Toadwort is sick. He had strep before Christmas. He took the antibiotic, religiously. I know it's hard to believe, but he did. Apparently, he is afraid of strep. Good Boy.
Now, he's complaining of a sore throat again, and I've looked at it. Bleck. It's disgusting again. It turned the nurse and the PA green before Christmas, and it's not looking too good now.
It's bad enough that he actually called the doc's today and got another appointment to see them. He stopped here briefly, to tell me that they did culture it and sent it to the lab to see if there's something else besides the strep growing in there. Now, that's a comforting thought! NOT!
Anyway, my mother is now on a jag that he needs to have his tonsils out. Never mind that he rarely got sick as a child (even though he was exposed to just about everything that came down the pike). Nevermind that he's had, including this round of strep, 2 cases of strep throat. He was more susceptible to sinus infections.
Then, again, this is a woman who insisted that he had an ear infection because as an older infant he would hold his ear as he drank a bottle when he was sleepy.
Of course, she went to NBC Medical School--you know, that school where you watch ER whether your friends would all be talking about it the next day or not.
*sigh* She's not a doctor, but she watches them on TV.
Monday, January 07, 2008
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Merry Mumple Christmas
Well, for all intents and porpoises, this Christmas has shaped up to be as wonderful as each and every preceding holiday.
As my father used to sing:
'Tis the season to be figh-ting
Fa La La La La La La La Laaaaaaaa.
It's not really Christmas unless my brother is being a self-centered jerk (this year was my sister's turn to bear the brunt of it--and she, unfortunately, isn't ME, and therefore, will probably stew and fret instead of lambasting him with guilt in January); unless the Gator is looking for a fight; unless my mother's relatives (my aunt & grandmother) are acting *odd* and paranoid; unless Kevin and I are stressing about everyone else and I am hiding in the basement with two packs of cigarettes and a pot of coffee wishing it were all over.
So far, Kevin keeps finding me in the basement and rousting me out and our stress levels aren't quite that high yet (see above where it's my sister's turn to bear the brunt).
We have also shortened the previously mentioned refrain of song (God I miss my dad!) to just the Fas and Las for the sake of family joke, and ease in inserting it into any situation in which the word "figh-ting", even if sung, would be construed as 'faghtin' words'.
So far, my biggest wish is for a nap (there's no rest of the wicked, even if there are gifts a-plenty.)
So, from Mumpleland to you:
Merry *%^$#@@!! Christmas!
As my father used to sing:
'Tis the season to be figh-ting
Fa La La La La La La La Laaaaaaaa.
It's not really Christmas unless my brother is being a self-centered jerk (this year was my sister's turn to bear the brunt of it--and she, unfortunately, isn't ME, and therefore, will probably stew and fret instead of lambasting him with guilt in January); unless the Gator is looking for a fight; unless my mother's relatives (my aunt & grandmother) are acting *odd* and paranoid; unless Kevin and I are stressing about everyone else and I am hiding in the basement with two packs of cigarettes and a pot of coffee wishing it were all over.
So far, Kevin keeps finding me in the basement and rousting me out and our stress levels aren't quite that high yet (see above where it's my sister's turn to bear the brunt).
We have also shortened the previously mentioned refrain of song (God I miss my dad!) to just the Fas and Las for the sake of family joke, and ease in inserting it into any situation in which the word "figh-ting", even if sung, would be construed as 'faghtin' words'.
So far, my biggest wish is for a nap (there's no rest of the wicked, even if there are gifts a-plenty.)
So, from Mumpleland to you:
Merry *%^$#@@!! Christmas!
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
And Another Thing
about my sweetie:
He drives me crazy because if he's watching something on TV or reading the paper, he doesn't like to be disturbed. He has nothing to say, yet, he'll want me to sit with him, doing nothing.
If I don't want to watch what he's watching, he'd still like it very much if I sit with him.
If he's reading the paper, he wants me to not talk (much) and let him read it, but he'd still like me to be in the room with him.
But if I'm watching something he doesn't want to watch, or if I'm reading something, he'll talk to me UNTIL I stop whatever and look at him. Then he'll be quiet.
He will sometimes, though, sit quietly through commercials and talk ONLY during the program.
If that fails, he'll get the phone and call someone to talk to. Then, he'll sit next to me, while I'm watching TV, and talk REALLY REALLY LOUDLY. And mostly during the program. If I mute the show, he'll leave the room. If I leave the room, he'll follow me.
The Upside to this is that I don't watch much TV. The Downside is that unless it's Law & Order, he'll do this almost EVERY time.
Then he gets upset when I spend *too much* time on the computer, or I stay up late to be able to watch what I want to (or read) without interruption.
It's irritating, and in all the time we've been together, I cannot get him to break this habit.
In his defense, he's not deliberately rude like this. And he's not mean about it or anything. He's just annoying this way, and he doesn't get that because HE's not interested, it doesn't mean that I'm not.
Sometimes, I think he's got some subliminal issue with not being the center of my attention.
Sometimes, though, I think that this is some man-gene thing he's got, and that he honestly cannot control it--much like the color of his eyes, or how tall he is.
All the time, though, it's annoying.
He drives me crazy because if he's watching something on TV or reading the paper, he doesn't like to be disturbed. He has nothing to say, yet, he'll want me to sit with him, doing nothing.
If I don't want to watch what he's watching, he'd still like it very much if I sit with him.
If he's reading the paper, he wants me to not talk (much) and let him read it, but he'd still like me to be in the room with him.
But if I'm watching something he doesn't want to watch, or if I'm reading something, he'll talk to me UNTIL I stop whatever and look at him. Then he'll be quiet.
He will sometimes, though, sit quietly through commercials and talk ONLY during the program.
If that fails, he'll get the phone and call someone to talk to. Then, he'll sit next to me, while I'm watching TV, and talk REALLY REALLY LOUDLY. And mostly during the program. If I mute the show, he'll leave the room. If I leave the room, he'll follow me.
The Upside to this is that I don't watch much TV. The Downside is that unless it's Law & Order, he'll do this almost EVERY time.
Then he gets upset when I spend *too much* time on the computer, or I stay up late to be able to watch what I want to (or read) without interruption.
It's irritating, and in all the time we've been together, I cannot get him to break this habit.
In his defense, he's not deliberately rude like this. And he's not mean about it or anything. He's just annoying this way, and he doesn't get that because HE's not interested, it doesn't mean that I'm not.
Sometimes, I think he's got some subliminal issue with not being the center of my attention.
Sometimes, though, I think that this is some man-gene thing he's got, and that he honestly cannot control it--much like the color of his eyes, or how tall he is.
All the time, though, it's annoying.
But
I love this man I married. I do. I truly, honestly, whole-heartedly do.
But
He drives me insane, and I want to hit him with a heavy pan.
He was sick yesterday. Sick enough to call off work and spent his time snoozing in bed. (I've known him 7 years, and he's called off work 5 times total and each and every time, he was so ill he not only couldn't eat, he could barely stand up.)
He was still sick this morning, so he was off work again--who can work when they're running to the bathroom or swaying instead of standing upright? Yeah, that sick.
BUT
He also spent at least an hour sitting next to me this morning, making this pathetic "eeeenh eeenh" sound. He also spent time standing in my way as I tried to get a cup of coffee, and get the Howler fed, ready, and out the door to school.
We played the shower game, too. I wanted to slap the poor, sick thing stupid. I really did.
He admits he's a whiner when he's sick. I hate to tell him, but he's BEYOND whiner when he's sick.
No. Wait. That's not right.
He's fine when he's sick. It's when he starts to recover that he drives me nuts. Thank God he's going to work tomorrow.
But
He drives me insane, and I want to hit him with a heavy pan.
He was sick yesterday. Sick enough to call off work and spent his time snoozing in bed. (I've known him 7 years, and he's called off work 5 times total and each and every time, he was so ill he not only couldn't eat, he could barely stand up.)
He was still sick this morning, so he was off work again--who can work when they're running to the bathroom or swaying instead of standing upright? Yeah, that sick.
BUT
He also spent at least an hour sitting next to me this morning, making this pathetic "eeeenh eeenh" sound. He also spent time standing in my way as I tried to get a cup of coffee, and get the Howler fed, ready, and out the door to school.
We played the shower game, too. I wanted to slap the poor, sick thing stupid. I really did.
He admits he's a whiner when he's sick. I hate to tell him, but he's BEYOND whiner when he's sick.
No. Wait. That's not right.
He's fine when he's sick. It's when he starts to recover that he drives me nuts. Thank God he's going to work tomorrow.
Friday, December 07, 2007
Blahs
I don't know if it's because I used L'Oreal to color my hair or if it's just the monthlies (again), but last night I had a killer headache--which, luckily, an ibuprofen, wrapping my head, and resting my eyes helped--and I just don't feel well.
Since I still feel ill this morning, I'm guessing it's the monthlies. Think morning sickness without the pleasure of knowing there's a good reason you're gagging like a cat on a hairball.
I still have my head wrapped. And I still feel chilled to the bone. Sure, it's cold out, but I get chills like this every now-and-again, even in July. Of course, people think I'm crazy to be shivering in 95 degree temps with 100% humidity. It's pathetic.
And I get tired--sleepy and tired. And the headaches come if I don't nap. I hate it.
I wake up this morning to my Sweetie telling me I must be throwing off some sort of pheremone, too. How's that for terrific? Pheremones to make men want me, and I feel like a bloated sick and dying cow.
I don't get how, if this is what it feels like to be woman, the human race EVER got going well enough to crowd out every other species on this planet.
Since I still feel ill this morning, I'm guessing it's the monthlies. Think morning sickness without the pleasure of knowing there's a good reason you're gagging like a cat on a hairball.
I still have my head wrapped. And I still feel chilled to the bone. Sure, it's cold out, but I get chills like this every now-and-again, even in July. Of course, people think I'm crazy to be shivering in 95 degree temps with 100% humidity. It's pathetic.
And I get tired--sleepy and tired. And the headaches come if I don't nap. I hate it.
I wake up this morning to my Sweetie telling me I must be throwing off some sort of pheremone, too. How's that for terrific? Pheremones to make men want me, and I feel like a bloated sick and dying cow.
I don't get how, if this is what it feels like to be woman, the human race EVER got going well enough to crowd out every other species on this planet.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Please Explain
The thought processes it takes to decide that the stupidest person on the front line is the one who should be at the Customer Service desk.
This woman plays deaf, if you're saying something that means she'll have to do her job.
She also cannot answer the phones. I don't know how many time or how many people have explained it to her, but she can't answer the phone.
She can't take a credit card payment.
She can't process the simplest of returns.
She can't use the phone to call other people.
If she doesn't know something, she says, "I don't know" and leaves it at that. The customers can wander off and find their own answers.
I hate working with this woman. She drives me nuts. It doesn't help that just a few months ago, she called me a *bitch* and a *troublemaker* because she lets merchandise walk out the door without even trying to verify if it's been paid, and because I expect her to help clean the bathrooms and straighten light bulbs if the rest of us are doing. She shouldn't be going home on lies of having the work done, especially if the rest of us are staying to do the work.
I'm waiting for the inevitable day when the store manager comes and asks, "What's going on?" and I get to explain everything that she can't (or won't) do--and that customers are pissed off because of it.
It's hard learning to *be nice* about these things--I got hell on a regular basis when I was thrown to the wolves to learn how to run that desk. I was expected to know stuff that I was never told, never shown, blah blah blah. And here's this Queen of Fuckwits, and we're all supposed to kiss her scrawny delusional ass to help her out.
I'm learning to bite my tongue. I can do that. But to cover her ass, so managment can feel better? I think not.
This woman plays deaf, if you're saying something that means she'll have to do her job.
She also cannot answer the phones. I don't know how many time or how many people have explained it to her, but she can't answer the phone.
She can't take a credit card payment.
She can't process the simplest of returns.
She can't use the phone to call other people.
If she doesn't know something, she says, "I don't know" and leaves it at that. The customers can wander off and find their own answers.
I hate working with this woman. She drives me nuts. It doesn't help that just a few months ago, she called me a *bitch* and a *troublemaker* because she lets merchandise walk out the door without even trying to verify if it's been paid, and because I expect her to help clean the bathrooms and straighten light bulbs if the rest of us are doing. She shouldn't be going home on lies of having the work done, especially if the rest of us are staying to do the work.
I'm waiting for the inevitable day when the store manager comes and asks, "What's going on?" and I get to explain everything that she can't (or won't) do--and that customers are pissed off because of it.
It's hard learning to *be nice* about these things--I got hell on a regular basis when I was thrown to the wolves to learn how to run that desk. I was expected to know stuff that I was never told, never shown, blah blah blah. And here's this Queen of Fuckwits, and we're all supposed to kiss her scrawny delusional ass to help her out.
I'm learning to bite my tongue. I can do that. But to cover her ass, so managment can feel better? I think not.
Sunday, December 02, 2007
You're Sick of It, I'm Sick of It...
and it's only December. Geez.
Yes, dear, it's more rant about the Home Room Mom/PTA thing.
I called my parents tonight. Well, remember that family that signed their daughter up for Girl Scouts but didn't bother to give them a phone number? Apparently too many people--you know, the school and girl scouts--had that number, so they disconnected it and the recording offers no further information. I have another family who has a phone, but no answering machine, and they never answer their phone. I tried for 2 freaking hours to get them, and NADA. I'm sure they're gonna whine how no one called them....
And, yes, that's my paranoia talking.
But on with the PTA thing. One of the reasons I was trying to reach all these people tonight was because the PTA is having a craft day for all the kids. (Personally, I don't like crafts, and I have enough crap, but no one asked me.) I needed to call and get volunteers to be in our classroom helping the children that day. Fine. I called the Head Crafter tonight to let her know, before the deadline of 12/5 that I have 3 yes parents and 2 maybe parents, and that we have 18 kids in our class. I betcha the twit calls me on Wednesday and wants to know, because she hasn't heard from me.
Now, she called last Thursday and told me that the date in the letter she sent was wrong--I knew that, but I did identify myself as the person she needed to speak with when she called. She asked tonight if I did get that message. I informed her, "Yes" and she asked again. So I told her that I was at the PTA meeting, so I already knew the correct date.
I hope she spent the night trying to think who I was....HAH! I am Inviso-Woman, and she'll never see me!
Yes, dear, it's more rant about the Home Room Mom/PTA thing.
I called my parents tonight. Well, remember that family that signed their daughter up for Girl Scouts but didn't bother to give them a phone number? Apparently too many people--you know, the school and girl scouts--had that number, so they disconnected it and the recording offers no further information. I have another family who has a phone, but no answering machine, and they never answer their phone. I tried for 2 freaking hours to get them, and NADA. I'm sure they're gonna whine how no one called them....
And, yes, that's my paranoia talking.
But on with the PTA thing. One of the reasons I was trying to reach all these people tonight was because the PTA is having a craft day for all the kids. (Personally, I don't like crafts, and I have enough crap, but no one asked me.) I needed to call and get volunteers to be in our classroom helping the children that day. Fine. I called the Head Crafter tonight to let her know, before the deadline of 12/5 that I have 3 yes parents and 2 maybe parents, and that we have 18 kids in our class. I betcha the twit calls me on Wednesday and wants to know, because she hasn't heard from me.
Now, she called last Thursday and told me that the date in the letter she sent was wrong--I knew that, but I did identify myself as the person she needed to speak with when she called. She asked tonight if I did get that message. I informed her, "Yes" and she asked again. So I told her that I was at the PTA meeting, so I already knew the correct date.
I hope she spent the night trying to think who I was....HAH! I am Inviso-Woman, and she'll never see me!
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