Thursday morning

Last night

A.: I'm thinking of bringing my laptop--I have some work I'd like to do that I need the software on my laptop for...

Mom: Why don't you just use our computer?

A.: Because I need the software on my laptop. Anyway, the thing is, my laptop doesn't function as a laptop--the screen is broken so I have to connect it to an external monitor. So, do you have an extra monitor lying around that I could use, and is your wireless completely up and running?

[A few years ago, mom had assured me that the wireless was indeed up and running, but it wasn't, as we found out after I'd already brought my laptop.]

Mom: What? I thought you had a laptop?

A.: I do have a laptop. The screen is broken. I have to hook it up to a monitor.

Mom: A monitor?

A.: Like the ones you have your computers hooked up to. Could I maybe use dad's while he's at work? Or do you have an extra one around the house?

Mom: I don't know. We'll see.

A.: Well, could you find out? I don't want to lug my laptop if I can't use it.

Mom: Meh.

A.: Could you also get the wireless info ready--find your password--so I can use it?

Mom: Meh.

Do y'all remember many years ago, when I asked mom to find out what time a family friend was getting married in New York? We were all going to the wedding. If it was on Saturday night, I'd come up Saturday morning. If it were Saturday afternoon, I'd take Friday off and come up then. She told me it was Saturday afternoon. I took Friday off, spent the afternoon and evening in our cousins' smoky apartment in Brighton Beach. Listening to super-loud Russian TV. The wedding turned out to be on Saturday night, 8pm. It's that Mom can't be bothered to check on things like that before giving an answer.

***
I'm three for three in the last two weeks for just-in-time arrivals to the gate area. I nearly missed my flight back from Phoenix--it was one thing after another that culminated in my running up to the gate ten minutes before departure and wiping out in front of the whole gate area, stuff flying out of my messenger bag. But I made it.

This morning, I was already running not-too-on-time, and several blocks out, I realized I'd forgotten my cord and power supply. I was already lugging the laptop; may as well go back. Got the cord, went back out, was greeted by a just-in-time metro train. I'd factored in some time for the trek to Terminal A, but not enough time. The historic terminal is closed, so the walk was even longer than usual. And the security line was long. And people (other passengers) were not being efficient. But I made it.

I think I subconsciously cut it close because I don't love spending time in airports, and I subconsciously figured I'd be spending time in Logan upon arrival. You may recall that my parents (well, my mother) won't leave the house until I've called from the tarmac once we've landed. God forbid she gets there early and has to circle or wait in the waiting area! She won't even split the difference... in fact, she won't even think about getting ready to leave the house until after I've called. She knows I don't check luggage. She knows flights often get in early. She knows it can be very cold in Boston in December, even though this morning, it wasn't.

Now, you may be thinking I have a sense of entitlement and that I should get my lazy ass on the T, but come on. My parents live a 20-minute drive from the airport, and why am I here flying to Boston, anyway? I'm coming to see them. Is it too much to ask that they come get me at the airport and that they at least try to meet me half-way in terms of wait time? At least, to their credit, they remembered the date and approximate time of my arrival. To her credit, I should say. Dad is pretty good at keeping track of these things.

Anyway, I called upon landing, at 7:30.

Mom: What? You're already there?
A.: [Sigh]
Mom: Alright, I guess we'll come get you.

I called again 25 minutes later to ask if they were close, if I should go outside.

Dad: We're just leaving now.
A.: [Sigh]

They called 15 minutes after that.

Mom: Traffic's just awful. It's going to be a while, so if you have any business to do, this is a good time to do it.
A.: Thanks, but I'm all set.
Mom: Are you sure?
A.: Yes, I'm sure.
Mom: Well, then go outside now.
A.: But you said you weren't even close.
Mom: So? You never know if we'll lose signal closer to the airport. Better go outside now.
A.: Can you estimate how far you are?
Mom: What's your problem? It's nice out?
A.: It's not freezing, but I wouldn't say nice.
Mom: Just go outside. Oh. Dad says 10 minutes.
A.: Fine. I'll come outside in 10 minutes.

***
They found me at the airport. Dad went to work, mom and I had tea. I hooked up my laptop to one of the monitors in the house. I asked mom for her wireless passcode.

Mom: I have no idea?
A.: Do you have it written down somewhere?
Mom: I suppose. Dad likes to write these things down.

Mom brings the notebook with the passwords. I'm able to connect. I check my credit card bill and yell, "WHAT??"

Mom: What happened?
A.: I'll tell you in a minute. I need to fix this.
Mom: What? What happened?
A.: I'll tell you in a minute.
Mom: What's happening?
A.: MOM! I NEED TO FIX THIS!

[Pause]

Mom: What happened?

***
What happened is that I have the least user-friendly credit card on the face of the earth. A couple of months ago, I'd set up auto-pay, whereby my bill is automatically paid from my bank account on the due date. Nobody told me that it would take a month for this to go into effect, so when I saw that my bill was unpaid, I called the card company. Customer Service assured me everything was fine, said the payment had gone through. The following week, I saw on my next statement that it hadn't gone through and that I'd been assessed a finance charge. I called again, was told that everything was fine; the finance charge was refunded. So I thought that everything was fine, until my credit card was rejected at Tastee Diner in Bethesda. Do you know how interesting it is to have one's card declined, not once, but twice, not at Gucci, but at Tastee Diner?

I called the company again. They informed me that the card was indeed declined because I was delinquent on a payment, because the autopay doesn't take effect for a month. Not to worry, they said; it happens all the time. I said I'd pay my bill immediately and asked whether, when the payment is drafted next time around, whether they would draft the full statement amount (including the amount of the last statement, which I'd pay) or the amount minus. Amount minus, they assured me.

Well, they drafted the full f*ing amount. And guess what: I didn't have those extra funds in my checking account. F*ckers. So that's why I yelled, and mom started asking me questions, and I told her to hold off until I'd moved money into that account.

So I moved funds into that account, hoping the payment wouldn't bounce and lead to fees from both financial institutions (it would be the credit card company's fault, but it's not like they're going to refund the bank fee). F*ckers.

I call the credit card company. I deliberately call them from where my mom is not and explain the situation to customer service. Mom sits down in the same room, starts sorting through things, and mumbles to herself. I ask her to be quiet. She then starts chewing loudly. I'm done with the credit card company and go to the other room to call the bank. Mom comes into the room.

Mom: Oh, my! We're missing Dr. Oz!
A.: Mom, I'm on the phone!

Mom stands there, sorts through things while I finish with the bank. I hang up the phone.

Mom: You've gained a lot of weight, from this vegetarian diet of yours.