The people who posted my name and number was my web host, Computer Partners. Anyone that went to A Place to Fly over the past couple days were greeted with:

_________________

This Page is OFFLINE Contact Linda G**** at (111) 123-4567

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Computer Partners (aka compar) had replaced my placeholder 404 with that, and locked me out of my account so I couldn't change it. I wasn't informed that they were doing *any* of this. They finally replaced my personal info today, so now I can talk about this in detail. *sighs*

On July 5th Gayle noticed that PtF was down, and told Mike. Mike came home and told me. Checked the site via browser, nothing there. FTPed into compar and discovered that all my files were gone. All that was left was 2 folders, empty. I freaked, and asked Mike to call compar about it as I was too furious to make the call myself.

Over the next couple hours we were told that they had no backups since April (they advertise 3 backups per week) and we would have to restore the site from our own backups. It was also implied that we had deleted the files. Mike mentioned that we hadn't received a bill and gave compar the new address.

We found a local backup from April and restored the site as best we could. The next week we received a bill from compar. It was mailed on the 6th of July. I would have expected a written apology for their fuck up, and perhaps an offer of a free month hosting. Instead I got a bill.

At this point I decided I didn't want any of my site on their servers anymore. I shut PtF down on July 9th, leaving the following 404:

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I am sorry to announce that A Place to Fly will be closed until we can find a new host. As some of you might know, on Thursday July 5th, 2001, I discovered that all the files had been deleted from the server. When we called compar, we were told that they did not have any backups for several months. We had to restore A Place to Fly from our own backups.

To add insult to injury, I have received a bill from compar today where I would have expected an apology. It has become very obvious to me that I am dealing with a disreputable company that has no interest in positive customer relations, or in admitting their mistakes, and offering solid solutions.

I apologize for the removal of this site and hope to be back online ASAP.

Linda.

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According to compar they did apologize. Also as my placeholder 404 was so offensive to them they felt they had the right to remove it and put up my full name and phone number "so people could contact Linda if they needed to". I don't argue that they had the right to remove my 404. I do think they proved themselves to be all the things I said they were in the act of putting my personal information out for all and sundry to see. They have my email addresses, there was *no* reason to put my phone number up there. Mike was also informed that it was our responsibility to backup our site, and they didn't have to maintain their 3/week advertised backups.

*sighs* I've found another host for PtF, and as soon as the DNS propagates my site will be back online. I wish there was a way to make compar understand that what they did wasn't right, and to my understanding illegal. I just don't have the income to hire a lawyer and force this point.

Just to clarify a few points about the situation:
-There was no contract with compar. I signed up with them via my roommate who was their webmaster at the time. I gave him a cheque, he took it into work with him and set up my hosting. Nothing was signed and there were no "OK" buttons pressed.
- To the best of my knowledge compar doesn't have an AUP or TOS. The information I have about them is via their 'hosting packages' page. That's *it*.
- The only paperwork I have from compar is 2 invoices. Bills.

All I have to say now is that I hope compar goes under. I don't want to have anything more to do with them ever and I regret that I didn't change hosts when my roommate left their company. Bah.

Later..

Yesterday I went to a BBQ in Guelph for a web site I don't visit much anymore. For the most part I enjoyed myself and met a couple people I'd really like to get to know better. Gayle and I went over earlier in the afternoon, so I had the opportunity to observe myself as more people arrived. I think I was my most comfortable when it was just 4 of us sitting around, eating and having a fascinating girl chat session. As the night went on and more people arrived, I found myself getting quieter and quieter.

I find in situations like that, where I don't know most of the people there IRL I get really nervous about coming across as stupid. I *know* better than that, but that's the way I feel. So I end up filtering most of what I say and do. Didn't help that I was the only smoker. I get nervous that even tho I go outside I'll still reek when I come back in. I don't want to offend, see. =/ Enh.

One thing that still bothers me is the whole 'net conversation. I was starting to tell our hostess about the banana nut muffins I brought with me. (I think it's really cool that this fabulous recipe is a specialty of a B&B somewhere in the states.) Anyways, I was saying "I found the first recipe on the 'net..." and that's as far as I got. The girl beside me said " 'NET?" in a tone that I use on people that don't have a clue. I don't remember the specifics of the rest of the conversation, but I came away with the impression that I had done some terrible faux pas in using " 'net " instead of "internet". Maybe I'm being overly sensitive, but god, that annoys me. In the grand scheme of things I've been using the WWW version of the net since 1995, and I dabbled with BBSes in 1990. I figure after 6 years (or 11, depending on how you look at it) on this thing I can call it whatever I damn well please. I'm not some newbie luser lacking a clue so I don't need some relative stranger using the newbie luser tone of voice on me. Granted, I'm probally being a cranky middle-timer about it all. ;)

The other thing was age. About midway through the evening it dawned on me that I was at least 3 years older than everyone there. Someone was talking about a Sesame Street skit with Bert and Ernie, and almost everyone remembered it. I didn't. I feel awful about it but there was a part of me that wondered if the reason I didn't remember the skit was because I wasn't watching Sesame Street anymore at that point. My Sesame Street had the great counting song 1.2.3.4.5.6.7.8.9.10.11.12! done in trippy 70s orange and brown.

I'm no ageist (at least I hope I'm not!), but I'm starting to realize that age and experience does change perspective on things. I don't think I like that realization. I don't want to become one of those "I know more about life just because I'm older" people. Actually when I think about it I only feel snotty about being older when I'm getting attitude from someone younger than me. A knee jerk reaction of "Oh. You're going to be elitist about that? Well then. I was your age in fucking 1992. Bite me, kiddo." Not very pretty but I do think stuff like that sometimes. Enh.

Gayle is arriving tonight. (or late afternoon, we're not sure yet)

I'm nervous and excited and nervous... and... you get the point. I mentioned to Gayle last night when she called that I still have a ton of cleaning up to do. She doesn't care, but laughed at my statement "I clean for first visits, after that visitors better be coming to visit us not the place or my housecleaning!"

At least the *big* stuff is done. I spent about 3 hours yesterday doing dishes. No, we didn't have that many dirty dishes, I'm just a super-freak when it comes to washing the damn things. Today will be for washing the bathroom, setting up the guest room, and general tiding. I really should vacuum as well.

So I'm going to have a cup of java and think out my plan of attack. This will just fly by as soon as I get myself moving. I know because I pulled it off the weekend before last when Mike's parents came to stay with us. I just have to make sure I don't get sidetracked into washing walls or something that can wait.

later...

Note to self and anyone else...

Don't scrub floors with ammonia in rooms with poor ventilation.

That said, my lungs feel clearer than they have in years. Heh. And goddamnit, that floor is *clean* now.

Next up, setting up the guest room. Make the bed, clear out the Sara clutter, and figure out a way to iron the sarong I picked up to be a wall tapestry. Enh, maybe iron it on the bed? We'll see.

Enh, maybe I should rename my journal to "Melesse's cleaning diary"

even later...

Phew. Ok, kitchen is pretty much done all the way down to the floor. Ammonia strikes again! Hey, it's the best floor cleaner in the world. :P

I've been thinking that my plan of attack wasn't exactly the brightest. The living room, you know that area where people usually gather? It's a freaking disaster area right now. The last room to be done, and it's the one people see first, really. Bah. Give me an hour of dedicated cleaning and it'll be as shiny as the rest of the apartment. Er, our bedroom doesn't count. That room is scary. Maybe if I have some time left I'll make the bed and toss some of the assorted clutter into the closet.

Anyways, back to the cleaning. Heh, maybe I'll turn on the cam.

Ok, so I'm finally getting around to washing all the laundry that's stacked up over the past week. Plus all the sheets and pillow cases. We have 2 washers and 2 dryers for the entire building. I figured I could push through 4 loads and then wait on the rest to let someone else in there.

Now I have to wash 2 of those 4 over again. Why? Because our fucking landlord doesn't believe us when we go out of our way to let them know there's something broken. See, last weekend Mike's mom tried to do a load in the smaller washing machine. She came upstairs to let us know that it wasn't working (no water). So we call the landlords. Figure the problem is solved.

Today, I go down and do my loads. I always use warm water. At the end of the first round, I reach into the small washer and notice that the clothes are surprisingly hot (plus there's a strong wet dog smell). I shrug and set them aside as only one of the dryers was free.

I start up the second batch, warm water again and nearly scald myself putting the detergent in. I switch it over to cold - no water - no rinse cycle.

See this is the thing. Mike's mom washes everything in cold water. In other words the fucking washer is still broken.

Also, the way I know that they don't believe us when we say that something is broken is from Fritz, the handyman. He was in and out trying to get our oven to work, and he's a chatty fellow. I mentioned to him that the buzzer wasn't working, after we had told our landlords. He told me that she had said "how do we know it's broken?".

*sighs* On one hand it's nice to have landlords that aren't nosy shits. But hell, when we take the time to ask them to fix something that is not our responsibility to fix, maybe they could believe us?

Currently in our hallway there are two 6' bookcases in the box. We've decided that they're going in our bedroom after we move the bed. Said bed has all my bankers boxes and rubbermaid bins stacked underneath. The space the bed is moving into is filled with unpacked but not put away crap. Plus there's a film of dirty laundry over every available surface in that room.

So! Instead of spending the entire day watching tv, playing on the computer, drinking coffee and smoking like a chimney, I want to get the bedroom set up and organized. I'd also like to rearrange the smaller bedroom.

Tackling the smaller bedroom means I have to go dose up on Claritin and break out the super fantastic vacuum. (It has a HEPA filter, which is a GOOD thing for allergic me.) See...Mike's parents brought out the majority of his stuff that was left in Nova Scotia. Including his futon. The cats and dog in NS liked said futon a LOT, and that household is just filled with allergens, which means all the stuff that came from there is killer for me. *shrugs* So I need to vacuum it ALL down.

Bah. Chores are evil yet a clean house is SOOOO good.

Floating.

Or to use a different metaphor, losing my bookmark in my life. The past few days I've been noticing that I've lost my place in my life again. Just drifting and floating through the day, letting time wash over me and slip away. Forgetting who I am and where I'm heading.

I've done this for years, so it's easy to recognize. I used to blame these periods in my life on the people near me. Placing the blame for my loss of direction on anyone but me. That's what's different this time… it comes down to me and I know it. I just don't know what to do about it. I know I should find my place and get back to it, but there's a part of me that doesn't want to. I'm sick of that part. Heh. That's how I got to be 26 and wondering where the years went. Floating through my life.

Floating is such a lack of connection to the people, places and things around me. Worst of all a lack of connection with myself. I've been spending days sitting in front of my computer reading Bulletin Boards but not posting to them. I've been reading other people's online journals, but not writing in mine. I've been awake but not alive.

I lost interest in my own life again. I got bored and switched the channel to anything else that caught my attention. Ironic that if I wasn't me, I'd be fascinated by me and my life.

So I guess it's time to dive into the life I've been floating in for the past couple days. There's an OAC literature course sitting on my desk, with projects and essays that I want to write. There's a website called A Place to Fly that needs a new host, some fresh submissions, journals and discussions. There's an apartment that I can play with and make beautiful. These are things I want, not things other people want for me.

All I have to do is take the first step. Play some good music that makes me want to move, and start moving. Get up in the morning and have that shower first thing. One step at a time, baby. That's all it takes.

I just started. Now we come to the end of an entry I've been writing in my head for the past 3 days. It's written. Booja.