fuckups

when i was on my way down to the clinic this morning, terry called me in a blind rage. knowing that i hadn't done anything (well, i should say, scanning back in my mind really quickly to make sure i hadn't done anything), i knew that it must be something involving baltimore, baltimore's incompetence, baltimore's unfriendly, incompetant people, or a combination of the above. i was right.

"i just got a bill from BGE for 300 dollars," he told me furiously. this doesn't come as a huge surprise. the fuckups over at BGE--i actually used the word "fuckups" on the phone with him several times even though i'm in the office--never came to read our meter while we were living there. actually i think they read it twice--once when we moved in and once last june. twice. apparently every other time we got a bill it was just a guesstimate. ohhh, the average two-faggot household uses this much energy, they thought. once you account for the hairdryers, the esspresso makers, and the plug-in vibrators, the bill should be about (throws dart at board) $75.61.

apparently, though, they've decided to go and read our meter--over two months after we vacated the property--and come up with a figure of $300. mind you, that's after terry paid $200 he supposedly owed after the meter was read in june. $300 for the month of july? ah no.

i told him that it made sense that we owed 300 bucks. "every day when you left for work, i'd leave the back sliding door and the front door open, then set the thermostat on 50 while i ran the washer, dryer, and dishwasher (all empty), blared the stereo, turned on both televisions, and left the shower on its hottest setting. then i'd leave for work," i told him.

"oh, ok," he said, playing along. "i always came home and thought it was sascha."