No matter how well I try and prep for vacation, we always come home to scary mail. I got all the bills paid and mailed before we left, made sure nothing was sitting in my inbox waiting to be taken care of, yet there it was when I got back. The pile of Scary Mail.
First, the electric bill. Always Scary. Thanks to running a space heater so my kid doesn’t freeze, also Expensive. I’m typing this blog by the light of a kerosene lamp. (Not really.)
There was the envelope with “Collection Services” in red on it. Panic! Open it to find out it’s a friendly receipt thanking us for paying our property tax on time. I recommend a change of envelopes, Property Tax People.
There’s the Mo-Health envelopes, wanting everything short of a blood donation to make sure Caden still qualifies for health insurance. After running around to my wallet, Aaron’s wallet, the stash of I-Am-A-U.S.-Born-Human documents I have for Caden and copying about a million pieces of paper, that’s ready to be mailed. Now I just have to guess where to mail it, since they didn’t so much tell me. Telling me to drop if off at my “Local Family Services Office” isn’t so helpful, since I know the office we previously went to has been relocated. It’s like a treasure hunt!
There was the thick AAA envelope thanking us for renewing our renters insurance, which I did NOT want to do since we’re moving. Oh and by the way, the first payment is being taken out in a day, thanks so much. No THANK YOU, AAA. OF course, when I call to cancel I get sent to the wrong voicemail box 13 times and then am rerouted to the same dumb receptionist 13 times, who can’t seem to walk around a corner and physically determine if our agent is there or NOT, or what his correct extension might be.
By the way, to NOT renew a policy, you actually have to GO TO THE BUILDING AND SIGN SOMETHING. Can’t do it online, can’t do it over the phone. What is this, 1992?! Do I live in Cuba? Is this a Communist country? What do you MEAN I have to sign something? You’ll fax it to me? Do you think I have a fax machine in my kitchen? I do not run a IRS office, this is my HOUSE. I DON’T EVEN HAVE A LAND LINE. No one uses faxes anymore! ARGH. Why don’t you just send me a telegraph when you get a website, ridiculous AAA Renters Insurance People. Or I’ll brush up on my Morse Code.
After a fun morning of finding stupid insurance info online (well, Aaron found it after I walked away from the computer, chucking forms and cursing), driving to the AAA office to be lectured about not renewing our policy (I finally politely cut him off and just asked him to cancel it already!), going to Costco for groceries and trying to get the last of the scary mail sorted out, my day is finally complete, my Scary Mail is de-scarified.
My January copy of Cooking Light came while we were gone, so that was cool. Too bad it was at the bottom of the Scary Mail stack, or perhaps I would have just wandered off with it, and left the mail to fend for itself.