I Hate Midtown

I have now spent two days in the general vicinity of 34th and 7th, and I want you to know that I hate it and am frustrated.

It started yesterday, when I called Con Ed to try to figure out where we stood on a payment plan. It turned out (beginning of frustration city here) that although I had sent them the required deposit, the bank had turned it down, on the basis that my account didn't exist.

Imagine my surprise, since money had been going into and regularly appearing in said account. Well, I figured THAT problem out...I am a blithering idiot. What happened was that a few weeks back, I discovered that I could still remember my old bank account number, which started with 56. This bothered me when I was depositing checks, because I had to stop and think of my current bank account (which I've had for YEARS now), which starts with 24. My aging brain promptly got everything screwed up and evidently made me think backwards...i.e., that the 56 account was the current one and the 24 account the old one. And since I haven't done any movie work recently (which is the only place I get checks from because everything else is direct deposit, and that's all fine), I had no way of finding out that I was screwed up...because, on the payment I sent to Con Ed, I used the old account number and the bank never saw fit to inform me of the problem.

Anyway, I got this all neatly straightened out in my own head...or so I thought. And I cleaned out my junk drawer and threw out all the "old" checks with the 24 number on them...still under the impression that the 56 account was correct.

I then went (now we're getting to 34th Street) to Fidelity Investments, across from Penn Station, and pulled some money out of my IRA to give to Con Ed by direct wire transfer into my account. Unfortunately, I gave THEM the wrong damn account number, too.

At any rate, I've got the whole thing straightened out now, and I even managed to retrieve my checks before the garbage went out.

But I am here to tell you that 34th Street is exhausting. I did a long circuit of it yesterday, because as long as I was there (which I am as little as possible), I figured I'd go and check out the new JC Penney...which is filled with overpriced polyester and not worth the trouble. I also poked my nose in H&M and Old Navy, because I'm looking for tops for the two new suits I bought. That is a problem, because while I know what I'd wear with the two suits, it doesn't happen to be what movie costumers want me to wear. Therefore, I have really specific goals in mind here - and there was almost nothing. I did manage to get two lace edged camisoles at Old Navy which will do, I hope, but what I really want is a pale blue shell for the navy suit, and something or other for the gray pants suit...the problem is that in every single shoot I've been on, I'm told, no black, no red, no white, all of which are, of course, what I'd wear with those two suits. Yeeks. (I also found a nice brown corduroy shift dress on sale at Old Navy which will come in handy for the odd temp job and maybe even a movie.)

And then I had to go BACK up there twice today. Part of my dental apparatus came apart, and I had to go get that fixed on account of not being able to eat - good for the figure, but the passing out not eating causes is fairly useless. So I handed them the piece at 10 am and was told that it wouldn't be ready until between 2 and 3 in the afternoon. This meant that, having NO desire to go shopping for the second day in a row, I went home, changed the catbox, ate some yogurt, and shlepped uptown again.

So I am tired, annoyed, and feeling terminally stupid. Oh, well. Tomorrow is food day in the NYTimes. And maybe someone will call me for a movie. Or a date. Or pigs will fly. Or SOMETHING nice will happen.

Love, Wendy