Getting the oldest child ready for college entails all of the zany fun one would expect. This weekend, for instance, we’re planning an Ikea run so he can get an idea of what sort of desk, bed and shelving he wants for his apartment space.

Then there’s the financial aid. Due to various circumstances, I ended up being the parent doing the “Parent PLUS” loan. Okay, that’s fine, but the last stage in that process (after we emailed various PDFs and DOCs back and forth with the financial aid office) involves dealing with the StudentLoans.gov website. The idea is that one can fill out the promissory note electronically.

Sure, you can. Riiiiight.

Actually, we know it can be done: Wendi was able to do it just fine. Since things changed to require putting my neck in the financial noose, however, I had to go through the process as well.

And it looked like it worked, at first… kind of. I got through it all, everything looked kosher, but when I’d go to look at the “Completed” section… nothing. I exchanged email with the financial aid office, who advised a particular method of getting results (accompanied by vague comments about how “the site’s been having problems lately,” no, really?) so I tried again. And again. Yes, I tried different browsers; this isn’t my first rodeo, Mr. Stark.

Eventually I was given a number to call. Which was off by one digit,  so I was then given another number to call. The helpful person on the other end gave me… yet another number to call. Finally I worked with someone who could help me through the process properly. Great, now we’ll get results!

Only, no, we didn’t. Exactly the same results, even with the expert on the phone. “Huh, that should’ve worked.” You don’t say.

“So, what I need you to do is to print this out and overnight it to…”

Great. Mind you, there’s nothing to print out after the process fails, so let’s go through it one more time… turn the “proof” preview into a PDF… then print that out (pages and pages of inscrutable legalese)… then visit the FedExKinkosBananaFannaFoFanna after work and spend thirty dollars to overnight the silly thing to Alabama.

All of this over a document that was supposed to take five minutes to complete, for free, online. Ah, progress.

Why, at the ripe age of thirty-eight, am I still dealing with a facial complexion straight out of my teen years? Maybe I need to invest in a new brand of facial cleanser, because this morning’s acne outbreak is ridiculous. Even normally, however, I have to fight to keep this under control. I’m never going to look my age, am I…?

I guess I truly am staying young in some fashion… other than just mentally, that is. (“Right now, I’m five.” “Oh, really.” “YES.”)

I sort of let things go for a month there, didn’t I?

It’s not that it was a dull month, it’s that I lacked the energy to write about it. I mean, hey, Spud went to DigiPen a couple of weekends ago, and wasn’t that an adventure! (It doesn’t help that he misplaced his ticket info before getting on the train, then found it again at the last minute… both directions. Smart lad, but he needs some travel experience.) And there’s been game playing, and the occasional amusing outing to random parts of town (like my first trip on the Clackamas-bound leg of the Green Line MAX), but… when it comes time to either fire up the WordPress admin interface or fall into bed, guess what I’ve chosen?

Right.

It doesn’t help that I haven’t yet weaned myself off of Twitter. Not that I want to give it up entirely, but some stuff should go here and not there. That way I can use it best as a direct communication (and light comedy) medium, and use this for writing out the rants and raves that I was once rather good at.

It’s a goal, anyway.

It’s astonishing how much better one’s outlook on life becomes when you realize you’re almost fully recovered from an illness, no matter how minor, on a day in which sunshine and moderately warm temperatures can be enjoyed, however briefly.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled broadcast duck. Er, day.

You know, there’s nothing quite like a vivid dream that you woke up an hour late for work, right before your alarm goes off.

I’m already un-fond of mid-March as it is (given being ill this year, on top of trying not to think about what happened four years ago), this isn’t helping. Argh.