I just got stung by my own disorganisation. This happened in two ways.
The first way is that I forgot to pack clean underwear and clean socks for the week. I survived today using the trusty “inside-out” technique, but that isn’t entirely savoury these days, and isn’t going to get me through another two days. I will be off to the mall shortly to find some kind of bargain basement knicker supply.
The next way arrived while I sat in the mall car park waiting for a hail storm to pass. It came in the form of an email from the bank telling me that we had overdrawn on our account.
I said some expletive things, checked the account activity, and saw a recurring international payment to Amazon listed. I called Cowboy, certain that we were the victims of fraud and theft and other terrible things. As I expected, he had nothing to do with it. What dreadful person had poached my information and used it to buy an Amazon Prime subscription in another country, of all things?
Well… me, it turned out. I had attached my US debit card to my UK Amazon account some time ago, and hadn’t thought anything else of it, and my binge-watching of Nashville last summer had been supplied through an Amazon Prime subscription on my UK Amazon account. I hadn’t even imagined that it would renew by helping itself to my US dollars. Of course, the US bank slapped us with a fee or two for the privilege.
To Amazon’s credit, I could cancel my UK subscription service with just a click of a couple of links, and they will even be refunding the fee in full because I hadn’t used any of the services since paying. Thank you for not being bastards, Amazon, it is very much appreciated. The whole incident prompted me to make some thoughts about emigrating to the USA, and all the stupid stuff you don’t even think about in the throes of romance. Continue reading