WHINGE...

It's been a hectic few weeks to say the least. I haven't posted anything because it all just seems so negative and who wants to hear me whinge really? Well... consider this your warning! I'll post shortly about the birth plan meeting and pics but for the moment I'll review why I've been quiet since the 24th.

After the theft of my wallet and the bank accounts being drained you'd think I'd pretty much used up my bad luck for awhile. As it turns out, I must've run over a cart of nuns in a past life. The bank could not start the process of investigating without the police theft report number and cannot reimburse without investigating - ergo, report number is important.

It should've been simple to get the report number - ring the police, get the number, relay to bank. "Should be" is not the same as "is" however. The constable who took the report stuffed up. Royally. I spent the entire week trying to sort the matter out.

First, it'd take a day to process before it was assigned a number. Then another... and another. Then they were confused - they didn't GIVE report numbers, maybe I'd like to speak to a different department? They said I could order a copy but had to fill out forms, pay and 'wait a week or two'. The next helpful person I spoke with flat out could not find any record of any report ever being made and suggested I speak to yet another department. Saturday we were transferred through the ranks to someone I rather hoped had a penchant for chewing incompetent underlings out. (Or up. Preferably into small little pieces...)

After listening to what had happened (and being provided with dates, names and times of those I'd spoken to) he left to see what he could turn up. He called back to say it'd was never filed or lost but either way I'd have to come in to re-report it in person. I can't tell you HOW impressed I wasn't by that. They not only had done zip to investigate, recheck footage at the cafe, check for possible footage or a description from the clerk at the place the money was withdrawn where they might have been on security/atm footage... they didn't even know there was a report TO investigate for a whole week! He'd located the constable who took the report and either lost/didn't file it - apparently not the first time with her - and written her up which of course totally makes up for the stress and delay in being able to reclaim our money with the bank. NOT.

In the meantime Nic gets another call. The senior officer has found the report. It was filed...eventually... it was just lost as it was filed under Acmi Cafe instead of us, so it'd been shoved under a pile of 20 other reports. Good news - I don't have to re-report it and it has a report number. Bad news - I've already left and while I'm sitting in the parking lot another police officer comes up and asks for my licence. I tell him he's not going to believe it (and he doesn't) but it was stolen - I even have the police report number (albeit as of only 5 mins ago) so he can confirm. He queries if I know why he's asked for my licence. Um. Well. No. To be honest I'm not sure what I could have done while sitting in a parking lot for the past several minutes.

"Your car registration is expired."

HuhsayWHA? *blinkblink* NO WAY. I look dumbly at the sticker as my brain is struggling to do the math before I oh-so-intelligently manage, "But I haven't got any renewal notice...?" He does a search and informs the car is registered to our old address, which is irrelevant because it's not Vicroads job to inform us it was due. (Mind you our old address is the one we've not lived at in almost THREE YEARS... and which I did inform VicRoads of. I know because I've got the paperwork and rego sticker here last year, my licence was posted here etc!!!)

It dawns on my poor befuddled brain the date it expired was the date the fire reached 8kms away from us and I'd been preoccupied with possibly loosing everything and maybe even me if I couldn't hook up the trailer and dogs quick enough. Not that I wasn't already quite worried given the previous week of knowing the fire was close, knowing some who who were in affected areas, throwing out my back, the normal gripes you have at this stage of pregnancy (nasty braxton hicks/prelabor ouchies etc disrupting sleep), a funeral, the wallet being stolen and bank accounts drained, trying to postpone bills, reorder cards/licences, convinced Nic's work to forward pay half of the fortnight he'd already worked so we had some money and pinnacle of joys - trying to get sense out of a dozen different departments of the Vic Police for a week to get the report number to start the process of getting our account credited. Thinking to randomly look at the little car registration sticker on the passenger side of my car and read the writing backwards from the inside was the last thing on my mind!

I've babbled out the story and he's flatly uninterested, continues droning out the details of the fine, I'm sure thinking something like, "Geeze, can't this lady even come up with a halfway plausible story instead of something that crazy?!" (Hey, I'm living it and I almost don't believe it!) I look down at the fine... $600... and my brain flatlines on me. I'm miserably attempting not to break down and manage to tell him that the whole string of crappy happenings aside, the absolute irony is I was only even there because I was told I had to REreport the theft because the constable who took the theft report didn't file it and no one could figure out which end was up for a week. Officer Charming just replies, "Well. I'm sure we'll catch the person.... don't worry, it's just money!"

By the time I've got home I'm exhausted, I've had enough of things going badly for the past few weeks and my hormones are staging a coup - they're fed up with my practical, rational side insisting on dealing with things and are staging a proper Sook-fest like it or lump it. Some thief steals everything and the police can't even bother to file a report correctly or investigate but they sure are on the ball when it comes to making my life more difficult! (Got to love those late pregnancy hormones!)

After my sook, I ring VicRoads. The lovely lady on the other end informs me my registration expired. I'm aware of this and point out we never got the renewal notice. She informs me it's registered to our old address and when I point out we've not lived there 3 years come April she replies, "Oh... we should have been notified." They were notified. "Oh. Well if we were notified, then our computers must not have refreshed." I then point out if their computers hadn't refreshed I'd be years out of registration - not mere weeks. The previous notice was sent to our current address and the sticker that just expired likewise, so obviously I DID provide it and it was effected. She agrees this sounds just a bit weird, she chats with her manager and tells me I have grounds for filing a grievance with Vicroads for their error. I need to send copies of the report, reference the conversation recording number and write it out.

To boot, I've ended up with a few days of some sort of food poisoning? bug? which granted me a acquaintance with our bathroom. Nic couldn't get off either so let me inform anyone who hasn't had the pleasure that being sick, 36 weeks pregnant, BH's/prelabor/back out, with a hyper 3 year old, paperwork/red-tape and normal household stuff it's even less fun than you might imagine! ;p ;p ;p

Thursday I figured I'd be past the contagious stage if it was the flu and was still tired but well enough (read: I had a pulse) I wanted to go to agility. (Hopie had done SO nice the week before!) Murphy still being in a peevish mood, when La was throwing the ball for the girls that morning, Hope and Verity reached it at the same time and Hope pulled up sore. Nothing bad but I didn't want to run her sore and actually cause an injury, so I took Si so I could still go through the exercises. Bad news - dogs who've not gone already gone through foundation with this club cannot participate in foundation as a substitute. My instructors kindly volunteered to play the role of 'my dog' so I had fun but poor Si was so dejected... she'd taken one look at the agility equipment and began singing with joy, only to have me tether her and go play click-n-treat with a human instead! Quelle horreur!!!