Gaaaah!

<reaches out and throttles the pathetic excuse of a firm posing for her landlord>
<tears her hair>
<growls>

Now I finally know the reason why, suddenly, two weeks ago, my cable went out. Why I missed the last episode of 'Action'. Why I, all of a sudden, didn't have any reception beyond snowfall and the transmissions of one or two local networks.

See, I cleared out all books from my cupboards, then removed the cupboards -- alone, swearing, sweating and trembling with the effort of moving the heavy things -- to check the cable. Since it still was properly inserted in its socket, I was ready to throw a hissy fit and burst into angry tears. In retrospect, I'm not so sure I didn't do both. At least, the whole occurrence put me in the proper mindset for ignoring the new chaos in my living room and start giggling in some sort of aggressive gallows humor: I read the rest of the stories in the By your Command Battlestar Galactica archive. No matter the outrageousness of the storylines encountered, I couldn't help but take it all with some sort of incredulous amusement. Starbuck raped -- check. Starbuck maimed -- check. Apollo disowned by Adama -- check. Apollo maimed -- check. Starbuck someone's sex toy/slave since the orphanage -- check. Apollo a closet sadist -- check. Adama raping Starbuck -- check. Apollo and Starbuck being harrassed by the whole Fleet for loving each other -- check. Apollo and Starbuck separated for all eternity -- check. Sheba/Serina/Bojay/take-your-pick a malicious bitch/asshole -- check. Mwaaaha!!! I simply can't take it seriously anymore. So many clichéd, violent storylines without any happiness at all for its protagonists -- the BG authors (apart from some praiseworthy exceptions) are one sorry bunch. Yeah, this might be considered a flame... so what, I don't care anymore! I'm fed up with this emotional circus. Compared to BG, even the conflicted pairings in XF, Oz and Mag7 are the epitome of mental stability and tenderness.

But enough of that, and back to the cable drama. I found out (after refusing to be fobbed off with statements like: "We can't help you here either -- why don't you just pick up the phone book and look for the cable company responsible among a multitude of entries... you might even find the right company after -- what? let's say 100 phone calls?") that the cable reception in my apartment isn't due to a contract between my landlord and the cable company, but rather due to such a contract between the tenant and the company. And that is was simply switched off after the contract between said company and my predecessor ran out -- which just happened to have been two weeks ago. Great. My landlord sucks. They weren't capable of giving me any help at all with finding the company responsible for power, water, gas, and evidently didn't deem it necessary either to inform me that the damn cable reception has to be taken care of by me, too. The janitor here is never at home, and her children always promise to let her know I'd been looking for her, but somehow manage to forget to do exactly that, all the time.

The moving firm also hasn't been able to finally pick up the boxes which are still piled up in the corridor, to the never-ending joy of my neighbors. Grrrrr.

When will I get that unarmed-combat self defense class?! I really want to hit someone at the moment.

I love the cable company guys, though. They promised to send someone to switch it on again -- today. Will wonders never cease

The cable guy was here (no, not Jim Carey -- he was nice, not a psycho, since he helped me move my cupboards back... which is way faster when there are two of you *g*). Heh. Now I can watch TV again!!!

But I'd better watch a lot of TV. For 20,20 EUR each month, I really have to. I could easily go see a movie at the cinema, three times a month, for that amount. Grrrr.