Monday, April 25, 2011

The Day My Identity Kind of Got Stolen

Monday, Monday. I woke up this morning around 3am and my mind was a flutter. This happens to me every once in a while. I wake up in the middle of the night and begin perseverating on something absolutely ridiculous. Last night all I could think of was karaoke, and it kept me awake for hours.

It would be about three and a half hours before I'd fall asleep again. Three and a half hours spent thinking about karaoke? Are you serious? I'd say I probably thought about karaoke for an hour, the other two and half were spent thinking about why I had thought about karaoke for a solid hour, in the middle of the night at the beginning of the week.

And the thirst. Oh the thirst was unbearable last night. I got out of bed to pour myself three tall, beautiful and delicious glasses of pure Brita happiness into my good night cup. Sure, it felt great going down, but the getting up every hour to get more water only aggravated my sleepless condition even more. I also have this belief, which may be pure wives tale, that if you rub the sand from your eyes you rub the sleepies away. I rubbed the sleep away several times last night, and I know it kept me up.

Regardless, all I could think of was how much I wanted a karaoke machine. My life would be complete, if only I had a karaoke machine, and/or if I could just fall asleep and stop thinking about karaoke.  I tossed and turned, anxiety riddled and worried that I'd never fall asleep again, or own a karaoke machine.  There is nothing worse than not being able to fall asleep when you know that you need too. I had passed out so easily only a couple of hours before. My bed is really comfortable, my sheets very soft and my fans very loud and blustery, just as I like it. And yet sleep would not come for me. And what amazes me most about this scenario and the way it plays out every time is that I refuse against my better judgment to just get out of bed for a little while and try and do something else. Instead, I just lay there, listening to my heart beat and thinking the same whacked out thoughts over and over again. How will I ever afford a karaoke machine? If I owned a karaoke machine I'd make sure that I had all of the Dolly Parton discs I could find. If I had a karaoke machine, I'd probably have more friends.  Over and over and over again.

So I get out of bed at a quarter of 8, completely out of sorts and hop in the shower. I basically feel drunk and completely disoriented. I do my best to pull myself together but find myself getting back into bed after taking a shower. A quick 20 minute nap, that will do it.

So of course a quick 20 minute nap does absolutely nothing for me. I continue getting ready and decide that I will treat myself to some kind of breakfast that I don't prepare myself. I had no idea what this would be, but I knew that I would be leaving the house a little early to make sure I could find something.  I decide to check my Bank of America balance online before heading out of the house.

Um, HEELLLLOOOOOOO YOUR ACCOUNT HAS BEEN OVER DRAWN BY $2800.00!!!!!!!!

What? How the fuck did this happen? Did I order a really expensive and awesome karaoke machine in my sleep last night? Oh wait, impossible, because I DIDN'T SLEEP LAST NIGHT.

Obviously I begin to panic, I break out into a sweat, I start shaking, hyperventilating, assuming the most ridiculous things about how my account could have been so overdrawn. This was not what I needed this morning. What I thought I needed was a Kombucha drink from Whole Foods on my way to work. No, instead, I got the surprise of my life, and the threat of a stolen identity.

Who would want to steal my identity?  Did I annoy Adam to the point that this morning he said 'fuck it' and stole my check book, wrote himself a check for three grand and headed for the border? Damn it Adam! You know I don't have three thousand dollars!   I know that this is ridiculous, it only crossed my mind for about a fraction of a second, but it still crossed my mind. I don't even take my check book out of the house with me, so I knew that I hadn't lost it. Would my parents have stolen my check book when they were here this past weekend? Damn it parents! You know I don't have three thousand dollars!

So I call the bank and I'm basically hysterically crying, a tactic that I knew would get me all of my money back even if I was totally at fault for whatever had happened (seriously, when I fell asleep for an hour, did I get on my computer and order a karaoke machine?). The woman is very nice and helpful, and we're working to get this all straightened out, when I decide to click on the transaction and look further into this mess. The $3000 was taken out via check. I clicked on the check image...it was a check written out by me to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts for the taxes I owed, $141.

How the hell do you process a check for $141 for $3000? Seriously Commonwealth, what is going on here? Its not like $30.00 turned into $3000 because some schmo forgot to put in a decimal point, 141 and 3000 look nothing alike. They don't even kind of share any of the same numerals. The woman at BOA explained that the check was processed wrong, um....duh? What the fuck?  I just spent the last 30 minutes accusing all of my loved ones of stealing money from me and accusing myself of shopping in my sleep for expensive karaoke machine equipment? Not the best way to start a Monday, or a week for that matter.

So thanks Commonwealth of Massachusetts. Because it wasn't sucky enough sending you a check for $141, you had to scare the shit out of me by making me think that my entire life and identity was at the disposal of some unknown looney toon with my checkbook. What is scariest is that I assumed that looney toon to be myself. The upside...it did wake me up.

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