I've got a feeling, a feeling I can't hide

One thing gets fixed, another goes faulty. It's the way it is sometimes. With the guidance from Mike, I was able to rid my computer of the spyware that had hijacked it. I've learned my lessons from watching horror movies, though, and am not quite ready to slip into the comfort of believing the monster is really gone. Still, I'm thrilled at the absence of pop-ups and the little pucker sound that seemed to emit from nowhere every thirty seconds. And, I'm thrilled I didn't have to shell out a bunch of bills for some anti-spyware software like I thought I was going to have to do. Thanks, Mike!

So, the spyware is gone and, completing the thought I began the post with, some other pain in the ass issue crops up in its place. And that issue is my Netflix account, or more particularly, the credit card I'd been using to pay for it. I just received notification from Netflix that it couldn't access my credit card. Hmm, I thought, I know I've got credit, what's this all about? After some investigating, I discovered my account had been canceled. Not because of lack of payment or anything I did, but because "the program" had ended. I hadn't been aware I was on a program. Guess I should of read the fine print in my contract. A new program will begin in October, I learned, at which time I will be issued a new card. Man, I really should have read the fine print.

I have another card I could use for Netflix, but that one has its own issues that need to be cleared up before I do. What a drag! I was just getting into watching Dexter on Instant Watch. Oh, well, things could be worse. Like my car, for example. Best not to even go there, lest I give myself a headache.
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Last weekend, I was taking a walk with Janelle and she commented that Rich was up to his old tricks again. I didn't know what she was talking about. "Oh, I thought you heard him last night. You had come home and were playing your guitar and I heard Rich at the bottom of the stairs yell "Quiet!!".

I had thought I was past this nonsense with Rich. Like always, I would have been happy to stop playing if he had knocked on my door or called me on my cell and asked me to. It's the yelling I can't abide; I've told him that before and he had professed to agree. It was not my intention to keep anyone up and, though I was trying to play softly, I can't always tell how the sound will travel. This yelling business was uncalled for and I wondered if drastic measures were going to have to be taken.

I was pissed and determined I absolutely had to talk to him about the incident immediately. A week or more leading up to it, he had been wholly unapproachable, he stayed hidden in his room and avoided contact with his roommates as much as possible. He's a study in avoidance. However it played out, I had to talk to him, no matter how isolated he had made himself.

When we got back to the house, I knocked on Rich's door. My anger had abated to the point where I wanted the confrontation to be civil, with an outcome agreeable to each of us. I hoped for the best as he opened his door.

I began by telling him I was sorry if I had kept him up the night before, that, even though I thought he was still up because it was a weekend night, I tried playing softly.

"Oh, you didn't keep me up. I slept through the night", he said.

"Well, I heard you yelled up the stairs for me to be quiet."

He squirmed a little. "Uh, well, yeah, uh maybe I did. I must have been half-asleep when I did it."

Oh, please.

"Well, if it happens again that I'm being too loud, could you just call me or knock on my door? I'd appreciate that. I don't respond very well to being yelled at."

"Yeah, I'm sorry. I should get a grip on those outbursts. No problem. I'll call you or knock on your door, like you said."

The tone of the conversation was light, despite what was being said, and at the end of it, I felt really good. I had asserted myself, said what needed to be said, without making matters worse. I think Rich appreciated that. I told him again it's never my intention to keep anyone up and if I do, I will take measures to be quiet.

Who knows if he'll have another outburst -- the odds suggest he will -- but for now, I'm happy we worked things out diplomatically.
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I smell a Werner Herzog marathon coming. It's about time; the man just has a way about expressing the inexpressible that scratches me where I itch.

Enough of me. I'm off to enjoy the day.