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OK, I finally have my new phone handset. It arrived today without the promised SIM extraction tool, so I had to bop on down to my carrier's store. Walking a few blocks from the bus stop gave me time to collect myself into a Nice, Middle-Aged White Lady and not the nasty, sarcastic terror customer that I had earlier contemplated being.
It turns out that with newer iPhones, the data transfer happens via Bluetooth when you turn on the new phone. That's nice, but without a SIM your authenticator apps break. I spent much of the afternoon frantically reconfiguring those, especially for anything work-related.
I've visited the store three times since I bought the phone in September. I'm hoping that the third time is indeed charmed. It better be, or the Nice, Middle-Aged White Lady will vanish.
That's the new stuff. Here's the old stuff: I grew up in a large house filled with impractical, Gothic revival furniture from late 19th century Spain. It's mostly mahogany and therefore dark. A lot of it has high relief wood carving, some of it beautifully executed. It's nightmare fuel for young children*. No member of the United Sister Front wants a stick of it**. I know this because Good Sister called today to ask me if I wanted any.
You see, one way or another, the time is rapidly approaching when we'll need to get that furniture out of Mom's house. So Good Sister is working the wires and asking our paternal cousins and uncle if they want any. My paternal grandfather was the one who bought it, and Dad liked it enough to fill a house with it. One piece is a dining room table that comfortably seats twelve. Really, it's ten miles over the top. It deserves to be with someone who appreciates it, but that someone won’t be any of us who lived with it for decades.
*Did that furniture turn me into a Goth? Nah. That required Seattle and actual Goth humans, especially those who eventually became my transition ground crew. Besides, the house that the furniture's in is an incongruous setting, spacious with Florida sun and suburban vegetation just outside the ample windows.
**Shoot, GS & I live in large metropolitan areas and can't afford space for it. Even if we could, that stuff just isn't to our taste.
It turns out that with newer iPhones, the data transfer happens via Bluetooth when you turn on the new phone. That's nice, but without a SIM your authenticator apps break. I spent much of the afternoon frantically reconfiguring those, especially for anything work-related.
I've visited the store three times since I bought the phone in September. I'm hoping that the third time is indeed charmed. It better be, or the Nice, Middle-Aged White Lady will vanish.
That's the new stuff. Here's the old stuff: I grew up in a large house filled with impractical, Gothic revival furniture from late 19th century Spain. It's mostly mahogany and therefore dark. A lot of it has high relief wood carving, some of it beautifully executed. It's nightmare fuel for young children*. No member of the United Sister Front wants a stick of it**. I know this because Good Sister called today to ask me if I wanted any.
You see, one way or another, the time is rapidly approaching when we'll need to get that furniture out of Mom's house. So Good Sister is working the wires and asking our paternal cousins and uncle if they want any. My paternal grandfather was the one who bought it, and Dad liked it enough to fill a house with it. One piece is a dining room table that comfortably seats twelve. Really, it's ten miles over the top. It deserves to be with someone who appreciates it, but that someone won’t be any of us who lived with it for decades.
*Did that furniture turn me into a Goth? Nah. That required Seattle and actual Goth humans, especially those who eventually became my transition ground crew. Besides, the house that the furniture's in is an incongruous setting, spacious with Florida sun and suburban vegetation just outside the ample windows.
**Shoot, GS & I live in large metropolitan areas and can't afford space for it. Even if we could, that stuff just isn't to our taste.
no subject
Date: 2021-11-16 11:31 pm (UTC)From:no subject
Date: 2021-11-16 11:37 pm (UTC)From:I did wonder. My extended family has dibs, but there sure is a lot of it, so it seems unlikely to me that they'll take it all. Actually, "taking" is the wrong word; Good Sister is selling it at "fair market value", which must be next to impossible to establish for something that unusual.