I no longer have a ten foot long hole in my wall. So I got that going for me.
(Plumbing that doesn’t leak: Good. Cat locked in bathroom for 3 days: Bad. Seeing the debris from the last time the wall was opened lazily dumped in the space behind the wall: Bonus.)
…
That’s it. I am officially not going to have fun any more. Fuck it. In the middle of Dragon*Con, I got a call telling me my mother had been taken to the hospital. If she’d waited 30 minutes more, she coulda died. But by the time I got the call, she’d been stabilized. And lets not forget that after 3 great trips with friends and family, all in one month, I get the shit kicked out of me by a condition I should not have and doctors can’t explain. And while I’m cooking Thanksgiving dinner for friends, I get a call telling me that my father had been taken to the hospital the night before, also on death’s door. (Again, stabilized and in ICU by the time they called). So no more fun for me, ’cause all it means is some bad shit is gonna happen. Heee…
I wish I could really be that dramatic.
Yes all those things sucked beyond belief. But for better or worse, I handle that kind of crap with relative calmness. I didn’t fly off the handle, because what good would it do. I didn’t hop the next plane to home, because each time I heard, it was already past the tensest hours. And each time, I was literally surrounded by friends, doing something that made me feel good. That’s what I really needed. (And most of you are out there. So… thank you and stuff.)
But holy fuck, if anyone out there is listening: I really don’t need anything more right now.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
Of all the boneheaded…
iPhoto — my photo management software — isn’t allowing me to drag more than one photo at a time. But I need to drag all my recent photos to a new folder where i can sift through them. What does the problem turn out to be, preventing me from dragging more than one photo at a time?
“If you’ve disabled or removed the font Helvetica, you won’t be able to drag a selection of photos in the Organize pane, though you can still drag a single photo. “To drag multiple photos, enable and/or replace the Helvetica font.”
If you’re gonna put a form on your web page that checks to see what people are entering in the fields, and won’t let them move on to the next field unless they complete the first one properly, then… …give the user feedback as to what they’re doing wrong so they can fix it!
Or… you know…. tell them how to do it right in the first place.
Otherwise, they may spend valuable time cursing you, trying multiple web browsers, and calling you, all to figure out why the hell they can’t use your form.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
It’s stupid. There’s nothing about being sick that isn’t ridiculous or stupid.
I get struck out of nowhere with a condition abnormal for someone in my age and fitness, and the doctor’s can find any cause. And it can’t just be a run of the mill thing. It’s got to be something that could of knocked me dead if not for … nothing in particular. A little blood clot gets stuck… somewhere. No rhyme or reason.
The doctors treat me, and yes the pain is goes away and they give me drugs to keep it that way. Drugs which affect me more strongly than my doctor has ever seen in anyone else. To the point where for three-plus weeks, I can’t stand, walk, carry, or roll over without being in extreme pain. This is all caused by the drugs meant to save my life.
(Incidentally, what moron at the drug store puts the heating pads on the bottom shelf where you have to bend to reach them? Took me 5 minutes to work up the energy and will to grab one, after giving up on a store clerk coming by.)
When my back does mostly stop hurting, it takes another week or two before I can even walk strait, because the rest of my body is recovering from the stress it was under. There’s a 104 year old woman living in my building who could have beat me in any race.
I have to pay for these drugs. And probably much much more, since Medicaid refused to help me with the hospital bills, for reasons only a lifetime bureaucrat could comprehend. So I will spend the next few years mailing the hospital some obscenely large checks. Checks which will make it unlikely that I can afford to get insurance. The lack of which is kind of what got me here in the first place.
And while I loath the thought of taking these drugs through next spring, the thought that’s already gnawing at me is “what happens after I stop the drugs?” No one knows what caused this last time.
I’m not depressed or in shock or whatnot. These aren’t even the worst thoughts I’ve had. But I’ve been trying for a while now to put them into written words. So yeah… now that’s done.
Please keep in mind that this post is more than 6 years old. Who the hell knows what I was thinking back then?! Damn kids... get off my lawn!
