Expectation versus Reality
A riveting week of unexpected plot twists...
For this second quarter of May, I thought we'd change things up and step through the week day-by-day while examining the knack this universe seems to have for false advertising, goalpost-moving, and other chicanery.
Ready?
Go!
Wednesday the 8th
Expectation
Athennia finally had a long-overdue performance review at work back in March and received gushing praise from her boss—whose only complaint (amidst all his compliments about her abilities and the consistent quality of her work no matter what project they assign her) was that she's too efficient and gets things completed too damn fast.
But, despite it allegedly being a relatively dismal year for the company, he said she was receiving one of the largest raises... and that it would go into effect sometime in April.
Reality
...Of course, we were headed into the second week of May now; so, at least half of that statement turned out to have been a lie. But, Athennia finally got some results on Wednesday morning and found out she had received a 4% raise that was going into effect starting with the paycheck she would receive the next day.
However, in talking with one of her colleagues whose abilities and work ethic she holds in equal regard to her own, she found out that he had only received a 1% raise; so, we were happy to discover that her boss had not bullshitted her as far as that part of their conversation: It seems that she did indeed receive one of the highest raises.
Congratulations, Kitten :) It was long overdue!
Expectation
But that wasn't Wednesday's only excitement...
Riley asked if I could help her on the final project she had to complete for her math class: helping the owner of a pizzeria make sense of his grocery list, find out whether he was within his budget in purchasing ingredients, and measure the area of his restaurant so he could bring in some new furniture.
God, you're as bad as the farmer who can't figure out how to fence off a rectangle for a chicken coop: We're all just supposed to pretend we have any faith at all that a dude of that caliber has a real shot at keeping livestock alive?
Anyway, my expectation was that the teacher—being the teacher—would have an IQ greater than that of a basketball.
Reality
Boy, was I disappointed...
Where do I even start with this?
Like, I'm pretty sure the plural of potato has an E in it...
...But that's nothing next to the fact that the instructions specify that each blank space is worth .25 points, for a total of 7 points—even though I only see 14 spaces, which would be 3.5 points by my count... though I'm no teacher.
...Then, she's got costs and weights that are going to yield values going into fractions of a cent... like 25 pounds of onions at $10.65, which comes out to $0.426 a pound—which, yeah, a cash register can handle without an issue. But that's going to confuse a lot of middle-school kids who won't be able to visualize a fraction of a cent, because most of us don't think in fractions of a cent in our everyday use of currency.
The whole thing was just stupid all around; and so, it was hardly a surprise when we got to this...
If only teachers would also check their work before sumbiting, too.
But, we sum-bitted that sumbitch and did indeed move on to Part 2.
And, it couldn't be any worse than Part 1; right?
Wrong.
See, the last thing we had done in Part 1 was to use this diagram to measure the area of the restaurant...
No, wait; sorry: I said restaurant; didn't I? My mistake.
I meant restuarant—since that's what the teacher asked for.
But, whatever. No problem. Most of this was just calculating the areas of various rectangles (length times width, for those who forgot) and adding them all together—with a bit of extra work to split the L-shaped kitchen into two rectangles and extrapolate the height of the lower one by using known lengths of other portions of the building.
The teacher's arbitrary measurements were nonsensical to me: For example, why is the restroom marked as 1.2 inches tall if it appears to take up roughly a third of the 6-inch wall on the right? Shouldn't it be closer to 2 inches?
That had no bearing on our ability to complete the project though—and Riley certainly didn't care, as long as she got a passing grade—so I let it go.
But then in Part 2, we were supposed to use this same 1 inch = 12 feet scale to measure various chairs, booths, and tables... and, I have to assume that the teacher must have constructed this part of the assignment some significant amount of time after she had created the first part—and so she must not have been thinking of keeping things within that scale (?)
So, she was hitting us with things like "a table is 113 inches long on the diagram. How long is it really?"
And I just kept looking at Riley in disbelief...
...That's like a quarter of a mile.
...That's probably from here to the Sunoco.
That's one hell of a table, in one hell of a pizzeria.
Are you sure you don't want to email her and ask her if we're supposed to be using some other scale that she just forgot to include on one of these slides somewhere?
Thursday the 9th
Expectation
I knew Athennia was planning to work a bit late on Thursday to help offset the amount of personal time she'd need to use taking off Friday. But she was still planning on preparing pesto chicken for dinner when she got home.
Reality
She ended up pulling an 11-hour day (not including an hour commute each way!) and surprised me and Riley with Qdoba and McDonald's instead.
Also, her uncle Kevin—not exactly known for his mild manners over the past two years—left her a polite voicemail explaining that her uncle Oscar was worried that she had stopped returning his calls. Kevin also wanted to ask if Athennia would be willing to meet him somewhere to give him a copy of the last-known notarized version of Lou's will, because the time seemed to be coming when he (as power of attorney) would have to start making medical decisions for her, and Athennia was apparently the only one who had a copy of the will at the ready.
So, she called him back after dinner and said she could meet him at Lou's trailer sometime the next afternoon.
Friday the 10th
Expectation
Taylor needed a ride to the last of the periodic in-person events for her manufacturing class—for which Lou had been driving her up to Allentown for the majority of the schoolyear.
But of course, Lou has been bouncing between the hospital and a nursing home for more than a month now; and so Taylor had asked if Athennia could burn a vacation day at work to drive her instead.
Only...
Reality
...this time it was the award ceremony, where Taylor would be presented a certificate of completion for the course. And it wasn't just 75 miles away in Allentown... it was more than twice that far away, all the way up in Williamsport!
On the bright side, Taylor lucked out in having to ask Athennia to drive: Neither Athennia nor I think that Lou would have had any chance of making the trip to Williamsport, let alone finding the actual place where Taylor needed to go.
But, they got a few cool shots along the way...
...and they made it there and back safely.
Saturday the 11th
Expectation
Contrary to apparent popular belief around here, we actually don't live in a sewer, a garbage can, or a truck depot... and, for some reason, I keep expecting to look out my window one of these days and see that fact reflected somehow.
Reality
Yet, 99% of the people around here continue to insist on being... well, trashy turds.
And the number of illegally-parked big rigs on the street behind us has risen from one to two in recent weeks. (For months, it was just a red one; but there has been a white one here for the last five or six days now as well.)
So, after putting up with a week of the guy loudly coming and going at all hours of the day and night, and idling for upwards of 45 minutes at a time some mornings (such that all the fumes come right through the fan in our bedroom window), I finally reached the point on Saturday afternoon that I decided to cave and call the police—prompted largely by the fact that I saw a handful of small kids actually playing on and under the truck itself.
Here are two girls jumping around on it...
...And a boy crying from somewhere so far under it that you can't even see him...
...Then the boy finally emerges (around the 25-second mark)...
...But I had by then already called the non-emergency line and reported the incident to the police—who showed up in about 15 minutes...
...which led to an entirely new round of Expectation vs. Reality...
Expectation
I really thought the cop would agree with me on a number of points:
- this was dangerous for the kids to be doing, because they could easily hurt themselves in all kinds of ways—or be put into danger if the owner of the truck were to come out and drive away without realizing they were under his truck
- this was equally dangerous to the owner, because who knows what damage those kids might do on any kind of timeline (e.g. ripping out cables or hoses from the back of the truck because they see the thing as their own personal playground instead of someone else's expensive property)
- and finally, why is there a big rig parked on a residential street anyway? Aren't there rules against that sort of thing, for precisely the reasons outlined above?
Reality
Nope. Apparently not.
The sunlight was too bright for me to show him these videos when I went down to talk to him, and he said that an officer wouldn't really make a big deal out of this truck the way they would if it were "like a box truck or something."
That's nothing. It's not nearly as loud, nor nearly as stinky, and the kids wouldn't even be able to jump around on it.
That makes no sense to me at all.
But, he just ended up walking over to the kids to give them a friendly talking-to—and then literally high-fived all of them as he left.
Next time I'll just sit here quietly and let them split their heads open or get pancaked under the tires.
After my unproductive interaction with the police, Athennia and I got in the car to head out to Green Lane and look at a mobile home we'd found on Zillow that looked like it had the potential to be a less-than-ideal-but-still-slightly-better-than-the apartment in-between to let us get closer to Athennia's job and bridge the gap between being stuck here in L'il Trenton and eventually getting a nice piece of property in the countryside somewhere.
Buckle your seatbelt, because this was quite a ride.
This guy's mailbox is gonna have a gallbladder attack.
...But then we arrived at our destination.
Expectation
The photos in the property listing looked like this...
Pretty sweet; right?
We'd beaten Angel out to Green Lane by about 20 minutes; so, with some time to kill, I spotted the neighbor taking her clothes down off the line across the street and decided that Kitten and I should go say hello.
The woman introduced herself as Betsy and was probably around our parents' age. Super friendly. Happy to chat. Told us all about how quiet the community was, and how everyone on the street knows each other by name.
It was really looking good! There were no stray thugs wandering around—and not even a guardrail to serve as a rallying point! Kitten and I felt like this could be the place for us for a year or two.
It looked like some storm clouds were rolling in then; and I told Betsy I'd hate for us to be the reason she and her laundry got caught in the rain. And Kitten and I headed back over to walk the exterior of the home until Angel arrived to let us inside.
Reality
And...
Well...
Let's just say, the longer we stared, the more we saw the perfection chipping away.
Brody had advised me to look for the data plate—which he said is typically under one of the sinks—but all I managed to find was this little metal plaque that said "see data plate" at the bottom.
There were no broken windows currently; but we felt like a pile of glass was probably a bad sign: If the owner couldn't be bothered to clean that up, what else could she not be bothered to clean up or fix?
The skirting was in terrible shape: No way there weren't squirrels, mice, and God knows what else getting in there anytime they wanted...
And was that... condensation on the inside of the back-door glass? Yikes.
The gutters were almost attached to the house...
More condensation, on the bay window...
Suspicious hole in the ceiling... and a water heater for ants? (I've seen D-batteries bigger than this thing.)
And the icing on the cake? Brody advised us to check the integrity of the vapor barrier under the home.
There just... doesn't seem to be one at all.
The only thing between the inside and the ground below was some steel mesh...
There were so many other issues that I thought Kitten got pictures of; but I guess we were both too underwhelmed to bother by that point:
- they'd installed the washer and dryer before repainting, so the wall behind the appliances just had this large section of the previous color where they couldn't reach with their rollers
- the kitchen counters and cabinets weren't level
- in the bathroom, they painted over the old wallpaper; so the result was these textured strips that felt like the grooves on the side of the highway that you hit if you veer too far out of your lane
- and the bedroom that would have been Riley's probably wasn't even 7ft x 7ft; so, she would have had to choose between do you want a bed in here, or do you want to be able to close your door? You can't do both.
And of course, I never did locate the data plate. My guess is that someone probably painted over it like they did everything else.
Or maybe it was at the bottom of that pile of glass.
My plan had been to reach out to my buddy Lee who lives about five minutes away in Pennsburg to see about meeting for dinner; but Kitten and I were so jaded by the time we walked out of there that I forgot all about that.
When we got back into Bucks County and kinda-sorta close to home, we were craving food and decided to treat ourselves to an unplanned date night.
I hadn't been to the Richboro Pub in probably 20 years, but I remembered the food being decent; so I suggested we stop in and give it a try.
Expectation
I ordered a burger. Kitten ordered some kind of loaded nachos. And we eagerly awaited at least one thing today that was unlikely to disappoint: run-of-the-mill pub food that's pretty hard to screw up.
Reality
But our waitress was some ditzy high-school girl who only came to the table once every 15 minutes or so...
And so, when my medium-well burger came out so red and bloody that I wasn't even sure it was cooked enough to safely eat, I crossed my fingers and prayed that I wouldn't be puking up parasites for the next two months.
My French fries were nasty too... either overdone or cooked in old oil. I actually thought they were sweet-potato fries when the waitress first set them down.
Athennia's nachos looked pretty spot-on though.
How are they, Kitten?
She shrugged and invited me to try one.
And, this spray cheese? Wow. Haven't tasted anything quite like that since the cafeteria nachos back in high school.
So yes, these are hands down the worst nachos I've ever had.
I couldn't have called it as we walked in; but as we walked out I could confidently say that we will never again set foot in the Richboro Pub as long as we live.
Sunday the 12th
Expectation
Sunday was Mother's Day... and my expectation was that, since my family hates having their picture taken and does everything they can to avoid it, I'd probably end up with a bunch of pictures of my sister's family instead.
Reality
For once, reality unfolded pretty much exactly as I thought it would—although I did manage to sneak a few pictures of Riley...
In return for Liv teaching Riley how to read, Riley taught Liv how to sabotage the shot when someone tries to take your picture...
A very happy Mother's Day to Steve in particular...
Then we ordered dinner from Taormina's; and for dessert, Riley baked chocolate-chip cookies and Kelly and Steve brought ice cream.
And I'm pretty sure this crouton in Athennia's salad probably set a new world record for largest crouton ever...
Look at that absolute monster!
Can we just hollow that thing out and move into that?
Kitten and I forgot to take pictures of the beautiful bouquets she made from scratch for my mom and my sister. But we got my mom to snap a few and send them to us the next day...
Sadly these will die soon unless my mom remembers to water them.
That's why the kids and I played it smart and got Athennia flowers that will live forever—as long as she doesn't water them...
...along with her favorite lilac body wash and a card that gave the kids lots of room to write and draw their mom some heartfelt artwork :)
Wednesday the 15th
Skipping a few days of uneventful afternoons and evenings filled with helping Taylor factor increasingly-complex polynomials, we arrived at Wednesday...
Expectation
We figured we wouldn't be likely to receive any further contact from Athennia's immediate family, since she had cut them all off again.
Reality
Athennia got a voicemail from her uncle Oscar (usually the calmer one between himself and uncle Kevin), in which he jumped down her throat for not having called her mother on Mother's Day.
Then he concluded his tirade by telling her, "You're selfish and immature, just like your sister."
But she said she wants to wait until Taylor has moved out of Lou's trailer and is no longer hanging in the balance.
But yeah... Fuck you, chief. Forever. And I hope for your sake that you and I never have to meet face to face.
For Taylor's part, she was in an exceptionally whiny mood Wednesday evening: Apparently packing the contents of an 8ft x 8ft bedroom while completing the final weeks of high school is just... the Hardest Thing EverTM.
(...and has been for probably two solid months now. Yes, really.)
She asked if Athennia would be able to drive her (and her two cats, and her ferret, and all her stuff) up to Connecticut next month if her girlfriend were to pay for it.
But that's precisely the kind of thing that doesn't occur to someone who isn't on the hook for the consequences of any—let alone every—decision they make.
There's a lot more to making a trip of that length, beyond simply filling the tank and popping your E-Z Pass on the windshield. And Ahlina's pockets are neither deep, nor informed, nor generous enough to extend that far.
Fortunately Athennia vetoed this right in the moment and we didn't have to argue about it later that night.
Thursday the 16th
Expectation
By this point in the week, I had no real expectations in any direction.
Who could even begin to guess what would happen next?
Reality
I would not have guessed that we'd have received a letter on our door the previous afternoon, letting us know that maintenance would be shutting off our water from 9:00 A.M. to 11:00 A.M. while they worked on some plumbing downstairs.
...A polite heads up?! Advanced notice farther out than 30 seconds?!
Wow! This was almost like... civility.
Either someone overheard me last month when I told Athennia that I was contemplating legal action and nailing our landlord for negligence and harassment if they shut off our water one more time without any notice... or, maybe their legal team thought of that on their own and told the maintenance guys, "Hey boys; we're lucky these people haven't already sued us four times. Maybe go ahead and keep them apprised of things from now on."
Who knows? But it sure was nice to be made aware ahead of time so that Riley and I could painlessly plan around the inconvenience :)
The four of us ordered Domino's that evening; and midway through dinner I heard our neighbor whom I call Ditz berating her son...
I got up and looked out the window...
Expectation
Surely a kid of three or four years wasn't just whipping it out and peeing in broad daylight.
Reality
He was.
He was peeing on the side of the building in front of Ditz and Hardhat's apartment—and possibly into the vent of their air conditioner.
You can't make this stuff up.
I'm not in the business of taking pictures of kids peeing; but I am in the business of public shaming people who act like clown-shoes... so, here's a picture of the pee-petrator from about a week prior...
On our way to take Taylor home that evening, she asked if we could stop at Wawa and offered to buy us ice cream or whatever else we wanted. (She's eligible for food stamps for some reason—and getting quite a bit, from what I can tell.)
So, we each picked out a Talenti gelato at $9 a pop (and Taylor got two for herself); and then we headed to the register to pay for $45 worth of ice cream.
Then Taylor remembered she wanted to buy some candy for herself and Riley; so she disappeared back into the heart of the store and returned a few minutes later with her arms overflowing with candy bars, to spend another $45.
It's not taxation is just blatant theft: You're helping the less fortunate!
If anything, you should feel good about yourself... and privileged to live in such a civilized country where the government knows better than you do who should get your money.
Expect it or not, that's your reality. Always has been :)