Hubs just fucked things all up for me and I AM NOT HAPPY!!!

One month ago:
Hubs: “What do you wanna do for your birthday?”
Me: “Paint the bedroom and bathroom. Don’t take me out to YOUR favorite restaurant for MY birthday. Don’t waste money we don’t have. That is all.”
H: “Wanna go to a beef and beer?”
M: “No, I hate them and I don’t want to hang with your sisters on MY birthday. I am planning on going to Donna’s or hanging with Linda”
H: “OK”

This morning:
M: “So….for the next two Saturday nights, you’ll be on your own. Whatcha gonna do?”
H: “What do you mean ‘two Saturdays’?”
M: “Next week I rescheduled the party ( I had to cancel a small party due to the weather) and the  week after that I’m going to Donna’s for Linda’s and my birthday.”

This afternoon:
H: “Here” (hands me two tickets) We’re going to a beef and beer on the thirteenth”
M: “WHAT THE FUCK??”
H: “What? I thought it would be cool to go out and do something different.”
M: “You don’t drink beer and I have plans!”

I MARRIED A FUCKING MORON!!!!

Can ya tell I’m not happy?
I am trying to unload those tickets…fast!  $25.00 a piece for something I don’t wanna do and he won’t drink beer!!!!! What was he thinking?????

Men, when your woman’s birthday comes around, do something nice or nothing at all!!!  Take us to a new restaurant….NOT YOUR FAVORITE!! If you ask her what she wants, CHOOSE THAT! Believe me, she’d rather have a bottle of bubble bath from the Dollar Store, a plastic flower, or even have you order pizza for dinner one night without her having to ask you.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Those of us with pets love them like they were our children.  We take the time to come up with the ‘perfect’ name. We notice the little things that would distinguish your own bulldog from three other nearly identical bulldogs. We give them a place to sleep and buy them toys. Some folks will be happy with that. Many, many others go that ‘extra step’.

Spoiling.

Bandit is as spoiled as they come. I can tell you why too. My own kids were independent from the get-go. Before they ever reached school age, I knew which ones never wanted breakfast. I knew how much it annoyed one to be woken up by mom, prompted to hurry up and asked if they had all their papers.  I knew which one wanted some chitchat.

Bandit has no such requests.He loves the ’smothering’.  He wants me to sit down so he can sit on my lap. He wants his ears rubbed. He likes to be warm. Oh boy, does he like to be warm.

We got our gas/electric bill for the month of December. It was nearly $150. higher than usual. Since I am here alone in the daytime, I like to snuggle with the pup on the couch, under a blanket, watching a movie with a cup of tea or cocoa. My night sweats and hot flashes make me want the heat turned down all the time. I love the weight and feel of a warm hoodie, a thick sweater, and fluffy socks. How did it go up so fucking high??

I finally put two and two together.

Bandit will sit in front of the heater. Not just near it. Not just in front of it. ALL UP IN IT. If he got any closer, he would be sliced into quarter inch little slivers. He hears the heat come on and runs to the heater, and sucks it all up. When it finally starts to cool a bit, he will run back to me and snuggle again, or he will curl up on his couch.

Today, it’s cold–or ‘Fucking Cold” according to my weather page.

I made sure to put his warm jacket on when he went out to pee, but I pulled it off him when he came back in. (After much whining and trying to get away from me!) I felt bad and since I was also taking away the heater privileges, I let him wear his sweater. He’s not very happy with me, but an extra $150? I could use it in my pocket!

We will now see if the bill goes down. We will also wait and see if Bandit can find a way to get at the heater. Because I don’t think the cold is going away any time soon….

I awoke to sound of a man’s voice. (Hey, I’m leaving now *kiss*  The tax papers are on the desk.)

I then stretched langorously, ready to ease myself into my day. (Where’s that remote? Oh, under my butt…)

I watched tv for a few minutes but was lured by the aroma of coffee into the kitchen. (Mmm. I hope they left me a cup…DAMN! tantalized again!)

I took a moment to gather my breakfast, eager to sit and enjoy the silence. (Eggs sound good…Crap! They used the skillet and no one washed it yet! Cereal then. With barely enough milk to moisten the shredded wheat.)

As I settled  into my chair, the phone rang. Perhaps a friend wants to have lunch? (Hello, this is Susan from the CVS. Your prescription is now ready to be picked up.) I returned to my seat and began to eat,(Mmm…sodden wheat!)

I did some laundry and decided to walk on my treadmill. I will start to prepare for summer. I will walk longer than I did yesterday. I will even add a few situps! (*gasp* Only three minutes? HOW FAR??? *gasp* Omg. My boobs are sweating so bad! *wheeze* If I die now, no one will find me for another 7 hours! Fuck the situps!)

A shower is incredible when you know that the entire house is empty. I can shave, suds myself up, moisturize…truly take the time to pamper myself. Ahh, hot water! This shampoo smells sooo good. (*SPLAT* What the– Bandit! What the hell are you doing in here?! Get out! Ow-ow-ow-ow!! SOAP IN MY EYES!!)

I resigned myself to cutting the shower short. I will simply settle for giving myself a mani/pedi. I gather my polish, clippers and pumice to begin. I sit on the couch (In the spot that Bandit chose to lay in while he was dripping from the shower!!)

I will NOT let this get to me. I return to my polish. My toes look cute. (*blurgh, BLURG* OMG! BANDIT! DON’T PUKE!!)

Rushing to grab a towel, I hit my toe on the table, I grab the towel, catch the puke, smear the polish off of three fingers, notice that the polish has toppled onto the table and is rolling toward the edge. I rescue the bottle, and end up sitting on the floor in the middle of the room.

My life is too fucking glamorous for words.

When the diverticulitis first struck me, I went to “T” Hospital because it was the closest. None of my usual doctors are there, but at the time, the pain was so bad that I HAD to go there. I was amazed that the tests were done fairly quick for a weekend. I had gone in around noon, had a CAT scan, was diagnosed and in a room by dinner time.  For me, that is an unusual thing. I am used to sitting for 3 hours or more in the ER with my kids, or waiting around only to be told that no testing is done on weekends. (Except for severe things) Since the doctor that treated me was there, I went to “T” for the colonoscopy too.

On that day, I went into the Short Procedure Unit and gave my name. The man at the desk already had the chart I had filled out in the Doc’s office in his hand. I signed my consent to be treated and was immediately ushered into Room 2. In Room 2, the nurses took my blood pressure, temperature, and asked me a few health history questions. This took ten minutes…tops. Into Room 3. In bathroom off to the side, I put on my gown, and hung my stuff up on a hook. Coming out, I was in the procedure room. IV went in, I rolled onto my side and I was done. When I woke up, I was handed a drink, they took my blood pressure and handed me my clothes. After I dressed, they took my blood pressure one more time and I was good to go.

That was it.

Yesterday (and all the other times) I went in for my back injections. I enter “F” Hospital. I must go to the main desk and tell them I am here. The old woman tells me to go across the hall. (Duh, I do this every week. Plus I have done this for the past four years that I have been getting this done) Across the hall, the woman gathers all of my insurance info. They check my address, phone number and Social Security number. EVERY SINGLE WEEK. They have computers. They have all of this in front of them and yet, we must do this every week. I sign papers and then I am told to go upstairs to the Short Procedure Unit.

In SPU, I am given a gown, I get changed and then they take all kinds of medical history. What meds are you on? Any history of this or that? Why are you here? EVERY WEEK. None of this ever changes. These women see the same people over and over week after week. Hubs and I are getting to know their faces too. We all see the same doctor. We all do the same procedures. Sometimes the nurses even ask us about our vacations, kids, spouses and if we are still taking “X” medicine or if we had “Y” procedure that we had chatted about last year. Really. That’s how often some of  us are there. And then I sign more papers.

After they ask these questions, we sit in a holding area for an hour or more. Yes, an hour or more. Finally, someone comes to get us and we go to another holding area where they put in an IV, ask us more questions and make me sign more papers. the doctor comes in to say hello and prove that he is sober(I assume). He puts little x’s on my back and I am wheeled into the procedure room.

When I awaken, I am in yet another room where I will stop being groggy and lay there listening to the nurses’ idle chitchat. After a half hour or so, (an additional 20 minutes for each shot I may need for pain management) I am taken back to the the SPU. I get some juice and they take my blood pressure and temperature and oxygen reading. I eat a few crackers and they take my blood pressure and temperature and oxygen reading. I am finally given my clothes and after I dress, they take my blood pressure and temperature and oygen reading.

THEN they will make sure my ride is there and let me leave.

Two hospitals. Two hugely different methods of intake. I don’t understand this. At “T” Hospital, when I told them how surprised Iwas at how quickly things were managed, they were shocked to hear how long things took at the other hospital. At “F” Hospital, they were amazed at how quickly “T” handled business. “F”’s nurses were convinced that somehow “T” was running a less than efficient SPU by cutting corners…somewhere. They agreed with me that all necessary info was gathered  by both hospitals. All steps were taken to insure my health. But I had gone in for a procedure and got out within an hour and a half…tops. For the shots, while I will concede that it is very different procedure, the intake should not be all that different or more complicated.

Why can’t my info be saved until next week? Why can’t they look at it and say “has anything changed from last week?” So much of what they do seems to be redundant. I wonder how much money could be saved by cutting it down to a a clean routine like “T” Hospital seems to implement?

Is this part of why our health care costs so much? Or is this a sign of  ‘Health-care-yet-to-come’?

Short Procedure? PFFFTT!

Today, I give yo my interpretation of ‘green’.

and

Take a few minutes to check out “Green” with Ren, Finn, Robin and Bluepaintred.

In October, I ended up in the hospital suffering from stomach pains.  The diagnosis?  Diverticulitis. Small little pockets grow on the sides of the intestines and manage to catch all the little things that you might see in a groovy shit. (Raisins, nuts and oh yeah, corn) It is manageable and mainly depends on carefully watching what I eat. This new way of eating consists mainly of avoiding nuts, seeds and many raw vegetables. ( I must say that my snacks of choice are popcorn, a handful of nuts or any kind of berry-mainly blackberries. These are now considered no-nos.)

But the best was yet to come….

It was necessary to endure a colonoscopy. Ah, yes. The supreme violation of my delicate, virginal asshole.This was not something that I was excited about so I put it off. Past Halloween. Past Thanksgiving. I was feeling great so I decided to ignore it altogether. But alas, the holidays are chock full of hidden dangers. Walnuts, almonds and peanuts are everywhere in brittles, cookies, and chocolate covered delicacies. I indulged in them all. A week before Christmas I had to see the doctor who told me that ‘we’ would schedule the test for the 23rd. Not the 23rd of January, but of December…..two days before Christmas.

Fine. What the fuck ever. Let’s do this.

Anyone who has had one, can tell you that it is not the procedure itself that is the -pardon the pun- pain in the ass. It is all the ‘prep work’ that sucks. It is the little, bitty pills that cause your stomach to cramp and your bowels to clench in pain.  It is the clear fluid in the little green bottle-magnesium citrate to be exact- that causes your intestines to turn themselves inside out.

The doctor told me to drink one bottle of hellwater at 7am. This ended up being a whole fiasco on it’s own. That shit was horrid!!!  On my countertop, I lined up the hellwater, a tall glass of Gatorade, and then a glass of water. I downed as much as I could without throwing it all right back up. Quickly, I pass on to the Gatorade, which only served to give me a funky taste and feel in my mouth. Appalled, I rushed to the water to rinse my mouth.  You know when you are drunk, and you know that you are going to throw up? That hideous rush of saliva into your mouth? The rapid succession of breaths that come out like Lamaze? Yes, my friends. That is what happened. I had to hold it together, because guess what? If you don’t do this procedure ‘just so’ the hospital may end up giving you an enema. 

Uhhh, yeah. Not for me.

Within half an hour, every bit of food that had EVER crossed my lips in my entire life seemed to be shooting out of my ass in a deluge. I don’t remember anything after I sat on the toilet. The white-hot cramps seemed to lift the top of my head off and stars crossed my vision. I stayed there long enough to read two full chapters of a book I was reading. No lie! (Heh! I almost said ‘no shit’)

Later on in the day, I took the diuritic pills and then repeated the  horror of the hellwater at dinner time. Believe me when I tell you that I lost 15 pounds that day. Ask Hubs. I made him look at the scale because I thought I was delirious!!

The next day, I went to the hospital and I was in and out in no time. (Yes, I said “in and out”)  They put me to sleep and I woke up when it was done. I couldn’t believe that all that prep was needed for something so fast!

The bad news was that I had a couple of polyps. The good news was that they removed them. The better news was that there is no cancer. But worst of all?

I get to do this all again in one year. Don’t worry. I won’t forget about it or ignore it.

Hubs made sure to ask the doctor’s office to send a reminder in November. 

Ilovemyhusband.Ilovemyhusband.Ilovemyhusband……

and then

I make no excuses. I’ve said it before and ranted before….

I hate grocery shopping.

Hubs and I went out for breakfast this morning, and just like always, we planned our day. Neverending paperwork, and new tax period office shifting for him. Repotting a few plants and laundry for me.

“But first,” said Hubs, “We need to stop and pick up sugar or we’ll never be able to drink our coffee.”

Good thinking! I also needed dish washing detergent and a birthday card so we stopped at the supermarket on the way home.

We laughed as we chose a birthday card for Shenanigans. Our favorite soup was on sale in the “10 for $10″ aisle so we grabbed them. (A savings of roughly .75 a can!)  We grabbed our bag of sugar and as we left that aisle we found ourselves surrounded by shopping carts and lots of people looking at……MEAT.

The sale is “Fav 4 for $19.99″. Normally, when they have this sale, Hubs and I take advantage of the savings. However, we usually shop later in the evening or even later in the week. There is often ground meat and sometimes chicken. Always hotdogs and sometimes ready made stir-fry. There is never a selection like today. We are never there at 11 am on a Sunday. This will never happen again.

We bought boneless chicken breasts, sweet Italian sausage, and ground meat. We bought a 20 pack of beef franks and lemon garlic turkey tenderloins. Not included in the sale, but still a great buy all the same- London broil 2-pack for $8 (gorgeous and thick-we bought two packages)  and a pork package for $15 (12 boneless pork center cuts and a nice sized pork roast). I grabbed my cell phone and told Son1 to get his ass out of bed and take Shenanigans to the store and buy her some meat for her birthday!!

I bitch all the time about leftovers being thrown away and it took me 30 years of marriage to get this right. I got home and separated every package of meat. I individually wrapped every single chicken breast and pork chop. This means that I can take out three if I need three, or six if I need six. No need to cook a whole package and throw some away. I turned one pack of ground meat into meatballs and froze those. Another was turned into six mini meatloafs. And yet another was separated into 1 pound pieces just right for ‘Hamburger Helper’.

All in all, we spent about $70. My freezer is filled to the brim. I have dinner until…..whenever I run out.

Things are tough over here. Business hasn’t picked up much. Even though $70 sounds like alot, it really isn’t when you think of how we tend to shop. I may run into the store for ‘just chicken’ or ‘just bread’ and I end up walking out of there with all kinds of sale items that I really could have done without. All of that meat means I can relax about what to have for dinner. The individual packaging means things will thaw easier. Now that I have spent that money, I  have meat to pair with all the fucking mac and cheese, au gratin potatoes, frozen vegetables, and french fries that I have bought during all those other “sale” days.

You have no idea the relief I feel about not having to shop, or plan, or list……

*Ahhhh!* Now….what to have for dinner?

My laptop went into  ”GeekSquad General Hospital”  for a week.  I needed to get to the root of the problems that she has been having.  So once she froze ( I was unable to shut her off at all!)  I took her in ‘as is’.  The geek looked her over and said,  ”Hmm…”  He touched her buttons and proclaimed, “There is only one crash listed here.  There is picture,  audio, quick response,  and to tell you the truth, I don’t see any major problem.”

Of course there isn’t anything wrong!  The system had just been rebooted.  Does that erase any log of previous crashes? I don’t know.  I hadn’t had audio for two weeks and suddenly, Voila!,  he gets it right away.  Even though I had gotten  ’black screen’  repeatedly,  he got a well behaved laptop.

And so, he kept her for a week to try to replicate the crash,  to tweak the system, and to clean that dirty, dirty bitch.

During the week, I had to use Hub’s computer. Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, except that….

He downloaded a ‘Trojan”.  It was wonderful.  My thoughts were to try a reboot and if it didn’t work,  just suck it up and pay a geek to come to the house and look it over.  But we are talking about a man.  Not just any man, but  my “I-can-do-anything-if-I just-play-around-with-it-long-enough” man.  He pounded buttons.  He deleted programs if he never heard of the name.  He went into the control panels. (He is LESS computer literate than I am!!)

From 10pm until 2am, the sounds of clicks, sighs, and restarting computers emanated from the den. I was startled from my sleep by shouts of “What the fuck?”  “Are you kidding me?”  “No, No, No!!” and my personal favorite “You will obey me!”

Eventually, he came to bed and I was finally able to sleep.

When I woke up, I poured myself some coffee and Hubs came into the kitchen to get his cup too. “You can check your emails before I use the computer. Just make sure you wait until each page loads completely before touching a button.”

He had done it. It worked….sluggishly, but it worked! We went to the store and bought a new security program which he installed -all by himself!  And it is still working!! However, as far as my blogging was concerned, it was far too slow for me to use without getting extremely frustrated.

And so, I pined for the return of my baby.

I got her back last night and so far, she is acting like a new laptop.  She is speedy.  She is getting along with all of her programs.  I can hear movies and CDs and videos.  She shuts off and turns on right away.

I didn’t get charged.  But I have been instructed to bring her back – again, ‘as is’ -  if anything should happen again.  No rebooting,  no battery removal, no slamming her against the floor.

I guess now I can tell you about all the other  ‘procedures’  happening around here……

Just one thing at a time.  I don’t want to overwhelm her.

and