This weekend I accomplished this:
1) Taking Wikus' cat to the vet (she's the sister of Whoopis) to determine why she is "self-barbering." Answer: Who knows. This is what I expect from vets these days. Hey we got a problem and we're going to pay you to tell us what it is. Ah, you don't know? Hmmm. Interesting. I'm sure if I had some mysterious ailment, doctors would play the same game with me. We know she doesn't have mites or fleas, but she may be allergic to something, so Wikus has to give her an antihistamine. If that doesn't work, full blood panel and urinalysis. There better be nothing wrong with her because I won't be able to deal with another death in the family.
2) Watched all my DVRed shows to clear the queue.
3) Two naps in two days.
4) Started "The Children's Book," by A. S. Byatt (just finished "Chronic City," by Jonathan Lethem). The Boy just spilled a can of water on it, but swears he didn't. Guess we'll have to blame a cat. It's a first edition, fourth printing, so I am not going to freak out over it. I'm not her hugest fan, so this isn't like the time The Boy left my first edition, first printing of "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" by Susanna Clarke sitting in the Orange Lover's favorite place to pee. That was anger inducing. He had to find another one for me, and couldn't get a white cover, only a black cover. The peed-on one lived in the garage for awhile until the smell got better, then it sat on the bookshelf. I eventually gave it to my gorgeous Amazonian friend, who may or may not have read it, but is pretty sure her husband did. She has two boys and works like 60 hours a week. She claims she can only read while brushing her teeth. I've met her boys and absolutely believe this to be true.
5) Watched the first six episodes of Mad Men with The Boy. I don't hate it, I don't love it. It was fine for what it was, and it was a joy to see little Connor trying to be a man and not be all feral vampire-slayer. If I didn't see another episode, I wouldn't cry over it. I'm sure we will watch them all, though. There's a trend in this house for a certain someone to poo-poo television, but then get addicted to it when you can watch it on DVD or Netflix. Funny that.
6) Not showering. That's right, didn't take a single shower this whole weekend. I thought about doing it after waking from my nap at 6:15pm today, but then felt that was kind of pointless.
7) Did my taxes in under 10 minutes and am getting a hefty refund. Wikus chided me for letting the government have an interest-free loan on my money. I totally understand the point, but psychologically, I enjoy getting a lot of money once a year. I realize it is MY money and I could have had it in an interest-bearing account, but that just doesn't seem as fun to me. It's stupid, I know. Also, I learned that most of my friends have way more diverse financial situations and have CPAs. The Boy does, and I don't get involved in his taxes (always one extension filed, sometimes two). I never moan about taxes, since mine are so damn simple.
8) Wikus brought over Inglourios Basterds, which was a great Sunday night romp. I suspect some revisionist writing, but it was far more entertaining than what the writers of The Tudors have been churning out for us.
9) Consumed tons of allergy medication. More than will ever be good for my liver. At autopsy, it will be concluded that I did not die from allergies but from poisoning my liver as a really slow suicide. Here's to you Benadryl, Allegra, Zyrtec, Aleve, Celexa, iron and vitamin C pills! I love each and everyone one of you; especially you, iron pill, for making my poos green.
Showing posts with label allergies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label allergies. Show all posts
24 January 2010
22 January 2010
For Your Enjoyment
Text Messaging With Boss
6:40am, Me: Allergies so bad. No way I can operate car much less smaller tasks. Almost gave insulin to wrong cat. Aiming for 9/10am.
9:40am, Me: Argh. This is terrible. New plan. Come down before noon to handle payroll/w2s. Then stay as long as my evil allergy overlords will let me. How are you?
9:43am, Boss: I am doing okay. Hope you get better.
9:46am, Me: When people come to you panicked saying Death has been spotted in the building, comfort them by saying it is just me.
9:47am, Boss: I will do that!
9:48am, Me: Sweet. You may also want to assure them that I am not carrying the plague.
______ Later, upon arrival in the office _______
11:45am, Me: People are scattering and screaming whilst shouting, "Death! Death!" I keep raising my arm and pointing at them. Funny
My Bad
Ex-Cop (shouting at me from his office while I'm hunkered down below my half-wall): Are you a golf-person?
Me (popping up and giving him the stink eye): Excuse me?
Ex-Cop: Are you a dog...puppy-person?
Me: Oh! Yes. I like puppies (thinking to myself: shit, my bad, not golf, dog!).
Ex-Cop: I'm going to email something you might like then.
Me: Ok, great.
______ Later, I rouse myself to check my email _______
Ex-Cop's email:
You probably don't clean your computer screen very often
and it is really hard to do the inside,
so here is my present to you.
Click on the word "here" above and wait for a few seconds and the inside of your screen will be cleaned for you!
Old Women and Animal Prints
Why is it that old woman really enjoy animal prints? Especially leopard? This one lady in my literature volunteer class was wearing a leopard-print blazer and pointy leopard-print kitten heels. Excessive! And to mentor 6th-graders who have home tattoos and babies. Baffling.
In Other News
The psychologist is upping my anti-anxiety/depression meds in hopes that I am less moody and can get out of bed in the mornings.
The seahorse mosaic now lives in my kitchen window.
(That's a small black bear on the table.)
Wikus is going to be moving to a new apartment right down the road. Not so he can be down the road from me, but so he can have a porch. This is very high on his life list.
The Boy totally accidentally sliced my knee through my awesome blue tights when he was vigorously waving away a nice little happy fart I sent his way. His fingernails seriously need to be trimmed, but he won't do it claiming he needs them for the guitar. He actually drew blood. There's blood on my tights on my knees, and I am not an 11-year-old.
(Awesome tights for an awesome dress with awesome shoes.)
The Boy is obsessed with The Tudors. It is a perfectly tolerable show if you had not previously spent a whole semester taking A History Of England class with the best professor in the whole world. Instead of enjoying the show, I have to sit with my computer fact-checking, because Showtime seems to know a different version of England's history than what I know. Seriously. Wolsey did not commit suicide in the Tower of London. Please don't believe everything you watch on television! Also, very important annoy-the-fuck-out-of-me factor: The first season has good ol' King Henry VIII doing a voice over during the credits, and he says something like, "To know a story, you have to start at the beginning" or some crap like that. The thing is, the fucking Tudors don't fucking start with King Henry VIII. Was it so hard to start with the War of the Roses and King Henry VII? This seriously makes me angry, and am glad it has been dropped in season two. I can stop shouting at the show from the very beginning, and can usually last at least 20 minutes in to it before I start grumbling about plot points.
6:40am, Me: Allergies so bad. No way I can operate car much less smaller tasks. Almost gave insulin to wrong cat. Aiming for 9/10am.
9:40am, Me: Argh. This is terrible. New plan. Come down before noon to handle payroll/w2s. Then stay as long as my evil allergy overlords will let me. How are you?
9:43am, Boss: I am doing okay. Hope you get better.
9:46am, Me: When people come to you panicked saying Death has been spotted in the building, comfort them by saying it is just me.
9:47am, Boss: I will do that!
9:48am, Me: Sweet. You may also want to assure them that I am not carrying the plague.
______ Later, upon arrival in the office _______
11:45am, Me: People are scattering and screaming whilst shouting, "Death! Death!" I keep raising my arm and pointing at them. Funny
My Bad
Ex-Cop (shouting at me from his office while I'm hunkered down below my half-wall): Are you a golf-person?
Me (popping up and giving him the stink eye): Excuse me?
Ex-Cop: Are you a dog...puppy-person?
Me: Oh! Yes. I like puppies (thinking to myself: shit, my bad, not golf, dog!).
Ex-Cop: I'm going to email something you might like then.
Me: Ok, great.
______ Later, I rouse myself to check my email _______
Ex-Cop's email:
You probably don't clean your computer screen very often
and it is really hard to do the inside,
so here is my present to you.
Click on the word "here" above and wait for a few seconds and the inside of your screen will be cleaned for you!
Old Women and Animal Prints
Why is it that old woman really enjoy animal prints? Especially leopard? This one lady in my literature volunteer class was wearing a leopard-print blazer and pointy leopard-print kitten heels. Excessive! And to mentor 6th-graders who have home tattoos and babies. Baffling.
In Other News
The psychologist is upping my anti-anxiety/depression meds in hopes that I am less moody and can get out of bed in the mornings.
The seahorse mosaic now lives in my kitchen window.
(That's a small black bear on the table.)
Wikus is going to be moving to a new apartment right down the road. Not so he can be down the road from me, but so he can have a porch. This is very high on his life list.
The Boy totally accidentally sliced my knee through my awesome blue tights when he was vigorously waving away a nice little happy fart I sent his way. His fingernails seriously need to be trimmed, but he won't do it claiming he needs them for the guitar. He actually drew blood. There's blood on my tights on my knees, and I am not an 11-year-old.
(Awesome tights for an awesome dress with awesome shoes.)
The Boy is obsessed with The Tudors. It is a perfectly tolerable show if you had not previously spent a whole semester taking A History Of England class with the best professor in the whole world. Instead of enjoying the show, I have to sit with my computer fact-checking, because Showtime seems to know a different version of England's history than what I know. Seriously. Wolsey did not commit suicide in the Tower of London. Please don't believe everything you watch on television! Also, very important annoy-the-fuck-out-of-me factor: The first season has good ol' King Henry VIII doing a voice over during the credits, and he says something like, "To know a story, you have to start at the beginning" or some crap like that. The thing is, the fucking Tudors don't fucking start with King Henry VIII. Was it so hard to start with the War of the Roses and King Henry VII? This seriously makes me angry, and am glad it has been dropped in season two. I can stop shouting at the show from the very beginning, and can usually last at least 20 minutes in to it before I start grumbling about plot points.
28 December 2009
Grocery Shopping
Since these past four days were almost exclusively sleeping and napping-on-the-couch days, I was practically forced to go to the grocery store after work today. The good thing about shopping after work is I am already up and out of the house, and I pass it on the way home. It wasn't even that crowded; thug, giving me time to think about various aspects of the store. Specifically, why is there an "Ethnic Care" section? Does this bother just me as a middle-class white person? Or is it offensive to black people and everyone else who the grocery store may think is "ethnic?" I was very puzzled why the aisle can't just be, you know, HAIR CARE.
I kept hearing bird noises in the store, but noticed it was one of the worker's walkie-talkie. The grocery store sometimes does have birds in the rafters, but usually in the summer. However, much to my extreme delight, I turned down an aisle and there was a lady grackle on the floor totally nipping in to some bag of food on the floor. Go lady grackle, use those resources! She wasn't making any noises--was too busy eating.
Monday seems to be a stocking day. So there was a lot of dodging around pallets and giddy employees who seemed more busy flirting than unloading boxes. I don't begrudge them their grocery-store romances, which really just means I was in a pretty good mood. A bit incongruent considering how much I hate the grocery store. Therefore I'm just going to chalk it all up to the fact that for the past two days (at least) I have been napping between 2pm and 5pm; so my body must have thought it was dreaming.
I did get annoyed at the check-out line. There was no wait, but for some reason the cashier didn't start scanning my items until I had FULLY UNLOADED my cart. Just stood there, kind of staring in to space, and waited and waited and waited. Then when he started to finally scan my stuff, the bagger then barks, "plastic, paper? HELLO!" At first I was taken aback by his gruff demeanor, then I realized he was mentally challenged. Neither the check-out guy nor the bagger could figure out how I had gotten everything in to my cart, and were packing it all willy-nilly until finally asking for my assistance. I'll forgive the bagger, since he obviously had issues, but come on checker! Stack the 12 packs of water on top of each other, fool.
On my way out the door I set off the alarm. The jovial man at the door made me go through the gate a few times to ascertain if it was me or something in my cart. Seems it was me, at which time he started asking where my clothes came from. Seems The Gap or Old Navy has tags in the clothing that are still active for my grocery store's security system. Isn't that neat? I got to dance for this man in front of a whole line of people and be grilled on where I buy my clothes. That is so damn fun. I even had to show him the inside of my jacket, which got a "Huh, I don't see anything..." He finally let me go with a parting, "Well, see if you can find that tag before you go to Wal-Mart, or they will totally call you a thief." To which I responded, "No worry there, I won't be going to Wal-Mart," and he whispered in my ear, "They are totally evil aren't they?"
What a wise door guard.
Immediately after having some dinner, I fell sound asleep for two hours on the couch. Fun how much control my body has over me. At least I'm not sleeping at work. Yet.
I kept hearing bird noises in the store, but noticed it was one of the worker's walkie-talkie. The grocery store sometimes does have birds in the rafters, but usually in the summer. However, much to my extreme delight, I turned down an aisle and there was a lady grackle on the floor totally nipping in to some bag of food on the floor. Go lady grackle, use those resources! She wasn't making any noises--was too busy eating.
Monday seems to be a stocking day. So there was a lot of dodging around pallets and giddy employees who seemed more busy flirting than unloading boxes. I don't begrudge them their grocery-store romances, which really just means I was in a pretty good mood. A bit incongruent considering how much I hate the grocery store. Therefore I'm just going to chalk it all up to the fact that for the past two days (at least) I have been napping between 2pm and 5pm; so my body must have thought it was dreaming.
I did get annoyed at the check-out line. There was no wait, but for some reason the cashier didn't start scanning my items until I had FULLY UNLOADED my cart. Just stood there, kind of staring in to space, and waited and waited and waited. Then when he started to finally scan my stuff, the bagger then barks, "plastic, paper? HELLO!" At first I was taken aback by his gruff demeanor, then I realized he was mentally challenged. Neither the check-out guy nor the bagger could figure out how I had gotten everything in to my cart, and were packing it all willy-nilly until finally asking for my assistance. I'll forgive the bagger, since he obviously had issues, but come on checker! Stack the 12 packs of water on top of each other, fool.
On my way out the door I set off the alarm. The jovial man at the door made me go through the gate a few times to ascertain if it was me or something in my cart. Seems it was me, at which time he started asking where my clothes came from. Seems The Gap or Old Navy has tags in the clothing that are still active for my grocery store's security system. Isn't that neat? I got to dance for this man in front of a whole line of people and be grilled on where I buy my clothes. That is so damn fun. I even had to show him the inside of my jacket, which got a "Huh, I don't see anything..." He finally let me go with a parting, "Well, see if you can find that tag before you go to Wal-Mart, or they will totally call you a thief." To which I responded, "No worry there, I won't be going to Wal-Mart," and he whispered in my ear, "They are totally evil aren't they?"
What a wise door guard.
Immediately after having some dinner, I fell sound asleep for two hours on the couch. Fun how much control my body has over me. At least I'm not sleeping at work. Yet.
22 December 2009
My Life in Snot
Since spending my evening in the sticks with all that cedar, I have been very sick. Each passing minute I feel worse, and it is all allergies. Meaning, it won't kill me, I just want to die. Desperately want to die. Or at least bore holes in my cheeks and the roof of my mouth.
Today the allergy index is at 8, which is considered medium-high. Now, how about this for some fun?
Wednesday: 10.2 (RED ZONE)
Thursday: 7.9
Friday: 9.7 (more RED ZONE)
I'm just the luckiest, snottiest girl to have every lived. And let me tell you something, if another person laughs at my sneezing and carrying a box of Puffs Plus with Lotion around with me, and commenting, "Well, you are living in the allergy capital of the world!" I'm going to shove every single cold, wet tissue up each and every one of his/her orifices and I'll let the snot just pour out of my nose and yell, "Who's the stupid one now, asshole?" Then I'll sandpaper the edges of his/her nostrils and crack each one of his/her upper molars so he/she can feel exactly how I feel. So there.
Today the allergy index is at 8, which is considered medium-high. Now, how about this for some fun?
Wednesday: 10.2 (RED ZONE)
Thursday: 7.9
Friday: 9.7 (more RED ZONE)
I'm just the luckiest, snottiest girl to have every lived. And let me tell you something, if another person laughs at my sneezing and carrying a box of Puffs Plus with Lotion around with me, and commenting, "Well, you are living in the allergy capital of the world!" I'm going to shove every single cold, wet tissue up each and every one of his/her orifices and I'll let the snot just pour out of my nose and yell, "Who's the stupid one now, asshole?" Then I'll sandpaper the edges of his/her nostrils and crack each one of his/her upper molars so he/she can feel exactly how I feel. So there.
22 October 2009
Day 2 of Art & Snot
Our garage is a dirty pit. We have cleaned it so many times, yet, every time I go in there, it is like it never happened. I blame a lot of this on The Boy who a) keeps filling it up with packaging from his ebay and craigslist habit (those guitars don't keep in small boxes, you know), and b) we have lots of boxes of clothes for donation, and paint cans that need to be taken to a place that will accept them--both of which The Boy promises to take care of but is way too busy to actually make that happen. Usually too busy with all those toys he keeps buying. Then we can blame our little orange lover and all the towels he urinates on each night. We let them build up for awhile next to the washer until we've run out of towels to give him to urinate on. Then there's also all those magazines The Boy is hoarding. He doesn't like to admit it, but he can't throw a damn thing away. So the garage is full and dusty. He has his own studio, and I get the trash room that isn't heated nor air-conditioned. Complain and moan, complain and moan.
Today I woke up with a migraine. I was literally blind with pain, and had a terrible time using my cell to text my boss that I would be running late. I ended up texting her twice because I needed more time to get my eyesight back and my stomach out of my throat. It was storming outside, and I could tell that the temperature had dropped significantly, which equals allergy hell for me. So I slept about 4 more hours, and Mattress ended up sitting on half my face for most of the time. I'm sure this did not help my lungs, but damn, it was so nice cuddling with such a fat Siamese. I also believe he managed to NOT drool on me, which is an accomplishment for him.
I managed to eek out 6.5 hours of work, while dying on the inside. ECL lectured Twit on his feeling of the public option and healthcare. If I feel really nice one day, I'll post what he said. It is abhorrent. Damn socialist really gets his hackles raised. It must be hard to be ECL. I felt so dizzy and full of mucus that I knew going in to the garage was not going to be F*U*N. However, I did my best to overcome this by 1) listening to a mix of the Raveonettes, 2) taking Klonopin and Zyrtec and 3) texting with Flammo. I may have been sucking back a lot of snot and rubbing glass grit across my nostrils with each swipe at my nose, but damn, I really did make the best out of a bad situation.
Here's the run down so far:
Day 1: Wedding Present mix and 2.5 hours of work
Day 2: Raveonettes mix and 2.5 hours of work
Here is what I have so far (it is 12" x 45", it is absolutely HUGE):
When I came back in to the house, all dirty with fingers covered in drying glue, this is what greeted me:
Nothing like Lumples airing his empty ball sack. I don't believe him for one second that he plans on using that red exercise ball at any point. Though, I like how he likes sleeping next to it. It's very audacious. Like he's daring me to call him out on his laziness. Little does he know that mama can totally top his on how lazy one can be. I don't even pretend I'm going to do anything more with that ball than roll it in to Mattress, because that really makes him angry. HA!
Today I woke up with a migraine. I was literally blind with pain, and had a terrible time using my cell to text my boss that I would be running late. I ended up texting her twice because I needed more time to get my eyesight back and my stomach out of my throat. It was storming outside, and I could tell that the temperature had dropped significantly, which equals allergy hell for me. So I slept about 4 more hours, and Mattress ended up sitting on half my face for most of the time. I'm sure this did not help my lungs, but damn, it was so nice cuddling with such a fat Siamese. I also believe he managed to NOT drool on me, which is an accomplishment for him.
I managed to eek out 6.5 hours of work, while dying on the inside. ECL lectured Twit on his feeling of the public option and healthcare. If I feel really nice one day, I'll post what he said. It is abhorrent. Damn socialist really gets his hackles raised. It must be hard to be ECL. I felt so dizzy and full of mucus that I knew going in to the garage was not going to be F*U*N. However, I did my best to overcome this by 1) listening to a mix of the Raveonettes, 2) taking Klonopin and Zyrtec and 3) texting with Flammo. I may have been sucking back a lot of snot and rubbing glass grit across my nostrils with each swipe at my nose, but damn, I really did make the best out of a bad situation.
Here's the run down so far:
Day 1: Wedding Present mix and 2.5 hours of work
Day 2: Raveonettes mix and 2.5 hours of work
Here is what I have so far (it is 12" x 45", it is absolutely HUGE):
When I came back in to the house, all dirty with fingers covered in drying glue, this is what greeted me:
Nothing like Lumples airing his empty ball sack. I don't believe him for one second that he plans on using that red exercise ball at any point. Though, I like how he likes sleeping next to it. It's very audacious. Like he's daring me to call him out on his laziness. Little does he know that mama can totally top his on how lazy one can be. I don't even pretend I'm going to do anything more with that ball than roll it in to Mattress, because that really makes him angry. HA!
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