I would like to buy a small amount of good chocolate as a birthday present for someone who loves chocolate. I am wondering what, in your opinion, is the best chocolate that I could just drive to a store and purchase. If I had a See’s near me, that’s where I’d be going—but alas.

I am picturing the amount that would fill a mug, which is her other present from me—but if the recommendations tend toward chocolate sold in a bar shape or a pretty box, that is fine: it does not HAVE to go in the mug. I say “a store” because I would prefer not to have to order it: warm-weather shipping is expensive; also, the birthday is soonish. [Edited to add: if it comes from Amazon with Prime shipping, that would work too.]

All the questions you might currently have, I can’t answer. Is she picky about brand? I don’t know. Does she prefer milk or dark? I don’t know. How does she feel about soft centers / caramels / truffles? I don’t know. How about nuts and fruit? I don’t know. And so all you have to go on is the very basic question about what YOU think is the best. (It’s okay if your answer involves a store you don’t know if it’s near me or not. Even if the store is NOT near me, I suspect OTHER people, people who DO live near that store, will want to hear about it.)

Last night I got an email from Old Navy about cardholders getting 40% off, and although I think of their clothes as being pretty much the same price no matter what the sale is (this is the case with many, many stores, not at all just Old Navy), I realized I hadn’t checked their Tall Perfect Crew t-shirts in awhile, and I like to make sure I am UP TO THE MINUTE on new colors for those, because I have allllll the grey, black, white, and navy I can EVER WEAR, and every so often they offer colors other than those.

Anyway. There were no new colors on the Tall Perfect Crews, and I remembered from a recent post that the word “tunic” was a good way to find shirts that fit like Talls, so I searched tunic.

(image from OldNavy.com)

Wait. That is not a tunic. In fact, if I saw that just described as “relaxed plus-size hoodie,” I would think, “Nope, too short.”

(image from OldNavy.com)

Okay, these are also not tunic-length. My understanding of the word “tunic” is that it means “will cover your entire butt and can be worn with leggings.” I do not even want to wear that short boxy coral one with jeans, let alone leggings. And look at the side-slit! The skin of her torso would be showing if she were standing up straight.

(image from OldNavy.com)

Yes, THESE are tunics! Not available in plus-sizes, though. Hm. I will keep looking.

(image from OldNavy.com)

This too is a tunic-length top. Regular sizes only, no plus.

(image from OldNavy.com)

That’s a nice regular-sizes-only tunic-length shirt. Look at that excellent butt-coverage!

(image from OldNavy.com)

Tunic-length sweater for thin people.

(image from OldNavy.com)

Tunic-length sweater for non-thin people.

(image from OldNavy.com)

Do your legs touch at any point, even at the very very widest part? No? Then you may have a tunic. Here, this is plenty long enough to cover that embarrassing thigh-gap.

(image from OldNavy.com)

But are you plus-sized, even MODEL plus-sized, and would really like to participate in the leggings trend? I am sorry, this is what we call a tunic for YOU. Nice and short, a little EXTRA short in the tum region, with a nice high side-slit and oddly warped stripes. Also, we made the sleeves shorter, because we know plumper women like to show off those upper arms.

I did go to the funeral, and I was so grateful for all your encouragement to do so, even if that feedback might have been sliiiiiightly skewed due to me saying, pretty much verbatim, “If you think I shouldn’t go, don’t say so”—and so I also thank those of you who thought I shouldn’t go but refrained from saying so. It takes great internal fortitude to keep quiet when you think someone is making a mistake, or anyway it takes ME great internal fortitude, so again, thanks.

As the time to get dressed and get in the car grew closer, I grew increasingly stressed (“HOW DOES THIS EVEN WORK. WHERE WILL I PARK. WHERE WILL I SIT. WHAT WILL I SAY. WHAT WILL I WEAR. HOW MUCH WILL I CRY. WHAT IF ALL MY CHOICES ARE WRONG”), so all those “No, really, it’s a good idea to go” comments helped get me past the Bailing Out window, and then afterward I felt very glad that I went. The family seemed glad to see me. I was glad to be there. I was glad to have been there. It was win-win-win.

I have found a way to chill out a bit about my working situation while I figure out what to do, and that is to pretend I’m doing a series of jobs, each for one year. I immediately relax: “Oh, I can do this for two more months, no big!” Lots of things can change in a couple of months. Maybe in two months I’ll be settled into my new schedule and I’ll be content again. Maybe in two months my “I cannot leave her” client will have died or gone into a nursing home or moved beyond my ability to care for her. Maybe in two months my supervisor will be replaced. For now I’ll stop thinking I have to RIGHT NOW make the decision between “Quitting THIS MINUTE” and “Doing this for the rest of my life.”

Instead I’ll think about what job I’ll do NEXT, which is a fun topic rather than stressful, if I’m thinking about something I’ll only do for a year. Bakery again? Bakery was pretty okay. I always smelled delicious. Something in the school system? Something where I sit next to a computer with a pile of paperwork, occasionally chatting with co-workers?

Oh, I just finished this book and I think you might want to try it:

(image from Amazon.com)

So Sad Today, by Melissa Broder. One of the reviews on the back describes it as “uncomfortable,” and I would say some sections certainly qualify—but it’s the kind of discomfort that can come from someone being really, really frank about themselves, not the kind where someone is describing, say, cruelty to animals. There was one chapter about a fetish, and I sort of skimmed that quickly: after 17 years of motherhood, the sound of someone about to barf fills me with nothing but horror. But I found a lot to identify with, and the whole thing reminded me of blogging I remember from years ago, where it was more like Online Diaries. One chapter is about a time in her marriage when they were non-monogamous. Another is a series of funny texts between herself and her Higher Self. There is a lot of talk about living with anxiety and depression and what that’s like for her, and some of her coping mechanisms. There’s an interesting chapter about fake crushes, and methods she does/doesn’t recommend for getting over them.

One of my clients died, and I am not 100% sure I am allowed to say so. The HIPAA training we’ve received is so tight, I’ve wondered if we are even allowed to say we HAVE clients, or if we are supposed to pretend we are secretaries or CIA agents or something. My general feeling about HIPAA is this: if I can tell you some non-embarrassing information about a person, and then even if I gave you a WEEK at gunpoint to find out who I was talking about you couldn’t do it without committing crimes, then probably I am not violating anyone’s privacy.

Anyway, I am not VERY sad, because this was a situation where the end was a mercy sought by all, including the client. But of course I am still some sad. I am also upset because I was planning to go to the funeral [edited to add: I would have gone to the visitation instead, but they’re having only a funeral], and then Paul said he thought that would be really weird. “Maybe if you’d been her full-time caregiver for, like, five years,” he said. And I was going to ask for group input on this, but I realized two things: (1) Paul has already ruined it by planting doubt, despite being a person who didn’t attend his own father’s funeral so maybe I could just dismiss his opinion on this, and (2) I don’t want to hear even one more person confirm his opinion. I would really like it if “going to a funeral” was in pretty much EVERY SINGLE CASE considered a normal, nice, non-weird, routine, CITIZEN OF THIS PLANET thing to do.

I don’t mind if we make exceptions for people who attend in bad faith (wanting to cause a scene, wanting to make others unhappy, not even knowing the person or his/her family but going for the free food, etc.), but high attendance at a funeral is considered a GOOD thing, and low attendance is considered a SAD thing, and I don’t see why it would be weird to attend the funeral of ANYONE I had a connection to, including co-workers, parents of friends, the town librarian, etc. She was my very first client, and I took care of her at least once a week for nearly ten months, and I will be continuing to care for her husband. If I were her husband/children, I think I would be touched to see the caregivers attend the funeral, and it would make me glad because I would think it meant they were actually fond of her and so probably took good care of her when she was alive.

This also brings my job to a crossroads. I have been thinking for awhile that my continuing stress levels after ten months may mean this job is just not a good fit—even though in some ways it is a GREAT fit. Losing this client means changing my schedule again, and my supervisor tried to give me a client who is so out of my league, it gives me a sick feeling to think she’d be willing to send someone so unqualified. The care plan is packed with notes from the nurse about how the person taking this client MUST be able to do X, Y, and Z—all CNA/LNA-trained tasks, none of which I can do. I emailed my supervisor yesterday morning saying so, and she hasn’t replied. The last time I turned down a client, she took it badly, and I am still having occasional imaginary arguments with her in my head about it. I am trying very hard to put into practice the philosophy of this book:

(image from Amazon.com)

It is helping somewhat, but I am still flinching with anticipation of the email I am likely to eventually receive. I am trying to remember that the ABSOLUTE WORST that can happen is that she can say “You know what, this isn’t working out”—which I AGREE with, but I would be sad to leave one of my clients. The second-worst possible outcome is one that might be the BEST outcome, which would be for me to continue spending three short shifts per week with the one client who is exactly what I had in mind when I sought out this job, and then quit when that client no longer needs me. Despite all this mental coaching, I am still getting a gross feeling every time I hear a “new email” sound. Because the ACTUAL thing I’m worried about is not the practical outcome with regard to the job, but rather the number of things she could say that I will hate and want to argue with.

Breaking news: I just received a completely friendly and good-natured email from my supervisor. Well. This just further demonstrates two things: (1) How very nice it would be to be the sort of person who doesn’t think about bad things until they actually happen, and (2) How VERY MUCH my supervisor influences my job satisfaction, because in one email I went from “I think I’d better quit” to “Sure, I’ll take on those additional shifts!”

[Edited to add: Then she called later, and we had a conversation in which said she was sorry about the mix-up in my schedule: she said hadn’t realized the client I’m literally not qualified to care for was “so much work,” and she referred to the shifts I AM qualified to take as “light, fluffy shifts.” It was subtle but effective: I was left with the impression that I requested the alterations in my schedule to suit my lazy ways, rather than based on whether my skill set was an appropriate/safe match with the client’s needs. So. We’re back to “I think I’d better quit.”]

I own a lot of mugs, and I LIKE to own a lot of mugs. I am now at the “If a new mug comes into the house, an old mug must go out” stage of mug-ownership, but only because I cannot figure out a way to steal another cupboard shelf.

Notice that the shelf is curving under the weight of all those mugs.

Here are my current favorites, from largest to smallest:

And now the individual mug profiles:

The chicken mug. It has come to my attention that they are roosters, but I still think of it as the chicken mug. It is one of my largest mugs; I most often use it when I am having coffee as a beverage with a meal, as opposed to when I am just having a cup of coffee. This is a mug I resisted buying, because it is so large and because its shape seems tippy. But I could not resist the pull of the chickens, and then I was so glad I’d given in. I wish there was not a chicken on the inside of the mug, even though I found that charming when I bought it, because I feel a little uncomfortable if the hot coffee overlaps him—as if his feeties will get burned.

These two mugs are a little embarrassing, because I bought both of them for other people, thinking “This is a gorgeous mug—not my style, but perfect for so-and-so”—and then got them home and couldn’t believe I’d considered giving them away, and kept them. Even more embarrassing, it actually went like this:

1. Purchased light blue mug for recipient.
2. Brought light blue mug home and couldn’t believe I’d considered giving it away.
3. Purchased pink mug as replacement for recipient.
4. Brought pink mug home and couldn’t believe I’d considered giving it away.

With the pink mug, I even stood there in the store explaining to my mother why the pink mug was different than the blue mug and I Really Wouldn’t want to keep it for myself.

These are both largeish mugs, not as large as the chicken mug but pretty good as beverage mugs. I usually have to add a little more coffee to them before I’m done with breakfast. I think one reason I love them so much right now is that my eyes were hungry for spring colors. I may love them less in the fall/winter.

Bird mug. This one looks oddly largish in the picture but is more petite: the pedestal and the nipped-in sides mean it holds significantly less than its pink/blue neighbors. I use this one when I am Having Some Coffee But Not as a Beverage Per Se. Like, for my pre-breakfast coffee, or for a little coffee to go along with a cookie later on. It bothers me a little bit that the bird on the inside of the mug is so similar to the bird visually closest to it on the outside of the mug. I wish it were a different bird entirely. But I have made peace with that. I love the curvy shape of the mug, and the handle, and the birdies. I am more drawn to this mug in spring/summer.

These two are also Small Mugs. I have this same mug in I think five different prints, because I like the size/shape/handle/heft so much. The one with the little grey blossoms is a winter favorite that will soon be replaced by the brighter/springier ones—but I do still reach for it on grim mornings. The other is one I stood considering in the store, thinking, “What is the MEANING of this design? Birds on bird-stands? Roses bigger than the birds? Butterflies? Grapes? Why?”—but I’m so glad I bought it because it stays fun to look at.

This is a topic, by the way, where I would be VERY INTERESTED in seeing YOUR favorite mugs, so if you do (or have done) a post on it, I hope you’ll leave a link in the comments. Or I’d enjoy just HEARING about your favorite mug(s).

My mom and I have gotten in a pattern of going shopping each week, always including Target (I always need something from Target) but our favorites are stores like HomeGoods and Marshalls and consignment shops, because they’re like treasure-hunting. We don’t always buy much, but we like looking and considering and discussing. In recent weeks we’ve frequently gone through entire stores and purchased nothing at all: the stock comes and goes, and also both of us have been getting rid of stuff recently, and that puts a damper on bringing in more stuff.

BUT. Yesterday I had a very successful shopping trip, in which stuff was added to my household. I’m going to tell you where I bought each thing AND how much I paid. It is tricky talking about prices, because one person’s “WOW awesome deal!!” is another person’s “Must be nice to have so much spare cash”—and making self-deprecating comments on one’s own purchase prices only makes it WORSE, generating reactions from “She thinks that’s cheap?? Is she HIGH??” to “Oh, man, if she thinks that’s expensive, what would she think about what I spend??” Therefore I will not COMMENT on the price, I will just TELL it to you. Or maybe I will comment a little if I can’t resist.

FIRST: I have been looking for LARGE PLASTIC CUPS. Target used to have them with their summer dishes line every year, so I got cocky: I won’t OVERBUY, I’ll just wait until the next year and maybe get a new color! Oh, shopping hubris. So for the last few years we have been down to one single large plastic cup, and none of the plastic cups I found elsewhere were right: too tippy, don’t stack, poor handfeel, whatever. Yesterday I found something I think will work:

These are Cynthia Rowley 32-ounce iced-tea cups, and WE SHALL SEE. They were in a set of 8 for $7.99 at HomeGoods. I wish I could have bought them individually and mixed the patterns, because I liked but didn’t love any of the patterns, and I don’t really need EIGHT of these. There were whales, tropical flowers, flamingos, fish, wavy stripes. I finally got the mixed sea creatures; I took the picture so you could see all the way around the cup. My mother was very patient while I considered all the options. [Update: I don’t recommend these. They say they are dishwasher-safe, but after a few trips through the dishwasher (top rack only), the design started looking mottled and water-spotted. By now (a couple of months later), the pattern is also STICKY.]

NEXT. The last time we were at HomeGoods, I saw some pretty plastic glasses that looked like glass. I don’t generally like drinking out of glass glasses, but I like the LOOK of them, and when I was home having dinner I wished I was drinking out of a pretty new glass-looking plastic glass. So yesterday when we were at HomeGoods again I bought two of them:

I didn’t measure them, but they’re the usual size of glass you might have with dinner. What would that be, 16 ounce? Something like that. They were $2.99 each. I am resisting commenting on that. That is just what they cost.

THEN. This was not actually chronologically next, but we are on the topic of glasses so let’s keep to the theme. The last time I was visiting my brother, he said probably don’t drink liquor out of plastic cups because who knows probably it’s fine but you know maybe also the alcohol dissolves the plastic and you drink it but probably that’s fine tho. Anyway, I was looking for some smallish glass glasses. I found these:

They were at a consignment shop, $3 for the pair. I think they’re probably about 6-ounce, but I haven’t checked. I will try my vodka/gin-and-whatever in them this weekend. Or perhaps tonight.

THEN. My mom and I were taking turns using the bathroom while the other person babysat the cart/purses, and I was browsing the art and saw this fellow:

I like squirrels, and also one of Edward’s nicknames is Squirrel, and also this Squirrel looks a bit like Edward, so I was interested. The next picture in the stack was a fox in a business suit, but it had a human body and human hands, and NO. Animals in formal wear? YES. Human bodies with animal heads? NO. And then I saw THIS gentleman:

And once the dapper birdy was going home with me, it seemed right to bring the squirrel as well. HomeGoods, $9.99 each.

Finally, a little something for Paul:

My sister-in-law bought one of these giant bars of soap for Paul for Christmas, and he kept talking about how much he liked it, and I kept saying Christmas/birthday was the PERFECT time for $10 bars of soap, but “random day in spring” was NOT. But HomeGoods had these for $6.99 each, and they were the last two, and…well, I must have been feeling warmly toward Paul. And he’s right, they DO last a long time: he only just finished up the bar he got for Christmas. And they do smell nice. And the packaging is amusing, and I like to reward amusing packaging. Still, this is the purchase that got me thinking how awkward it can be to talk about prices.

I am looking for t-shirts that are (1) tall and (2) big enough without being too big. I’m plus-sized (you can be big OR tall but not both if you’re a woman), but the Old Navy XXL Tall used to be perfect: the Tall dimensions added width as well as length. But they’ve changed their cut/fit, so now they’re even more “fitted” than before, and the neckline is odd. I’ve tried the Old Navy 2X in plus sizes, but it’s too short and too wide. And in a lot of brands, 2XL is “baby doll fit”—i.e., a size or two smaller than expected. Anything men’s or unisex looks ridiculous on me: way too wide in the shoulders and waist, but then super tight across hips and stomach. But men’s sizes are LONG enough, at least.

Probably price is going to be another issue. I searched “tall plus-size” and did find some limited options—for, like, $60 per shirt. NO. Not for a perfectly ordinary t-shirt that would sell for $10 if it were a few inches shorter and narrower. I would like what I used to get at Old Navy, which was about $5-10/shirt, depending on sales. I will be reasonable and pay up to $15-20 for t-shirts if there is no other choice, but that is IT.

Some mornings, when I am getting dressed and putting up my hair for what feels like the millionth boring time, the smell of coffee wafts down the hallway. I am so grateful to Evening Swistle at those moments, for setting up the coffee pot the night before and putting it on auto-brew, even though at the time it felt as if it wouldn’t be so hard to make coffee in the morning.

I am even more grateful when Tipsy Evening Swistle was on duty the night before, because then sometimes also the sink and stovetop are clean, and several loads of laundry are done and folded and put away, and there is egg salad. Or whatever. I mean, it’s not always egg salad and a clean stovetop. Sometimes it’s brownies and clean counters, or diced red bell pepper and a clean cat water fountain.

Rob has been not so great to be around lately. Sometimes he’s fine, even very pleasant and funny, but other times he is scornful and dismissive of pretty much everything I say. Sometimes I can shake it off and/or keep responding pleasantly and can even get things back on an okay track, and sometimes I just give up and stop talking, feeling tired and discouraged and like I’m living with someone I would never otherwise be willing to live with, and now he is going to go out into the world and make other people hate to live with him. But he’s so ready to leave home, and this is the EXACT stage of life where the parents are idiots and the hometown is lame, and so I will hope that all of this is more a part of that stage and less a permanent part of HIM.

He was my dinner assistant last night, and he was on a real roll. I kept having to give up at conversations. After one long silence, I brought up a topic I thought he couldn’t possibly scoff at, and praised him for some recent behavior. I was wrong: he managed to scoff at it.

So it was the PERFECT antidote when that same evening Twitter solved my duck problem. To back up a little, we’ve had a weird bird noise in our yard since Friday night, and Paul finally investigated, and he came in saying it was a young duck. So then it was a flurry of panic about the poor duck separated from its family and dying in our yard. I turned where the desperate always turn: Twitter. And my faith was justified, because within literally minutes Becky had contacted a birder friend of hers, Deb, who, without seeing a picture of the bird in question, and acting only on my information that (1) it was a duck, and (2) it was brown, and (3) it was about the size of a football, and (4) it was making unpleasant quack/blarp sounds, she suggested it might be an American Woodcock. AND IT WAS. It WAS INDEED an American Woodcock!

That was a pretty significant thrill: not only to have something like that happen, where it almost feels as if something magical or psychic has occurred, but also not to have to worry anymore about rescuing the poor little duck! It is not a duck! It is an American Woodcock, and it is JUST FINE! The whole thing reminded me of the time we had torn the house apart but couldn’t find our kitten ANYWHERE, and I said so on Twitter, and someone responded with the suggestion to look in drawers (neither Heidi nor I can remember if it was her, so if it was instead YOU, speak up), and I opened a drawer and there was a sleeping kitten in it.

Also, if you are feeling sad, I recommend reading descriptions of birds. “Superbly camouflaged against the leaf litter.” “Distinctively plump shorebird.” “The underparts are buffy to almost orange.”

I have a happy story about insurance, and that feels like such a rare thing to be in possession of, I bring it straightaway to you as a little shining treasure for us all to huddle ’round, warming our hands in the glow. It is about CAR insurance, which is not as rare or good as a story about HEALTH insurance, but we take what we can get in these odd times.

Our car insurance renews on April 1st. We’ve been with the same company for years and years (before Rob was born, I’m pretty sure, and he’s 17), and I know the routine by now: the renewal reminder comes with the next year’s cards, more than a month before it’s needed. This year I didn’t even open it, just put it aside for when I was ready to pay it.

I was forgetting that this year we have a new driver on our policy. I was also forgetting that back in January, the insurance company emailed and said that in order for Rob to maintain his Good Student discount, we’d need to fresh proof, and that proof was due February 7th. I replied with an attached pdf of his PSAT scores and never gave it another thought.

If I HAD remembered all of this, I would have opened the envelope right away, to make sure there was plenty of time to fix things if they hadn’t gone right. But alas. I pay bills on Saturday nights, and this past Saturday was the Saturday night before April 1st, so I got out my credit card and opened the envelope—and thought “Ohhhhhhhhhh riiiiiiiiiiight.” The total seemed high, but it WOULD seem high: in the last year we’ve added a new driver AND another car to the policy. I checked and there was no mention of a Good Student discount—but maybe it wouldn’t be listed? I wasn’t sure.

I went to the computer to contact the company, and I stopped first at my mail folder to find the email where I’d attached a pdf of his scores, so that I could refer to the date I’d sent it. Annnnnnd I found it, in my drafts folder. My DRAFTS folder. NEVER SENT.

I was completely flummoxed. I sometimes save a draft of a personal or business letter if I want to read it one more time before sending, but I couldn’t think of ANY REASON AT ALL why in this case I would have saved a draft instead of sending right away.

This is when I panicked and hit “Send.” Which was dumb, because if I hadn’t done that, I could still have acted like it was all just a big mystery. “What, you didn’t get it? But I sent it back in January!” Instead I was all “ACK ACK ACK IT DIDN’T SEND, IF I SEND IT FAST ENOUGH MAYBE IT’LL GET THERE TWO MONTHS AGO!!!”

Then I sat there, feeling immediate sender’s remorse. Combined, of course, with the dismay of seeing “draft.” I went back to the email to look again at the date the paperwork was due—and it was STILL in drafts. IT HAD NOT SENT. The page had done the reloading thing it does when an email is sent, but it had NOT BEEN SENT. This explained everything, which was good, but was also MADDENING: it was NOT MY FAULT, and yet I was the one in EXPENSIVE TROUBLE!! And what was I going to say? “Oh, my email thing messed up and didn’t send”? No. It would be difficult to think of something that sounded MORE like a lie, and yet I was witnessing it before my very eyes: I sent it a couple more times, and each time it reloaded without sending and without notifying me that it hadn’t sent.

This was where I started saying to Paul, “You know, worst case scenario is we don’t get the Good Student discount this year. It is not the end of the world.” It is good to say soothing words at such times, even if those words are desperate lies that fool no one.

I logged into my car insurance account, found the Contact Us section, and sent a breezy note. I pretended I had the same temperament as my brother, who does not get ruffled about things. “Oh heyyyyyyyy just wondering if you guys got those documents about the Good Student discount or if maybe it’s already on there and just doesn’t show or what, you know, whatever, I’m absolutely relaxed about this either way.” Then I went back to the kitchen and explained to Paul how many levels of stupid I felt: I didn’t check to make sure they got the documents! I didn’t open the stupid envelope! And now here it is, EASTER WEEKEND, with the payment due in less than a week, and I’m all “Oh, hey guys, LAST-MINUTE PROBLEM ON A HOLIDAY WEEKEND, and it’s all my fault except for the part that sounds like a lie.”

(This is where, when I was telling this story to my mom, she said, “This had better start getting happier soon.”)

I expected to get an email back saying “We did not receive the documents, and now it is too late.” Furthermore, I expected to get that email in about a week, AFTER I’d already had to pay for the policy. Instead I got an email EASTER MORNING, saying “I checked into it, and I don’t see any documents. You can send them to us via any of these several methods.” No mention of it being too late. No snarky remark. Perhaps SHE was also pretending to be HER brother.

And so I sent the pdf to the email address mentioned. I expected it to save as a draft, but instead it actually sent. I got back an automatic email confirming receipt of documents and saying it could take 5-7 days to review them. I expected that, after review, they would email saying that unfortunately the deadline had passed, or that the documents were not acceptable. Instead, I got an email THIS MORNING, less than 24 hours later, informing me of a change to my policy—and, when I logged on, I saw the Good Student discount had been applied.

I don’t mind telling you that my eyes WELLED UP with stunned gratitude. In all my worst-case/best-case scenario-building, I NEVER thought of the scenario where I would contact them, they would ask me to re-send the documents, and then they would just…give me the discount. My imagined best-case scenario was the one where I would beg for leniency and they would reluctantly grant it, possibly with some unpleasant wording that would cause me to have imaginary arguments with them later. My second-best best-case scenario was the one where they would say no but be nice about it and sound sincerely regretful, and where I would breath through my nose and have a shot of brandy and manage to make “It’s only money / It’s only money / It’s only money” work for me. Instead I have the Good Student discount, and it was easy, and they were nice.