Saturday, April 19, 2008

Weird Sightings

Lately I’ve seen a lot of strange things around town. At first I thought it probably just had to do with the change of seasons and the coming of spring. But then I realized that I’ve been seeing these types of things for a really long time. No, I’m not delusional, they really do exist. Let me rewind here…

I guess I really need to start about 12 years ago. My husband and I were engaged at that time. Since the wedding was going to take place in my home town and I was living in Utah, I was spending most weekends driving back and forth making arrangements for the big event. By the time spring rolled around, I was pretty tired. These things take a big toll, even when you’re young. So one Friday afternoon I was on my way to Wyoming. The interstate crosses over a small river called the Blacksfork along the way, about 60 miles or so west of my home town. As I crossed the river I glanced down, and though it passed by very quickly, I could have sworn that perched there, on a small island in the middle of the river, in the middle of the Wyoming plains, stood a flamingo. That’s right, the tall, pink, curved-billed, tropical bird that only resides in much warmer climates. By the time I had gotten home, I had convinced myself that I was so tired I was hallucinating. (It has happened before, but that’s a whole different story.) I did tell my mom what I thought I had seen, and after looking at me like I'd lost my mind, she gently reminded me that flamingos don’t live in Wyoming. I told her I knew, but I wasn’t sure I was really THAT tired yet. As it turns out, on her way back from Utah, after a trip down to pick up additional supplies for the wedding, she looked as she crossed the Blacksfork, and sure enough, there was a flamingo on the island. It seems a local resident put a plastic yard flamingo on the island as a practical joke. I expect my reaction is exactly what they intended.

Now we fast-forward a while….

A few months ago my husband, daughter and I were driving along one evening. We passed a building that used to be a corner gas station/convenience store, but is now vacant. Parked under the very tall gas station awning that is over the gas pumps was a semi truck. On top of the semi truck’s trailer was a ladder. On top of the ladder was a man hanging a sign on the side of the awning. There was also a second man standing on top of the trailer, holding the ladder steady. Because, you know, we wouldn’t want that ladder to slip. The man on top could fall and get hurt! My first thought was of those emails that go around with all the pictures of people doing stupid things. One in particular I know of is entitled “Men at Work”, and it seems to me it had several pictures included that this scene could have rivaled. My second thought was “Wonder what OSHA would think of that one.” I have no idea what the sign said.

We continued on our journey up the street, when not two blocks later we encountered this:
I know the picture is not very clear. It was taken in the evening as the sun was setting… from a moving car…through a window…with a cell phone…that has a scratch across the lens. It’s bound to be a bit blurry. So, in case you can’t tell what it is, that is a car (a Toyota for sure, though I don’t know which model) with a set of mattresses strapped to its roof. In addition, the idiot driving had the window rolled down (during the middle of winter, remember) with his arm hanging out and was holding on to the plastic the mattresses were wrapped in with his free hand. As if he could prevent them from falling/sliding off the top of that car just by holding on to them. I’d be more inclined to believe a hefty enough gust of wind would probably dislocate his shoulder before he’d be able to keep those things up there. And now the icing on the cake, (and my favorite part). Though you can’t see it in the picture, the man had on a pair of those black driving gloves with the knuckles cut out of them. Because I’m sure they help him grip the plastic oh so much better. My thought was simply, I’m taking a picture of this one.

A couple of weeks later, as I was driving to work in the morning, I glanced over as I passed a Cadillac doing 25 mph under the speed limit. I nearly snapped my spine doing a double-take. In the driver’s seat of this vehicle was an old lady with a blue beehive hairdo (gotta love that one) who was literally sitting about 4 inches away from the steering wheel. She was sitting so close that she was practically laying across the steering wheel, her arms encircling it as if she had them wrapped around those giant rubber balls you buy out of cages in toy stores. I told my mom about this sighting, and she commented that she didn’t think the car manufacturers should be able to make the seats slide that far forward, for safety reasons. I told her that I didn’t think the seat was slid that far forward. The seat back actually appeared to be leaning forward, like it would if you were moving the seat to allow someone in or out of the back seat of a two-door vehicle. The woman looked almost as if she were trapped between the seat and the steering wheel. My mom also reminded me that shorter people have to sit closer to the pedals. I told her I didn’t think this woman was short, since she was sitting nearly a head taller than the height of the steering wheel. We weren’t dealing with the old lady from Ferris Bueller peeking out from between the steering wheel and the dashboard here! Needless to say, I was pretty happy I was able to pass her without incident.

About a week after that, I managed three strange sightings in one day. Actually, all in one crisp, 48 degree morning. As I was on my way to work, I passed a man on a motorcycle. A green motorcycle. Not just green, we’re talking neon lime green. And it was not just the accents that were green. It was the entire motorcycle. The man, at least, was wearing jeans and a black leather jacket, so for half a second I thought he might be a little bit normal. But then I saw his helmet. On top of the otherwise normal, black motorcycle helmet, there was a mohawk. A green mohawk. A neon lime green mohawk. It was a perfect match. Well, at least he was wearing a helmet.

Once I got to work, I found myself waiting in line to get into the parking garage. Seems an elderly man in the first car had no idea that he had to take a ticket to get the gate to open and let him into the garage. As I waited, I happened to glance into my rearview mirror. I thought I saw an Eskimo. That’s right, an Eskimo. Remember, the temperature at that time was about 48 degrees. I didn’t figure it was cold enough to be seeing Eskimos. I turned around in my seat and discovered that the Eskimo was actually a man walking down the street in a fur-lined parka. With the hood up. While wearing shorts. While I didn’t think it was cold enough for a parka, it sure wasn’t warm enough for shorts.

I should throw in here that while watching the Eskimo walk down the street, I also saw a man in a brown suit and tan trench coat, with a red bowtie and a Rex Harrison hat, riding a unicycle down the street. Ordinarily this would fall into the weird sightings category. However, I happen to know this man, and have seen him riding to work on his unicycle every day for the last five years. Suddenly it’s not so weird.

So once I finally got into the garage and got my car parked, I walked to the building. Standing outside of the building smoking a cigarette and chatting on his cell phone was a man wearing a red fur coat. It reminded me of the fake fur rugs that were so popular in the 70’s. In addition to the red fur, he had short, auburn hair cut in a marine-style haircut, a long, auburn, ZZ Top style beard, black-rimmed Buddy Holly glasses, and ears with multiple piercings from top to bottom. The kicker? I overheard his telephone conversation. He was discussing getting a facial, and how fabulous this certain spa is. I laughed all the way in to my office.

Just two days later, while shopping early morning in my favorite store to hate, Wal-Mart, I saw another strange being. Although this one was not strange at first glance. The woman was a checker in the check stand I chose that morning.

On a little side note, here, can someone please tell me why it is that in Wal-Mart, it can be 8:30 in the morning, and there will be no one else in the entire store, but you still have to stand in line to check out?

Ahem. As I was saying. So I was standing in line to check out, and I noticed the cashier is a very pretty girl, probably 19 or 20 years old. As I was standing there observing, I noticed how very skinny she was. At first I was a bit envious, since, as I’ve mentioned before, I’m not particularly excited with my own weight at this particular moment in time. But the more I looked at her, the more I realized she was not just skinny. She was emaciated. Her face was very deceiving, very pretty and not extraordinarily thin. She also was relatively well-endowed in the chest area, generally not something you see on women who have crossed over into the too thin category. However, I began to notice her thinness with her shoulders. They were the pointy type shoulders that have no padding on them whatsoever. As she turned to put the merchandise of the woman in line in front of me in a bag I noticed that her shoulder blades were very clearly defined. She did have a little muscle in her upper arms, but her forearms and wrists appeared to be just skin-covered bones. She, of course, had a very flat stomach, but the effect was ruined by the fact that her hip and pelvic bones were showing through her skin, and, therefore, through her skin-tight pants. I was kind of happy that the counter blocked my view of her from about the thighs down. I imagine she would not be pretty in a swimming suit. Something like this:
but without the wrinkles and minus about 50 years or so. The thing that was so amazing about this is that, even though I’ve seen pictures of people who are just skin-covered skeletons, I had never seen one close up before. It was a bit disturbing. I suppose she could be one of those people who are just like that naturally. But somehow I doubt it.

Then just this week, on my way home from work, I saw one more idiot driver stopped at a stoplight near my house. I managed to snap a picture of that one as well:
Please ignore the dashboard and the newly-formed crack in the windshield, and the Chevron station in the background. I have yet to figure out how to zoom on my new camera phone. If it’s difficult to tell, that is a small SUV of some sort, with a platform attached to the back by way of the trailer hitch. On the platform is a couch, made heavier, I’m sure, by the fact that it contains at least one recliner. The couch appeared to be heavy enough that it was weighing down the SUV’s rear end. For a few minutes I thought the thing was going to pop a wheelie when it started moving forward again. The couch appeared to have been tied down with only bungee cords, and had no covering over it whatsoever. Did I mention it was snowing at the time?

Finally, the weirdest thing I’ve seen in a long time happened on Easter Sunday. There was a picture taken of it as well:
For those of you that don’t know, that would be my husband on the back of his brother-in-law’s motorcycle. That is his bil on the front. I believe they were imitating a scene from Wild Hogs. My sister-in-law tells me that I don’t really want to know what she had to promise her husband to convince him to get on the motorcycle. I believe she’s right, but I don’t think he’ll ever live this one down.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

Cat Burglars

Recently I read another blogger’s post that talked about all the things that have been lost in her house. She called her house The Black Hole, and proceeded to list the items that had been lost recently. My first reaction: That’s it? Oh I’ve got that beat. Of course it didn’t occur to me until just then that my house also contains an invisible black hole that sucks in unsuspecting stray objects when no one is looking. What’s funny about it is the fact that most of the missing items have absolutely no connection to each other, other than being owned by my family. Apparently the black hole is completely random, and not the least bit picky about what it eats. Well, I take that back. It must be a little bit picky, because every once in a while it will spit something back out to be found again.

So I set about putting together a list of those things at my house that have gone MIA. At first I thought I could blame the disappearances on my cats, since the first few things on the list are things they would snatch, and have in the past. However, it occurred to me as I wrote out the list that the cats could only be partially blamed. A lot of the items on the list would not, and could not, have been taken by them. So, I figure the ones they probably did get their claws into were batted around for a while, and then forgotten, only to be claimed by the black hole. Here’s the list I came up with, and I was amazed at how easy this was to create (we’re missing A LOT!):

Pink rubber bracelet - my Breast Cancer Awareness bracelet – I hadn’t taken it off since I got it in 2005, and suddenly one day it was just gone off of my wrist. I feel a little naked without it!

Toy ball of string - from Sweetpea’s Mini Pet Daycare set – ever notice once you get past the age of 3 the toys start getting smaller and smaller?

Cat’s scrunchie - I know it’s been washed a few times from being batted into the piles of dirty clothes on laundry day, but I haven’t seen it in weeks

1 whole box of wooden beads - these disappeared little by little

Many, many rubber bands

Many, many pens, pencils, highlighters, crayons, etc.

Tiny Cinderella’s glass slipper - from one of my daughter’s tiny princess sets where all the pieces are so little you need a magnifying glass and tweezers to put the princess’s shoes on her – luckily Cinderella has a twin sister that doesn’t need her glass slippers most of the time

Plastic ziplock-style bag of loose tobacco - I’ll explain this…

Several sets of nail clippers

2 tank tops

2 bottles of nail polish

Several CDs - containing both pictures and music – one of which was just loaded onto my IPod mere weeks ago. *Poof* gone.

The Santa Clause DVD

Remote for the window air conditioner - lost three times, found twice

Countless single socks

3 cross stitch patterns

2006 tax returns - both state and federal

2 cooling racks

Countless notepads

My birth certificate - original copy

Whole set of corn-on-the-cob holders - those little pick things you stick in the ends of corn cob so you can pick it up to eat without getting your hands burned or too messy – these disappeared one at a time

My song list - ongoing list of songs that I keep that I want download from Itunes

Several Christmas Bears

There’s also a whole list of other items “lost” in our last move, but I suspect they are just still packed away somewhere. The cooling racks may be among them. I’m also sure there are things not on this list that I have given up looking for, and then just forgotten about. Amazingly enough, no Polly Pocket accessories or any of the various puzzle pieces have come up missing as of yet. I better knock on wood, Murphy may be listening. I am happy to report that since I put this list together, the black hole has spit out several things it apparently wasn’t pleased with the taste of: both tank tops, my birth certificate and The Santa Clause DVD (hidden under Sweetpea’s bed). In addition, several other things have been recovered that I didn’t even know were missing: a bone from Sweetpea’s Mini Pucci Puppy set, a pet toy from the Mini Pet Daycare set (soon we’ll have all the pieces again), and a necklace belonging to either Tiny Sleeping Beauty or Tiny Belle, we’re not sure which. They share anyway, so I’m sure it doesn’t matter much whose it is. I can’t wait till we move. Who knows what else we’ll lose…er…find.

So I said I’d explain about the tobacco. Recently, since these types of specialty shops are not available in my hometown, my mom sent my husband and me to a tobacco shop to purchase some loose tobacco for her to give as a gift to a friend who smokes a pipe. We made the purchase of two bags of tobacco, brought them home, and set them on a table out of the way to await delivery for the next time we saw my mom. For the next two weeks, every time I walked by the table I would find one or both bags of tobacco on the floor. I was continually picking them up and putting them back on the table, without thinking about why they were ending up on the floor. At some point I started to question it, I think, but then just dismissed it as a combination of “slippery” plastic bags and vibrations caused by people walking by the table that was causing them to slide and then fall.

Then, one night as I was picking up the rest of the room, I once again found a bag on the floor. But this time there was only one bag. I looked everywhere in the general area, but could not find the other bag. It then occurred to me that the tobacco, even through the thick plastic bag, had a very strong odor. And, most likely, a very attractive odor to a cat. Like a ton of bricks, it hit me. One or both of the cats had been up on the table, after the tobacco. They were the reason the bags were constantly on the floor. And now, they’ve stolen a whole bag of tobacco! They’re tobacco thieves! Tobacco cat burglars! Upon closer examination of the remaining bag, I found what could have easily been a scratch caused by kitty teeth, and then a puncture mark just about the size of a cat’s fang. Now granted, there was only one scratch and one puncture mark, and by experience I have found that if a cat begins to chew on something, they don’t normally stop at half a bite, unless they’re startled/chased away from whatever they’re chewing.

So, though I have no definitive proof, the absence of the second bag is awfully incriminating. Being that these are indoor cats, the bag has to be in the house somewhere, right? You’d think. But my husband and I have searched the house from top to bottom, and cannot find the bag anywhere. We’ve checked the places the cats normally hang out – under beds, behind furniture, the bathtub, a couple closets, every little nook and cranny. Nothing. Of course we had our fun wondering if the cats made a pipe out of a bear-shaped honey jar or a hollowed-out apple, and then stole some matches and had a good ol’ fashioned ”pipe” party. We speculated whether tobacco gives them the munchies. We even checked their fur for hidden bottles of Visine and air freshener. No evidence whatsoever. So, until we move, we’ll probably not know what they did with the bag of tobacco.

In other pet news, I’m saddened to announce the passing of both Mr. Fish (the beta) and Nemo (the plecostomus). A few weeks ago we awoke on a Sunday morning to find both fish had died during the night. I suspect they fought and ended up killing each other, but we’ll never know for sure. As for us, we won’t be fish owners at home for a while, (though I still have Gill at work). The tank has been retired. Of course, Sweetpea was understandably upset…for about a minute. We didn’t even have to have a funeral. A simple flush with no fanfare seems to have provided enough closure for everyone concerned. I think they would have wanted it that way.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

Doctor Obvious

To my few but loyal readers, I would like to apologize for my delay in posting. I had an unbelievably busy week last week that netted me enough hours that I managed to leave work early on Friday. Unfortunately this only extended my delay in posting, since the scratchy throat I woke up with on Friday morning turned promptly into Strep Throat. That’s right, I’m sick again. Though I would have to say that it has been quite a while since I’ve been sick. Weeks even. I’ve managed to ward it off pretty well the last couple of times. This one, though, came on with a vengeance and definitely got even for all the colds I’ve fought off for the last few months. I blame last week’s stress; there was plenty of it! I even had to call in sick yesterday, for only the second time since I started this job 10 months ago. Not a bad record, though. You know, I told my boss recently that I get sick when I get stressed. I don’t think he believed me. I wonder if he believes me now.

So I woke up Friday morning with a little scratch, and immediately began my home remedy treatments to fight of the oncoming cold. By the end of the day, I had a full blown sore throat and thought there was no way I was beating off this one. By bedtime that night, I knew I had Strep. See, I had Strep a little over a year ago, and if you’ve ever had it as an adult, it’s not something you forget the feeling of. Plus, every cold I get is a head cold. (All I can figure is that the virus attacks the weakest areas, which is my sinuses.) So normally I don’t have a sore throat until the cold starts to break up, and, therefore, drain. I ended up taking about 800 mg of Ibuprofen that night, and slept like a log (literally, I woke up in the same position I fell asleep in) until about 6:00 in morning when I figure the medicine wore off. All at once. That’s right, 6 hours later, to the minute, and I was wide awake and in complete pain, but afraid to take any more medicine for fear of overdose. (Yes, I know I’m silly, but since Heath Ledger died it has concerned me.) I managed to get a little more sleep, but woke up with horrible aches and pains through my whole body, and a throat that felt like I was trying to eat rocks every time I swallowed. I discovered swollen glands down each side of my neck and on the back of my head, and in a few places I didn’t know I had glands. Speaking certain words literally made me gag because my throat was so swollen. The only thing missing was the fever, though I’m sure that was because of the Ibuprofen. So I called my doctor’s office at 9:00 that morning. Or at least I tried.

I am lucky enough to have a doctor’s office that takes Saturday morning appointments for “emergencies”. I have had to use this service several times. However, “emergencies” means you cannot set an appointment ahead of time. The only way to get an appointment is to call the second the office opens at 9:00 on Saturday morning, in hopes of getting in before they are all filled up. The only problem with that: the office didn’t open at 9:00. It was supposed to, their “after-hours” phone recording said so. But it didn’t. It didn’t open until 9:25. I know this because after the initial 9:00 call, I was petrified all the appointments would fill up before I could get in, (forgetting in my deliriously ill state that if I was getting the after-hours message, so was everyone else calling in), and I would have to live with this misery until Monday. So, I continued to call the office every THIRTY SECONDS few minutes until someone finally picked up. At 9:25. Then he tells me he can get me in at 9:45. I say great and hang up. Oops, did he say 9:45??? That’s in 20 minutes! Since my house is a 5 to 10 minute drive from the doctor’s office, depending on traffic, that really only left me 10 minutes to get dressed and make myself at least a little presentable. I don’t think I’ve ever moved so fast while sick. I managed to pop a few more Ibuprofen, change clothes, brush my teeth, brush my hair and stick it up in a ponytail (with a little hairspray, even), put on a little blush (though I skipped the washing of the face), throw on a little perfume and run out the door. I made it only 5 minutes late. Why, you ask, did I bother to do all of this if I was so deathly ill? Well, I certainly wasn’t going to the doctor’s office in my pajamas, since they only consisted of a tank top and shorts. They might have thrown me out, or at the minimum had me arrested for indecent exposure. No one wants to see me in my pajamas. Believe me. Not to mention it was pretty cold out; we had a storm heading in. I did only throw on sweatpants and a sweatshirt, so it’s not like I went dressed to the nines, like my grandmother would.

As far as my hair is concerned…well, no matter how sick I get, I do not ever leave the house without my hair done at least a little bit. Even if that means just up in a ponytail or pulled back with a headband, or even putting on a hat, my hair will not be visibly disheveled in public. I blame my mom. She is forever and a day trying to get me to run to the store with her RIGHT NOW, and I’m always saying I’m not ready to go yet. She’ll say “there won’t be a soul there you know” (one of her signature phrases). And guess what. Murphy immediately goes to work and there always is someone, at least one person, that I know that we inevitably run into. I quit going disheveled years ago. Damn that Murphy.

And the blush and perfume, you ask? Well, you know how it is when you’re sick. I couldn’t really tell if I smelled bad or not, (I’m guessing not, since I’d just showered the day before) but not having showered that morning, I was afraid the nurses would catch a whiff of me, catch sight of my pasty white complexion and deep dark circles under my eyes, and then hear me speak, and immediately call the morgue to find out if one of their cadavers had gotten up and walked away. I didn’t want to frighten them.

Once I checked in at the front desk, I waited only a mere minute before being summoned to one of the examining rooms. The nurse asked few questions. She didn’t have to. I told her I knew I had Strep, and proceeded to tell her why I knew. She was very nice to me, and only said she’d wait to see what the doctor said. Which is nurse for “Yes dear, but you’re not a doctor so I don’t believe a word you say, regardless of the fact that it’s your body we’re talking about.” Then she looked down my throat with that awful wooden tongue depressor and mag light. (Have I mentioned not liking to have anything wooden in my mouth? Like tongue depressors or wooden spoons?) “Say aaaaahhhh…” I think that “ah” bull is just that. It’s just a ruse for their entertainment, it doesn’t help their examination any. I’m sure people will try to tell me differently. I don’t buy it. I never say it for very long, they don’t seem to complain.

Then she said, “yep, that looks pretty sore.” Ya think?!? At this point it was probably a good thing I was having so much difficulty speaking. I maintained silence for safety’s sake (hers, not mine) and waited patiently for the doctor. Thankfully it was only a few minutes. I swear this had to be the shortest doctor’s visit I’ve ever had. Of course, I suppose that’s bound to happen when you’ve already diagnosed yourself.

Have I mentioned that doctors don’t like it very much when you diagnose yourself? The doctor came in asking the same questions the nurse had. Yes, it hurts, everywhere. Yes, I have swollen glands. Yes, I have aches and pains. No, no stuffiness. No, no fever, but I’ve had 1200 mg of Ibuprofen since midnight last night. Yes, my throat feels swollen. No, I’m not allergic to any medication. Tell me again why they have a nurse if the doctor is just going to ask the same questions over again? Not only that, but he jammed that stupid tongue depressor down my throat again, and peered in with the mag light. Do you think if they shined these things skyward at night, you could see the light from space? Yes, I am perfectly aware that it looks sore. It IS sore! Thank you Doctor Obvious. Can I just have some antibiotics now? This, of course, is where he put on the ‘tude. His answer was that he didn’t know for sure that it was Strep. I told him I knew for sure that it was Strep, this is a repeat of when I had it last year. I even told him that last year the throat swab test came back negative but the throat culture came back positive from the lab. He said he supposed he would just go straight to the throat culture then, and that we could wait until the results came back to treat but it would be until Tuesday. He didn’t give me the chance to answer; I think the look on my face said it all. He immediately wrote out the prescription for the antibiotics. I tried to make amends for my self-diagnosis and asked a few questions: when should I take it? How long until I’m no longer contagious? Will they call me with the results? His answers were short, to the point and included no extra information. He didn’t even walk me out the door like he usually does. No, they definitely don’t like it when you tell them what’s wrong with you. But really, why should they care? I still had to pay to see him. He still gets his money. Shouldn’t he be happy that he didn’t have to solve some enigma about a strange, unknown disease I may have contracted in the far away jungles of…Wyoming? Did I mention we’re considering switching doctors?

Unfortunately upon my return home with my prescription, I couldn’t go straight to the bed or couch like I wanted. I had committed to make a cake for my nephew’s second birthday party, to be held that evening. Luckily I had managed to bake it the night before, and being just a character cake it didn’t take all that long to decorate. Of course, in the condition I was, even with 800 mg more of Ibuprofen, every minute was torture. By the time I was finished I didn’t even care what it looked like. I didn’t take any pictures. I don’t think I even learned anything from this cake, except maybe that ‘birthday’ definitely has an ‘h’ in it. I did manage to catch that little error before sending the cake to the party, though. Which I missed. What’s most amazing about that is I think it’s only the second family birthday party I’ve missed in 13 years.

After the cake, I spent the next, oh, 2 1/2 days on the couch, pausing only to spend the night in the bed. Then back to the couch. Like I said, I called in sick yesterday. I did make it off of the couch yesterday, though, as my husband had an 8:00 a.m. meeting, leaving me to deliver Sweetpea to daycare. Imagine my surprise when I awoke to find this:
This is the view from my front porch.

These are the mountains I can see from my front porch, and the end of storm that was passing over them.

This is the view down my street. While only a spring storm, it was sufficient to bring out all the idiot drivers who seem to have forgotten already how to drive in the snow. I mean, after all, it’s been a whole TWO WEEKS since the last snow storm. That’s just really too long for them to remember how it’s done. Utah really amazes me in this respect. How do you live in the Rockies, (albeit in a valley, but the Rockies nonetheless,) and not know how to drive in the snow? And believe me, there are people here that don’t. Plus, they are usually the ones with 4-wheel-drive vehicles. You’d think that this is a good thing. The problem is that apparently no one told them that just because 4-wheel-drive enables them to go in the snow and ice, it does absolutely nothing to help them stop.

But I digress…

So, while I’m not feeling fabulous yet, I have started feeling better little by little. A better grade of lousy than yesterday, I’d say. I no longer feel like I’m swallowing boulders. The swelling in my glands has gone down quite a bit, and most of the aches and pains are gone. I’ve cut down my dosage of Ibuprofen to a mere 1200 mg per day. I did make it into work today, though several coworkers told me I didn’t look so great, and several others said I didn’t sound so great. Both would be accurate. Today I’m wearing my “I don’t give a damn what I look like” outfit. No, I don’t have just one. This one consists of jeans, a black and white striped t-shirt, a red “big” shirt and white shoes. At least I managed to match…sort of. I just did the headband in the hair, didn’t even bother to dry it after my shower this morning. I did put some make-up on. Like I said, didn’t want to frighten anyone. I also managed to match my jewelry today. I only went that far because I was afraid my coworkers would want to have me committed if I showed up without.

I would say I am completely disappointed by the fact that the doctor’s office did not call today with my test results. Not that I really need them, but still. I discovered this when my husband called from home at 5:04 this evening to tell me there was no message. I immediately hung up and called the doctor’s office. Got that stupid after-hours message. They may not be interested in opening on time, but they sure have NO problem closing on time!