Whelmed
Sat., May 28, 01:06 PM
Please understand. I’m not saying overwhelmed. But this past week seemed really full. Certainly too full to spend time on creating cute little posts.
For starters, I was scheduled for jury duty last Wednesday. That is something I would like to do. So I seldom inform them that I cannot serve – not since my days at Red Cross – but then the schedule starts filling up around it. One doctor wants me to consult with another. I call for an appointment, and they tell me Thursday. That would mess up the jury thing, if I actually were selected. (There probably isn’t a chance of any lawyer wanting me on the jury, once they find out what I do for a living.)
Somewhere in there, I’m supposed to go over to the hospital and pick up the films of my last mammogram to take with me to the doctor. Fortunately, U.D. has an appointment of her own over there, and she will pick them up. I will send the appropriate authorization – good thing I work for a lawyer, isn’t it – and they will release them to her. One down, two to go.
Prospective jurors check with the court the night before their appointed day to find out whether they have to report. You can still telephone, as we did in the past, but the information is now available on line. It has to be after 5:30 p.m., when you input your juror ID and wait for the information. I was able to print out “L’empress should not report on Wednesday, May 25…” Two down, one to go, and maybe a day for my own pleasure.
I was putting together a box to send to my friend Gloria, and she had requested some specific pens. The ones in the warehouse stores won’t do. I should be able to find them in Staples. But the day isn’t mine, y’know. Husband has decided that orange juice is good, and he will need more before I can drive out to Costco. (I continue to buy individual juice bottles, as he may change his mind tomorrow, and a quart bottle would then rot before he finished it.) So it’s out to Sam’s Club – I check out their selection of pens one more time, to no avail – and then I’m off to Staples. Three rows of writing implements, and I look at every one of them, because I know I’ve gotten them there before. Finally, at the bottom of the last row, there are two boxes of the pens Gloria wants. I’m only buying one box, because that’s a dozen pens; they could dry out before she uses them all.
I did buy something for myself. I’ve been looking at paper shredders, because I have boxes of papers with personal identification that needs to be shredded or burned. I just wasn’t willing to pay fifty bucks for the nice one at Sam’s. Staples had a special on a small one for twenty dollars – wastebasket included. And I discovered there’s a ten-dollar rebate on it. That’s my style. It was worth waiting for.
When I got home, two phone calls. One from the doctor’s office; he has to postpone. The secretary is calling from his other office, so I need to call the office where my appointment is and reschedule. The other call?
Something has been hanging over my head – literally – for the last year or so – our roof. I was going to get the new roof last year, but I got sick instead. At last it is going forward, and our friend phoned to tell me that we need to get to City Hall and get the permit. Simple, right? Except that he wants to start on Tuesday and Monday is a holiday and maybe the department will take the Friday too. Once more, U.D. to the rescue. She made the calls and went to City Hall. So everything is good, right?
Not exactly. There is always Husband. I got him to the doctor a few weeks ago about his swollen foot, and I took him for a Doppler scan the week after that. His doctor has finally gotten the lab report. There is narrowing of a vessel in his thigh, and he needs to see a vascular surgeon. I still have to call the doctor back; I just wanted my own issues to be settled first, but I guess I can’t wait that long.
This is not going to be pretty. Husband still says he’s fine. He always says that; I recognize that he’s afraid. For years he has dealt with many problems by ignoring them. Dashboard light? Don’t look at it; maybe it will go out. He never heard funny noises from the motor or the tires either. This problem can’t be ignored but he is not a candidate for surgery, not with those lungs. I haven’t yet told him he has to see another doctor. There’s no reason for him to stew over it until he has a definite appointment. But I’m whelmed.
