Dust Wars

Katherine vs. the dust. I like to think, when I've just cleaned something, that it will stay clean for a long time. And somehow it is disappointing each time. I have the same illusions when I fill up my gas tank or when I've just bagged a lawn's worth of leaves. It seems like I've done such a good job that it'll be that way for good. But oh, the dust. It's not seasonal. It's not dependent on how often I drive. It's forever. And it always wins.

Never-ending battles seem to be my forte lately. Or maybe ironic check payments. Example one: this year I decide to be unnervingly prompt with Frances' rabies tax (um, we pay to get them vaccinated and then have to pay the government for it as well? I've actually gotten a call before saying I'd have law enforcement after me if I didn't pay my cat tax), and, well, he dies that night. As if my cat passing away wasn't hard enough, I'm out an extra ten bucks (let alone the fact that he had an extra expensive well visit two days earlier and they said he looked just great).

And then there's Walt's birth certificate. They got my birth date wrong. On the back it gives instructions on how to make corrections. This includes getting a notary public to witness Dave's and my signatures as well as sending original documents stating my birth date. Since I don't feel particularly good about sending in my drivers license or passport, I thought I would get my birth certificate from my mother. As anyone with a newborn knows, this rigamaroll is the last thing on my to-do list and it takes me a while to accomplish it. However, I decide to call in last minute and ask if I really need to send in my birth certificate or if a copy will do. The guy has the audacity to tell me that since I waited an extra couple of weeks instead of sending it right back in with the typo that they'll have to charge me extra to fix the problem. As in more than it took to get the two copies in the first place. I sent the stuff in without any money attached and a nice post-it note saying I'd like my baby's birth certificate fixed.

If you were worried that was it, you don't have to be.

My OB/Gyn, two-thirds of the way through my pregnancy, decided to start sending my lab work to an out-of-network provider. Even after I told them not to. So I've been calling the OB, the lab, and my insurance to work all this out. A lot. Round and round we go, who will help Katherine with this problem? Finally I talk to a sane person at the insurance company. But they still need to do some investigation. After a couple more weeks of this, some rejections and more investigation pending, I decide to send in the d*mn check anyway today, thinking if this, by some miracle, gets worked out, they can reimburse me. Well, of course the insurance company calls this afternoon and tells me that they've readjusted some claims and I owe less money. I run to the mailbox and what do you know, this is the one day the mailman came early.