The Kvetch Thread

Endnotes. I'm editing the worst endnotes in the history of endnotes. I worked for hours yesterday and got two pages done. Hey, endnote writer, Ich hubse in drerd.

I'll finish up the endnote book today. Glory hallelujah. Before I could hiccup and heave a sigh of relief, another project is coming in. Editing. That makes two editing projects again.

I HATE editing on the computer. Love editing with a pencil in my hand. And I do a better job with a pencil. Sometimes technology sucks.

Glad to have the work. But it tires me out. Not a spring chicken anymore. Was I ever a spring chicken? I musta been.

Waited in all day for a next-day delivery parcel that didn't arrive - they say they couldn't find the house - they are eejits - now not arriving until Tuesday! I threw my toys out of the cot

Wrote to my camera lens supplier again asking for confirmation they had received the faulty lens (sent over a week ago Special Delivery) and asking how long to expect before I got a replacement or repair... got an email back saying "I can't possibly say how long it will take - that's like asking "how long is a bit of string".



I'm not going to reply as I think my Wilkinson Sword tongue will shred them, so I'm biting it right now. Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

Now, that's makes me wanna kvetch!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okeydokey - letting it go now

No problem.

Thanks!

Izzie, Not only was that an excellent kvetch, but I relate 100 percent to the reasons. Don't keep me waiting either.

You've got a Wilkinson Sword tongue? That's gotta smart.

Hey you delivery and camera lens people. GET IZZIE HER STUFF! Don't make me come after you!

So I finished the book with the worst end notes in the history of end notes. I took me more than an hour to edit one steenkin' page.

Now I'm editing a book that doesn't have lousy end notes. But it has many of them.

And I got a message from the editor of a book I'm going to be working on next. He told me that the end notes are a mess.

Thinking abouta sitdown strike against end notes. Problem is I'm sitting down all the time. How would anyone notice?

The events of the past two days have rendered me beyond the kvetch. Where is that? Don't know, don't give a flying dirty word.

No, I'm not going to ramble at great length about what's been going on. Suffice it to say that I hate computers, hate taxes, hate editing, and hate the lack of money.

Couldn't fall asleep. I was trying to think of something I could sell that's worth something and that I'm willing to part with. Snarl.

My apartment is on the eighth floor--eight stories above the ground. I'm sitting on the couch in my at-home shmatta. I'm trying to relax. Can't. Too much noise. Work is being done on the building. Noisy. I'm watching tv and drinking a soda. I glance over at the window and happen to notice a man out there, scraping my window sill. A shock to see someone strolling around so high up. Levitation? Probably a scaffold. He starts talking to another man I see at the far right of my window. Hey you guys. Stop socializing eight stories up. Finish your scraping and go home.

Beyond the kvetch:

I hate steps too.

Remember the two guys conversing outside my living room window eight stories up? They were back today. Only today they were conversing outside by bedroom window. The blinds were closed, but the two talkers woke me up!

I'm recovering from yesterday's beyond the kvetch events.

I love sour pickles. I'm not talking about dill or any other kind of pickle. I'm talking about SOUR.

I notice in my supermarket that there are sour pickles on sale. A brand I never heard of. I'm dubious that they're real sour pickles, but for under five bucks, I figure it's worth a try.

I'l know by the smell whether the pickles are sour or not. No need to taste them.

I get the pickles home and decide to open the container a take a whiff. This is a plastic container. There's a little tab that says, "Break." I broke. Nada. I pulled, poked, pushed, etc. No access to the pickles. Two knives and one saw later, I get the container open. Not real sour pickles.

My kvetch isn't about the nonsour pickles. My kvetch is about the steenkin' container. What kind of packaging is this? I needed two knives and a saw to access the pickles. What about people who don't have tools? Do they never get to find out that the pickles ain't sour?

The closest thing that I have found to the fabled "nickel pickle" are the Garlic Dills.

http://www.batampte.com/

I've been too busy working to come up with a good kvetch--or much of anything else lately.

Tomorrow I will be finished with both projects. I have some editing left to do. And end-of-project stuff like updating the TOCs and preparing style sheets.

Since the middle of March, I've edited over 1,000 pages--600 in the last three weeks.

And I've edited hundreds and hundreds of endnotes. Hate dem endnotes.

I'm getting too old and feeble for this crap. But I need the dinero.

The brickwork on my building continues. Noise beyond noise. Sleeping with earplugs. They don't help much.

Sigh. Having trouble working up a real snarl. Too old and feeble? Or too tired?

This is humiliating. A pathetic excuse for a kvetch. My apologies to one and all.

Even a mini kvetch is worth getting off your chest. Glad you checked in!

Money? You've been earning good money?

Hey, J. Never had a problem kvetching before. I'm undergoing cognitive therapy to help me worry less and to be less negative. Is it working? Quien sabe?

Deb, Yes, I'm earning money. It wouldn't be enough to live on alone, but with my Social Security, I'm OK. Of course I have to wait for the checks to arrive. I had a problem last month and used my money for this month to pay last month's bills. So I'm hoping things will even out before too long. I'm also paying off my rent arrears a little at a time.

You mean there's some other way for us old geezer semi-retirees to live?

Yes, Andy. Before I started collecting Social Security, I was late every month. Sold stuff to pay the bills. Begged and borrowed to pay the bills. I considered stealing. I thought if I was in prison, I'd get free medical benefits.

This is better.

BTW, I finished all my work--on schedule. A new project arrived today, a day early. Ain't gonna look at it until maybe Sunday. A goil's gotta lump.

Enjoy your lump day!

Lump is good.