When your boss tells you to take a day off work as a “mental health day,” you know it’s been a tough week. It’s actually been a tough couple of weeks. As I mentioned in my previous post, Adelaide’s birthday week was exhausting – first Shingles, then what was supposed to be a fun weekend with my parents turned stressful when I got into a car accident and totaled my car. Adelaide’s birthday was fun, but a lot of work, and the following day Tim participated in a craft fair that also made for a long day.
What followed was a short work week for me since I attended the BlogHer ’12 conference in New York City last weekend – was that really only a week ago? It was two days packed with workshop after workshop, celebrity keynote speakers, a sponsor expo, panels and parties. There was very little down time. I stayed in a Manhattan hotel, and it was my first night away from my baby girl. It was a great experience – I’m very glad I went – and it was also an escape from the real world.
When I returned to work last Monday, I was confronted full-force with the real world and all its flavor. I knew I had to figure out how to deal with my car that had been racking up storage fees since the accident over a week earlier. So, while I wanted to blog about BlogHer and Adelaide’s birthday party, I spent Monday evening on the phone with the Philadelphia Parking Authority and then Googling “wrecked cars for cash.” There was definitely a smattering of tears in there too.
Tuesday, I thought I had found someone to buy my car. I had an offer for $220, another for $250 and then one for $300. Of course I wanted the highest bid, but by the time I actually got in touch with the local towing company affiliated with the offer, it was too late for them to do the pick up that day. Another day of $30-a-day storage fees. Wednesday, I had a co-worker drop me off at the parking authority (Have you ever seen the show Parking Wars? It’s filmed there. I swear it’s one of the realms of hell, like the DMV.) I of course had to wait in line to pay my $535 in fees, and then I turned over my title to the tow company in exchange for $300 cash.
The week left me a bundle of emotions. Everything made me feel like crying. There were times when I spoke to someone about my car while at work (parking authority, insurance claim rep etc…) and just closed my office door and cried (I usually reserved the tears for post-phone call, but not always – sorry insurance guy). The summer heat didn’t help any. Our house doesn’t have central air, and I don’t do well in the heat. I was a big grouch all week, and I felt sad for myself. I felt defeated.
So, that’s why I’ve been absent on the interweb this week – a week after a blogging conference where I’ve handed out dozens of business cards for my blog and my blog is receiving more traffic than usual, a time when I should be posting more regularly and be even more present in this space.
The insurance runaround is far from resolved. I still have no confirmation on what type of insurance coverage the woman who hit me actually had. Her insurance company (one I’ve never heard of) is moving very slowly, and they don’t want to do anything until they’ve received the official police report. Monday morning I will be following up on that one; yet another fun phone call. Also, yesterday Adelaide and I received letters from the fire department’s EMTs asking for our insurance information – hopefully the medical side of the accident can be resolved more easily than the auto damages. Either way, at least I no longer have a junked car sitting in a city parking lot racking up fees.
Tonight is the last night of the summer Olympics before the closing ceremony. I’d like to watch the US women’s volleyball team play Brazil for the Gold. I’d like to see Bolt and his Jamaican teammates set a new world record in their relay. However, I decided to carve out some time for myself and spend this Saturday night at the coffee shop. I’ve spent the last two hours writing, and while this may be my only blog post this week, at least it’s something. I always feel better when I write, and after a week like this, “good enough” is the best I can do. That’s all I can ask of myself.