing, and I quote, "the absolute worst customer service experience I have ever had with any company." The letter was as concise as I could make it, yet telling the story still took three pages. I even went so far as to enclose a copy of the tracking information, highlighted for their easy reference, and not very nicely demanded a refund for my mom, telling UPS to "please be sure to send it to the correct place this time."

I admit, I really laid into them. No mercy whatsoever. It had just been such a terrible experience that I thought the head honchos at UPS headquarters in Atlanta should know about it. Mostly I wanted to get it off my chest; I did not really expect a response, and I certainly didn't expect UPS to refund my mom's money, if for no other reason than the request had come from me and not her. (My mom was actually pretty forgiving about the whole thing: "You got the package eventually; what's the big deal?")

But surprise, surprise, last week, I got a voice message from a woman named Connie at the UPS distribution center in my area. I was almost afraid to return the call. My letter had been really nasty; I mean, I used the words "abhorrent" and "deplorable." When I did return the call, I felt the need to try to sound as sweet as I possibly could so that Connie wouldn't think I was a total bitch.

Anyway, she apologized profusely and promised that my mother would get her refund, and she told me that UPS is sending me "a little something special" for my trouble. I'm not sure what it is, but I'm hoping it's a little miniature truck or something. That would be cool.

So there you have it. You really can get results by putting your complaints in writing. I have to say, I'm impressed with how quickly and easily UPS owned up to causing a huge mess and took steps to appease me, particularly because the person complaining was not the person who actually paid for their service. I wonder if perhaps they have been losing a lot of business lately. Everyone I told about this incident immediately chimed in with, "oh yeah, UPS is terrible; I only use FedEx now."

In any case, I am satisfied with the outcome, unless, of course, my "special something" turns out to be a box of poisonous snakes, or a fruit basket. I'm not sure when I'll find out, though; according to Connie, it should have been delivered on Friday, and it has yet to show up.

I guess some things never change.

Thrifty Zoe

Some people will do anything to save a penny on gas.

Fuel is expensive these days; anyone who is even a little bit aware of current events can tell you that. Old folks tell stories of the days when a five dollar bill could fill your gas tank and buy you dinner, and even I can remember the days of 98 cents per gallon.

I'm sure that even back then, people shopped around for the best gas prices; why pay more than you have to for the same product? Nowadays, however, it's a necessity. Fueling our cars has become so expensive that companies like Shell and Citgo offer us credit cards to use to buy our gas. We shop for the lowest gas prices as a survival tactic now; what good is a full tank if you can't afford to go anywhere?

I'll admit, I got caught up in it for awhile. The first time gas prices went over $3 per gallon, I never stopped anywhere but the one place that had it for $2.99. Sometimes, I went out of my way to get there. Somehow, I felt the ten cents I saved was worth the dollar's worth I spent driving to the place.

Lately, though, I don't pay much attention to gas prices. Sure, I'll stop at the least expensive places in my area; that just makes good sense, but I don't drive out of my way to get there, and if the price goes down two cents per gallon a day after I fill up, I don't let it bother me. Sometimes you get a good price, sometimes you don't.

My car, however, apparently disagrees with this practice.

Zoe Zoom-Zoom, my 2002 Mazda Protege (yes, I named her, and she loves it), is a fantastic little automobile who has been with me since May 2003, about 75,000 miles ago. She's never let me down, but today, she made it known that she wants me to spend as little on gas as I can.

I was down to about a quarter tank, so I stopped at the gas station on the way to work. It was priced at $2.29 per gallon, which is about the lowest one can find in my regularly traveled area these days. I pulled the lever that opens the gas door, and it didn't pop open. Sometimes it sticks a little, but it's usually open enough to get my fingers in to open it completely. Not today.

I pulled the lever again, and...nothing. It was stuck, completely closed, and no amount of lever-pulling or prying could get the thing open. I stood there for 10 minutes, wind whipping my hair all around, alternately prying and pulling, all to no avail.

Defeated, I got back into my car and headed to work with plans to call the service department at the dealership where I bought Zoe, hoping they'd have some words of wisdom, or at least an open time slot when I could bring her in, hopefully soon, since a quarter tank doesn't last all that long.

When I got to the work parking lot, I tried again. This time, after a couple of pulls and no prying at all, the door opened completely. Even though I was already 15 minutes late, I made a quick trip to the gas station across the street, and I ended up paying a penny less per gallon than I would have at the first place.

Could it be that Zoe didn't want the gas at the first place? Did she purposely hold the gas door shut, knowing I would try to open it again when I got to work and end up getting a better price? Is it possible that, while I don't care much about the price of gas, Zoe does? It's as plausible an explanation as any, I think.

I don't know if I consider the annoying events of the morning worth the few nickels I saved. But Zoe seems happy with herself for helping me save money, so I guess in the future I should go out of my way to buy the cheapest gas to appease her.

My Grown-Up Kitchen

I like coffee. In fact, I love it.

Alright, I'm an addict, I'll admit it. I need a heavy dose of caffeine to get me going every morning, and I'm not ashamed to say it.

My fiance, however, is not a coffee drinker, and except for the weekends, I never drink my coffee at home; I always make it and take it to work with me. So I have a coffee maker that brews right into thermal travel mugs. I love it; it's so convenient, and there is less to clean at the end of the day.

It does present a problem, however, in the rare instances that I have company. My coffee maker only brews two travel mugs' worth at a time, and one travel mug doesn't even hold two standard mugs' worth. When my parents -- who, like me, want more than just one small mug of coffee in the morning -- came to visit in November, we had to run the thing two or three times every morning.

It was then that I decided I needed a regular coffee pot for those times when two travel mugs just won't do it. I am an adult now, and I want to pour my guests a cup of coffee from a pot, like an adult. Gone are the days when I'd just toss them a Pop Tart and one of those nasty bags that are like tea bags but with coffee in them. I want to be able to offer them homemade waffles and pour them a nice, hot cup of freshly brewed java from a real, grown up coffee pot.

I didn't want to spend a lot -- this is an appliance I'll use maybe once or twice a year, and there are so many other things that I need for everyday use. So when my friend Marla called me yesterday to tell me there was a certain brand of kitchen appliance on sale at Target for five dollars each, I knew I had to stop there on my way home to pick up a coffee pot, and possibly a waffle maker, because I don't actually have one of those either.

Well, they were out of the waffle maker, but I did get my coffee pot. As you can see from the photo below, my kitchen has finally grown up.

A Lesson In Parenting

Today at work, we were talking about parents and children out in public places (in addition to the whistler at Target yesterday, I encountered a kid at Ikea whining for 20 minutes straight, "I wanna go to Oberweis...I wanna go to Oberweis...I wanna go to Oberweis." And let me tell you, "Oberweis" sounds kind of whiny even just when spoken normally, so from a whiny kid, it's even worse).

My boss mentioned an incident in the grocery store years ago with her daughter that I mention here so I'll remember it when I have children. She always does her grocery shopping with a list and rarely ventures away from that list, and on this trip, they were cruising past the dairy case when her daughter piped up and asked, "do you think maybe sometime you can put chocolate milk on your list?"

She could have explained to her daughter that you are in fact allowed to pick up whatever you want at the store and don't have to write it down before going to be able to buy it. And she might have been tempted to, because it was probably pretty cute. But instead she just nodded and said, "yes, I suppose I could" and kept going.

Smart move. I'll bet that kid never made a scene in the middle of Ikea.

A Brief Note

I really don't want to turn this blog into "Erika's Ranting Place" but feel I must comment after an experience I had while out shopping today.

There's not much of a story, but the bottom line is, some people at Target just want to look at microwaves. I can't imagine many of them want to listen to another customer whistling while they look. I know I don't.