Jinx!

I'm not superstitious in the black cat, broken mirror, salt over the shoulder way. I'm not afraid to walk under a ladder, I think that seeing an owl in the daytime would be kinda cool, and I have no plans to kill any sparrows. Friday the 13th? Another day. However, I do have a certain kind of superstitious nature. I believe one can tempt fate. I believe that if one talks about good fortune too soon he can jinx it.

Yesterday, that's what I did.

In the height of the afternoon, before the day was out, I celebrated my luck. I had had my cell phone battery replaced for free and discovered the noisy neighbors below were moving. Hurray, I thought, what good fortune! I wrote posts, sent e-mails, and performed somersaults. Well... I mentally performed somersaults. I was giddy with glee. Until nightfall.

With some small power restored to my days-dead cell phone, I checked messages before leaving the new battery to charge overnight. I had one. From my landlord in Nashville.

After a management shift at my place, new property manager Jonathan had called to inform me that my rent check, received on time, had been rejected. Someone (or something) had warned him not to accept checks from apartment 11E.

Now I've never bounced a rent check or had one rejected, but my roommate has. More than once. My roommate is, in fact, notoriously bad with finances. I, on the other hand, am not. I am meticulous. So to hear that my check was being rejected by association was a blow. But that wasn't all. If the situation wasn't corrected by the 5th, a hefty late fee would be attached.

It was the 5th before I retrieved the message.

Now, on Saturday the 6th, I'm arming for battle with an apartment complex almost 2,000 miles away. Because it’s the weekend, Jonathan isn't in the office, but a girl named Teresa tells me that our apartment is flagged in a computer which doesn't distinguish between roommates. Explaining the importance of that distinction was fruitless; "the computer" would not budge. If the previous management knew how to override the block, new management does not. Or, rather, it is not willing to. Instead, Teresa told me, I could pay by credit card. I declined and left my number for Jonathan, to continue the effort on Monday.

Which brings me back to the cell phone. Reassured by the flashing "Charge Complete!" screen on its face after leaving the it to power up overnight, I turned my phone on this morning to discover that the new battery was no better charged than the old one had been. Fearing the worst, I trudged back to Verizon with the phone, the receipt for the battery exchange, and the charger in hand. One look at the no-brand charger I'd bought at a mall kiosk early in my visit was all they needed. "Crap!" they proclaimed it and promptly sold me a new one. I didn't get out free this time, but I should be thankful: with some companies, killing the old battery with an unlicensed charger would have made me responsible for the new battery cost, too. At Verizon, it didn't.

A new battery is now powering up on a new charger and the results look promising. When Jonathan calls on Monday, I'll be able to take the call. And I'll still have some money in my wallet if I can't talk him out of the late fee.