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Tossed Salad Friday


~~ Last week, I had zero energy to write up my life for you. This week, I have very little stomach for it. However, I need to vent, and my friends have heard (most) of it already and are probably tired of listening to the ways the universe is steamrolling over me. I was saying, “At least I have my health…” but that’s tethered to a zip line right now. More about that later.

~~ Let’s start in the tiny, ghastly village of Dementia-ville. The patient’s taste buds have contracted to a point where only tilapia and Salisbury steak are appealing (don’t look at me… I don’t shop or cook for the denizen of Dementia-ville). Caring for her at present is an aide in some unholy couch-worshipping cult — her ass seemingly pays tribute hundreds of times per day. This sect permits, maybe encourages, kvetching from the couch, and so the gripes flow out of her like the cookies flow into her. Nothing seemed too trivial to carp about until Ms. Nag decided to keep her cookie-crumbed mouth closed about the toilet running all damn day. The toilet that is, at best, three feet from the couch!

She’d been warned, repeatedly, about doing short washes and not wasting water, as we coddled our cesspools to keep them operational. But she bypassed the quick wash (25 minutes) and did the 95 minute wash cycle and kept her perpetually flapping yap shut about the toilet that didn’t quit. Long story short, she’s cost us a bloody fortune and the loss of shrubbery. Here’s the kicker: the chemicals added after the pumping need about five days to work. So no showers, washes, or dishwasher use, and "minimal flushing." Will this overwrought suburban dweller survive 95 degrees every day when showers are verboten? Tune in next week or check the police blotter.

~~ Some stuff happened that I don’t want to post about yet. In addition, my health has gone downhill rapidly, and the doctor says it could be 100% from an insect, 100% from stress, or maybe something else. She’s got a bucket of my blood and I hope she’ll figure it out, soon.

~~ I had to take a break from writing this blog, as I felt like my (remaining) blood had all turned to bile. I got annoyed at my car (because, why not) — its electrical system has gone haywire and the wipers turn on whenever the heck they feel like it except when you want to wash the windshield. Then I passed a woman standing on the side of the road, in 95 degrees, waiting for a county bus. Boom! Message received.

~~ I’ll share with you an incident that no longer infuriates me, in light of all that’s since transpired. I made an appointment with a new dentist (thanks, insurance company, for excluding the old one). The woman I spoke with took all my info, confirmed the location, date, and time, so like a good patient I showed up at said location on the proper date and time. I found a locked door, so I knocked. I heard a man say, “Come in” but I responded that I couldn’t because of the lock. That man was from the suite next door and he’d mistaken my knock for a summons to him. He told me his name — Jeff — and said he’d text Dora, the dentist’s receptionist. “She always answers right away.” A good seven or eight minutes later, she hadn’t responded, and I had both run out of patience and small talk to make with Jeff. After he gave me paper and pen to write a note to slip through the dentist’s mail slot, he shared something he probably should have told me before his age (68), his business details (“slower since the internet”), and all his prior jobs (never mind).

“You know, [the dentist] is in my plan but I don’t use him. He’s a very strange man and a very cold fish and no one seems to like him. I’d go someplace else.” I will, Jeff — my appointment with a new dentist is next week.

~~ I stood with about 1,000 other people on June 30 calling for families to stay together. It was as hot as the Libyan Desert and as humid as a blow dryer convention in Florida after the A/C fails. Know what kept us there for hours? Mutual indignation at the administration’s policies, the knowledge that we were way more comfortable than the people trying to cross the border in the mistaken belief that the USA was welcoming and safe, and, of course, unadulterated rage at the barbarians running this country.

Dasvidaniya. Have a great weekend!
LET’S GO METS!

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