Modern Banking: Mischief Managed

Not surprisingly, the whole Quicken mess looked a lot less imposing this morning, even though I didn't get the best sleep last night.

My account matches up for more than a month's worth of transactions, and what last night I was seeing as a "huge discrepancy" was actually $80-odd -- not that much, and the adjustment was in my favor.

So I did a manual balance adjustment to my Quicken register, made sure the bottom line showed the same in both records, and have called it good.

I've also figured out how to use the "match" "unmatch" and "manually look up" options in the download processing tool, so I think I'll be okay going forward.

Just to make my financial life even more interesting, I got a phishing email supposedly from my bank this morning telling me there had been an unusual amount of failed log-ins to my account and please click here to log in and go to the customer service center.

I don't think so.

I called customer service, just to be sure, and the email has been forwarded to the fraud department and deleted from my inbox.

I am declaring multiple victories.

Levitation Spell Fizzled -- Failed Her Dex Save

So Wolfling went to take the garbage out about an hour ago. . . and about ten minutes after she'd left the doorbell rang, and it was one of the little neighbor kids, who said "Your daughter got hurt."

The Queen of Swords notes that the messenger isn't panicked, so I figure it's probably not too bad, but I take off at a brisk jog toward the dumpsters.

Wolfling told me she had climbed up on some kind of metal protrubance in the wall or on the dumpster itself, launched herself into the air. . . and mis-judged her landing. She wasn't able to even stand up at first. Now, both ankles hurt, and she can't put any weight on one of them.

There's no swelling, but I've given her ibuprofen and put bags of frozen corn on her ankles. I'm waiting for a callback from her doctor to see if this requires her to be seen. It doesn't seem emergency-room worthy, and the office is closed.

No big drama. . . . But not a lot of fun either.


ETA: Doctor called back. We have to go get x-rays. "It's probably okay, but we like to be sure." Wolfling says she only jumped from a height of 2-1/2 or 3 feet and is regarding this more as an irritating-now but will-be-a-good-war-story incident.

Back from Hospital

Wolfling is fine. She has some bone bruising, but nothing serious. She has a pair of crutches she thinks are cool. I keep warning her to slow down or she'll really injure herself.

The hospital trip unfolded exactly as I predicted: several long waits, an x-ray (although it was done by a digital imager they rolled into her room), and then sent home with instructions to take ibuprofen, stay off it as much as possible, and expect it to clear up in 3-5 days.

I'm pooped.

I'm going to work from home tomorrow. I have several meetings, all of which are scheduled as phone conferences. I can do that from here as easily as at my desk.

At the hospital, one of the admitting nurses drew me aside to quietly compliment me on Wolfling. I can't remember all of what she said now, but she did say that I should be proud of her, and they see all kinds and my kid was exceptional.

As we pulled into the garage, I let out a sigh about the long evening and how when all was said and done not much happened at the hospital, but at least now we know nothing is seriously wrong. In response to which, Wolfling said seriously: "Thank you for caring enough to take me to the hospital." Which I thought was very sweet.