Continuing my search for gentler books to read in my own bookcases, I discovered I owned only ten Hillerman’s. Some of these are in late stage mold status. I must have lost my temper and thrown the rest of the mold away. That’s all I can think of.
My eye fell on two Knox’s. My memory tells me that these were really good. Before I go buy used copies of all these fifty novels, I’d better read one to see if I still like him. A Scot, he wrote under a handful of pseudonyms for the American market: Michael Kirk, Robert MacLeod and Noah Webster.
While I dug among the books yesterday, I also tried to solve the problem of the thousand dollar, miss-billed, ambulance ride. They said the insurance company denied payment, but they were supposed to bill my medical group. They didn’t. In the end, after a series of 1-800 calls, I did get the answer, “If you don’t hear from us, it’s resolved. Check to see if this has been paid on your “this-is-not-a-bill.” Gee, that’s not the immediate solution I was looking for.
Next call I tackled. With the Mystery Guild quadruple invoicing PayPal, the PayPal folks couldn’t have been nicer. I’d bought two books before I left for surgery, and something happened to make the transaction incomplete. I took the transaction was off PayPal’s roster, and I removed them as the payee from the Mystery Guild.
I didn’t have good luck with the Mystery Guild. Not only couldn’t I cancel my account, I couldn’t get those two books off the record. The lady I last talked to insisted the books had shipped, that the web site was down, that I couldn’t’ cancel my account, then she hung up on me.
I still felt triumphant that I was able to deal with all this without yelling or chafing at being on hold for half an hour. I am really triumphant that I was able to make the bed this morning too. I’ve folded up the upstairs walker except for those exercises. We have lite lift off.
Life is Really in the Footnotes: