Bordeaux to Britain, Days 1-3

Day 1, 4/23/16

Mom and I both had milestone birthdays last year, so this year we celebrated with our first Smithsonian trip.  From Bordeaux to Britain was a 7 night cruise about the French ship L'Austral.  Of course, first we had to get to Bordeaux.

Mom and Dad picked me up at 3:00 Saturday afternoon and Dad dropped us off at the airport to catch a 5:30 flight to Detroit.  I stopped at an airport newsstand to pick up a bottle of water and a granola bar, and caught up with Mom, only to find her at the bar on the way to our gate, chatting with the county executive and a local mayor on their way to Hanover, Germany for a trade conference.  They were on our flight to Detroit.  The flight was short, only 25 minutes, and we had plenty of time to eat overpriced caprese sandwiches near the gate before our 8 p.m. flight to Amsterdam.

On board the big-ass Delta Airbus, we met another mother-daughter duo who were going on the same cruise but with a different group, the National Trust for Historic Preservation.  B and her mom W are from Columbus, and the daughter and widow respectively of a WWII veteran who participated in the landing at Omaha Beach on D-Day.  W is 90, which is not something I would ordinarily mention, but which became important later.  We got all settled in the plane and then sat on the runway for a hour while they replaced the radio.  Delta wouldn't move us to another plane because it was "not a safety issue".

Once we were in the air and the cabin crew started serving drinks, they apparently got enough questions about potential missed connections that the captain came on and said don't pester the cabin crew, they can't do anything.  Then he said, "We are aware that some of you have tight connections.  Delta is aware our flight is late, staff on the ground is late, and we will do everything we can to see that you make your connections" (emphasis mine).  So I tried some of the pasta that smelled wonderful and wasn't, enjoyed the brownie, drank a boatload of water and napped fitfully while one of my seatmates watched The Revenant.

Eventually we landed, at 11:45 a.m. Amsterdam time, which was 5:45 a.m. Akron time.  Delta's idea of doing everything they could to make sure we made our connection was to have an employee meet us at the gate, look at our boarding passes and tell the 4 of us to go to gate B-36.  No one offered to call the gate and have them keep the doors open, no one offered transportation to the departure gate, and no one seemed to care that they were telling a 90 year old woman to walk from one end of the A terminal to the opposite end of the B terminal in under 10 minutes when it was a minimum of a 20 minute walk for an average adult.  A non-Delta airport employee helped us whisk through Customs but to no avail, by the time we made the gate they'd closed the doors of the plane.

After we walked all the way back to the A terminal, we got to stand for another 45 minutes while KLM agents tried to book us on the next day's flight and tried to call the ship to tell them not to expect us until Monday.  Then it was downstairs all the way through cavernous baggage claim to get our hotel and meal vouchers, then back upstairs and out of the damn airport to wait for the bus to our hotel.  It was 2:30 p.m. Amsterdam time when we got to the hotel and grabbed some lunch.  That's 8:30 a.m. Akron time and we'd basically been up for 26 hours and traveling for 19 hours.

Short digression:  the dog knocked me over about a week before we left and I was so concerned with the giant bruises that I didn't really notice I had a sprained ankle.  I very much noticed it by the time we'd walked all over Hell's high acre, aka the Amsterdam airport.  I'd also forgotten to pack any ibuprofen.  Because our hotel was in a freeway service plaza, after lunch Mom and I walked over to the gas station to see if they had any ibuprofen or aspirin.  Unfortunately, all they had was paracetemol, aka Tylenol, which does zip for me.  However, the flowers at the gas station were exquisite and heart-lifting.  After we walked back to the hotel, I took a nap, and then Mom and i had coffee in the lounge, then read for a bit, then had dinner.  After dinner, we both took the showers we desperately needed and washed our socks and such and then left a wake-up call and went to bed.

The next morning we were on the bus headed for the airport at 8:20, managed to catch the 12:30 flight to Bordeaux with no problems.  As dog is my witness, I will never willingly fly Delta again.

Days 2 and 3 with lots of pictures after the jump!

It takes more than blue skies

...to make a happy Jammies.  I hate DST.  Just when I was getting used to it being light when I got up, now it's back to pitch black and the alarm clock.

The weather's been warm and springlike all week, with two days of blue skies mid-week.  Unfortunately, this week was also Call Day, and it was a big one this month.  I hadn't gotten my Lexapro refilled, so I missed one dose on that day, which didn't help.  Granted, it didn't hurt all that much since it's a cumulative medication, I just felt a little dizzy and foggy-headed.

The good news is that I'm getting the mechanics of Call Day to a point where they're pretty smooth, and the judge really likes being able to send folks straight to the help desk.  That will be even smoother when the renovations are finished and the help desk is directly across the hall from the courtroom.  I did say one stupid thing in court, which led to a resolution to keep my mouth shut (hard for me to do, as those who know me well would say).  The judge was nice about it, and didn't say anything when we were on the record, but she did discuss it with me the next day.

AT&T is providing miserable customer service, including offering a "payment arrangement" that is actually a demand, then cutting off my phone four days before the agreed-upon date, then saying I'll have to pay $30 to have my service re-connected.  The flooring people I agreed to allow to start my floor with less than a day's notice so their workers would have something to do have left me for a week with an unsanded, unstained floor and no word on when it will be finished.

So the blue skies are nice, but I'd like more, please.

Snobservations from a VERY long week

Before I start snobserving, if you don't follow me on Google Plus, you might not know that my boss was on the front page of the paper on Thursday, or that my workplace will be featured in a documentary.

That leads me to my first snobservation, that it used to be 15 minutes of fame.  Now, apparently, at least for buildings, it's only 6 minutes. :-(

It was a very long week, in part because Tuesday was Call Day, in which m colleagues and I are frantically busy but don't actually get a ton of work done, and partly because of the looming departure of one of said co-workers.

To the attorney who was upset with me for sending back an insufficiently documented Inventory, I say, "Mister, you can tell me that house is worth a cow and a sackful of magic beans, but if it's not in writing, I can't docket it."

To all of the attorneys who say that's not how they do it in [insert name of other county here], I say, "That's how we do it here, and that's why you should read the damn local rules before you try to file in a new-to-you county."

To the attorneys who ask about the rules of service and wonder when we started doing that, I say, "It's been almost a year, and you should read the damn local rules before you try to file in a court where you haven't practiced in a year."

To paralegals who call me asking how to do something, I say, "Ask your boss, she's the lawyer!"

And to the snooty-ass OSBA-certified paralegal who types things like, "Your welcome" I say, "My welcome says you need to brush up on your basic grammar."

I am mercifully NOT currently perched on Rex's Erection with a water gun in my hand

Mercifully because after three days of "Do this.  No, we don't like this.  Do that.  Ha!  Fooled you--do that, but someplace else" from the miserable troglodytes at Express Scripts, I finally have my Lexapro refill.

Ever since Tuesday, when my nurse practitioner called in a new script to my local grocery store pharmacy, Express Shits has turned down the script twice, not told me until I called them, and then given me directions that turned out also not to work.  Everyone I had face-to-face interactions with was so very nice that I couldn't vent my rage, which just made it harder to cope.

Finally, after a second pharmacy was called and was willing to call the first pharmacy to transfer the prescription (since it had been e-mailed in, not faxed or written on paper) and I'd spent most of my breaks and lunches on hold, I got my Lexapro.  Of course, I had to wait for nearly 45 minutes at the second pharmacy because Express Shits kept asking for more info that they didn't have, but I got it.  I no longer feel like a donkey on the edge, and I am no longer tempted to climb a tower with a Super-Soaker in my hand.

Oh, and stop that, you dirty-minded people, I'm talking about a local landmark. :P

Somebody gets me!

Five days a week I park my car at the downtown parking garage closest to work.  I pay $65/month for the privilege, and consider it well spent when I don't have to slog through a polar vortex for more than two minutes.  However, I am wondering what the company that operates the garage is doing with my money (and everyone else's).

When it rains or snows heavily, all of the pipes carrying the water away from the flat roof leak and all of the drains back up.  Huge puddles form, great swathes of parking spaces are blocked off, and this spring, the lowest level of the garage had two feet of water in it for almost a week.  The only "maintenance" ABM seems to do is to put out "Wet Floor" signs convenient only for blocking more parking spaces.

Last Wednesday, I got out of my car and stepped right in a puddle.  Fortunately I keep my work shoes at work and I was wearing sneakers, but I was still ticked.  I thought about it all day, and at 4:00, I grabbed a sheet of paper out of the recycling bin and made a little sign.

Welcome to Lake Morley, Cabins and Fishing are in my handwriting.

I taped it on the door to Level 2 and went home.

On Friday night, as I got to the door, I saw that "Kiddie Pool", "High Dive" and "Canoes" had been added, each with their own unique arrows.  As long as it's up, I can start my day happy with the knowledge that even if I don't know them personally, someone in Akron shares my sense of humor.

Died suddenly, at home, 03/25/2014

Funeral services will be performed Friday, March 28, 2014, 7:00 a.m. by the City of Cuyahoga Falls Sanitation Department.  In lieu of flowers, the family requests gift cards to Bed, Bath and Beyond or Target.

R.I.P., Mr. Coffee.  You weren't even three years old and I took care of you--cleaned you regularly, washed your carafe, de-scaled you even though I only used RO-filtered water and 100% Columbian coffee.  Still, you left me on a workday morning when I really needed you.  If there's an afterlife for appliances, I hope you get eaten by a vicious waffle iron.

Local politics

May 16, 2011

My City Council
My CouncilCritter

Dear CouncilCritter:

On tonight’s agenda is an amendment proposed by Representative Derp which would require Cuyahoga Falls residents to clean under birdfeeders and would also prohibit them from having compost heaps. As a long-time resident and taxpayer, I have several concerns with this legislation.

First, on the birdfeeder issue, Representative Derp alleged that fallen birdseed either rots or attracts “vermin” to the area under the birdfeeders, when in fact, fallen seed attract ground-feeding birds, including our state bird, the cardinal.

Second, on the compost issue, is there any solid evidence that there is an epidemic of improperly maintained compost in Cuyahoga Falls? If so, where is the data on this epidemic, how was the data gathered, and how was it evaluated? If there truly is such a problem, isn’t it better to start with education on correct composting rather than punishment? Perhaps the city could do more to let citizens know about the composting tips already available on the city website (by adding a flyer to utility bills, posting a notice in local newspapers, etc.).

Third, also on the compost issue, in these extremely difficult economic times, is it right to tell a homeowner or renter who is trying his best to be environmentally responsible, that the City of Cuyahoga Falls expects each homeowner to spend between $40-$200 the average homeowner may not have? The City will be collecting dozens, if not hundreds, of recycling bins in the next months—will there be a credit for turning in that much plastic? If so, the city should consider using that credit to pay for composting bins and provide them to residents instead of adding another financial burden to households quite probably already in straitened financial situations.

Finally, I ask the same question about both issues—who is going to enforce this, how is it going to be monitored, and are my tax dollars paying for this? Will health inspectors or police officers be sent on “seed patrol,” or will enforcement depend on tips from citizens? If the latter, not only is there a large potential for multiple problems based on misuse of any reporting system, the process would simply duplicate a right Cuyahoga Falls citizens already have, the right to pick up the telephone and call the health department and complain about an unsafe or unhealthy condition.

Given all of my objections, I would ask you both, as my representative and as president of the council, to vote No on this amendment.

Thank you for your anticipated attention to this matter

Very truly yours,

Citizen Jammies

P.S. Tell Mr. Derp to settle his difficulties with his neighbors by negotiating with them, not by trying to pass laws that screw up the budgets and lives of the rest of us.

I've always known I hated Mondays,

I just never knew Mondays hated me back.

The MS flareup is still ongoing, making it very difficult for me to do anything much more than type with my left hand (and at that, I'm wishing I didn't need to capitalize any of the letters I type with my right hand). I still managed to get the bathroom cleaned and the laundry done yesterday, at which time every thing in the house was normal.

I knew today and tomorrow were going to be absolutely crazy at work, because Mom has a big trial coming up on Wednesday and so there'd be a lot of copying, collating, etc. for me. I was already half-dreading the day as I showered, got dressed and packed my lunch, but that was nothing compared to the fact that when I went to put Piggie Pie in the basement there was standing water at the bottom of the steps. I left her down there, went in to work, went through the mail from Friday and Saturday and called both of Mom's afternoon appointments to cancel. I also made all the copies of the finally balanced accounting from last week and got them ready for Mom to take to court and checked the voice mail. By the time Mom got there at 9:15, I had the decks cleared enough so that I could come home and call my insurance agent.

Of course, said agent isn't sure whether the damage is covered, but he gave me the name and number of a cleanup guy and started the claim process. Michael, the cleanup guy, was booked solid today and is hopefully going to come out early tomorrow, because I made a point of telling his office that I had to be at work to do trial prep.

Please note that at no point in this process did I call my father. Dad is pretty much out of the home repair business after almost killing himself with work on his own house last summer, and right now, I can't manage cleaning up the basement, even if he had brought me a mop and bucket. I couldn't even do my usual trick of putting towels down and then taking them to the washing machine in a basket--there's just too much water!

I did put on my boots and go down and check, and the water appears to be coming in the west wall, and it's pretty much all gone towards the south (front) and east walls, which means that it is away from the furnace, water heater, washer and dryer (good) but far away from the sump pump (bad). At some point while I was exploring and evaluating, Mom called Dad.

Dad called me, told me he couldn't do anything but said he'd come over after dinner with his mop and bucket. I have not told Dad about the flareup, because he's going through enough medical crap on his own, so I didn't tell him that wouldn't work, just said that my insurance guy wanted me to have the pro clean it up. Dad then yelled at me for not keeping better track of the one piece of paper we have regarding the alleged basement waterproofing done two decades ago. I declined to get into that with him, because while I believe that Mom has said piece of paper, I also know that I could have stuck it "someplace safe" and I'm tired of hearing about it from him.

Mom called about 6:30 and said she'd found it, and gave me the name of the company plus the phone numbers from the sheet of paper. Dad said he'd looked them up online and they had a good rating both with Angie's List and the BBB, but he couldn't give me the url because he used Google and just went straight to the site. I used Google too, but got several different companies in different states with the same name. I finally found it and wrote down the number. The last thing Dad said to me was, "Don't make an appointment for tomorrow." I said I had to, because I can't leave Little Miss in a wet basement. His response was, "Your mother needs you more than your dog does."

I hung up on him. I am SO sick and tired of him being a crabby ass bastard that if he were here, I'd hit him with his own damn mop.

*breathe breathe breathe*

I did reach three different guys at the waterproofing company, and someone will be at my house between 8:30 and 9:00 tomorrow morning to take a look. I tried to call Mom to tell her, but the phone's busy, and since they have call waiting, I think maybe crabby ass bastard took the phone off the hook. Fine, I'll call in the morning and wake his crabby ass up.

Nibbled to death by ducks

While the storm on the East Coast is causing the city of Atlanta to shut down entirely, here in the Midwest, we're supposed to be used to this, and we're expected to shut up and get on with our lives. While I would like a snow day or two, it usually doesn't bother me to drive into work through a ton of softly falling snow.

However, today was different. First of all, the roads weren't even close to clear. Second, the driver in front of me had his hazards on despite the fact that everyone was driving slowly. Thirdly and possibly most important, I've been off my anti-depressant since Friday. My neuro's office pretty much decided that I don't get refills on either my Lexapro or my Neurontin until I come see the doc and get another MRI.

Yesterday I logged on to the Cleveland Clinic's website and requested appointments for my MRI with sedation and a follow-up with my doc, both to be scheduled on the same day. When I got home, there was a mumbled message on my answering machine saying that I had the MRI on February 8th and the doctor's appointment on February 24th. Of course it was too late to call and reschedule when I got the message, so I listened to it three times and wrote down all the numbers.

After my icky drive in, I took care of the urgent things that needed to be done at the office, then called the number left on my answering machine. I got the main switchboard and some jerk named Michael who got snippy with me for not having enough digits in the extension I'd requested and then for not having even part of the Mellen Center scheduling's extension correct. He put me on hold before I could snap back that I was repeating the number I was given and I was very sorry people had called off work but he didn't need to take it out on me. When he transferred me, the phone line got goofed up and everything had a loud echo to it, including the Clinic ads, hold music, and the person answering my call at scheduling.

The woman who took my call at the scheduling desk was also less than thrilled to help me. At first she tried to tell me that doctors don't allow same day MRIs and follow-ups because the patients aren't coherent. When I told her I'd done it that way for the past six years and if I wasn't coherent, my mom would be coherent for me, since I had to have a driver anyway, she asked why I couldn't do the appointments on two separate days. I tried to explain that A. I have a 45 minute drive one-way from my house to the Clinic and B. Now that they are charging $40 extra every time you set foot on their property, I can't afford more than one visit per year. [Name redacted because it's distinctive] said that it was not her fault about the charges, and anyway, the one-day appointments would be too far apart because MRIs were at 9 or 10 in the morning and then the doctor's appointments were all in the afternoon. I told her that was fine, that's what I always did, which was in my appointment record, which caused her to snap at me that she couldn't read charts.

I asked her to please schedule me for one of those days with a morning MRI and afternoon follow-up, and suddenly the appointments in February and March disappeared and the first thing I could get was April 8th. FINE.

My next call was to the doctor's office, and of course I didn't have his number and had to go by the listing on the Clinic's website, which was for the Neurology Department rather than the Mellen Center. Thankfully, that time I had a real person who cheerfully transferred me.

At the doc's office, I was on hold for a long time, but again I figured they'd had call-offs. When one of the admins answered the phone, I told her that I was out of Lexapro and Neurontin and couldn't get an appointment until April, so could someone please call me about refills? She checked my chart and said, "You requested a refill via e-mail on Monday and we sent it to your pharmacy yesterday." I asked why I hadn't gotten a notification for said refill and she said they don't do notifications any longer (apparently, they expect their patients with memory problems to call the pharmacy until they actually get a refill). At this point, I was upset and frustrated, but managing to hold on to my temper and hold off tears.

My next phone call was to the pharmacy, where I was informed that instead of one month refills on the Lexapro and three month refills on the Neurontin, the doctor's office had gotten it backwards. Oh, yay, time to call the doc again. This time, the tears were a lot closer to the surface, but a different admin swore that they'd call the pharmacy and correct the error.

Right now, I'm afraid to call the pharmacy and check, but I have to admit it will be nice to lie in bed and not have pins and needles in my arms and legs keep me from sleeping, and maybe to be on an even enough keel that I'm not fantasizing about threatening to firebomb a major medical center.

How do I even describe this day?

Last night, when I got my mail and brought in the recycling bin, all was perfectly normal at the end of my driveway.

At 9:00 this morning, when my parents picked me up, my mailbox was gone, the post was on the ground, there was a bumper attached to my neighbor's tree and giant ruts in the ditch in front of my lawn.

On the way to Columbus, I called the police non-emergency line, and they said that they had an accident report involving a mailbox from last night, and that the accident was reported because the car had to be towed. The officer told me I can get a copy of the report on Monday.

When we got to Columbus, Mom and Dad and I had lunch, then headed over to meet my brother and family to watch The Awesome Nacho's black belt ceremony at the taekwondo academy. Afterwards, pretty much the entire graduating class went to dinner at House of Hunan, both of my nephews' first experience with hibachi food and service. They both loved it, of course.

Mom missed the turnoff for my house, so we had to take a longer way to get me home, and when I got home, the package I had been expecting wasn't there, so I checked the USPS website for delivery information, and it said "Notice Left."

Um, where? In case you hadn't noticed, THERE'S NO MAILBOX TO LEAVE NOTICES IN.

They could have just left the damn box on the step the way they've left every other box in the last year, but noooooooooo, they had to f up my day.

Anyway, at least I got to see my nephew get his junior black belt, and I had a lemon drop martini at dinner. :)

Dear White Trash Neighbor,

My condolences for your impotence and the fact that your insurance won't cover Viagra. However, when you choose to buy fireworks to compensate, I would appreciate your keeping in mind that the Fourth of July was a freaking month ago, and I do not appreciate feeling as if I were living in downtown Beirut.

Sincerely,

Jammies and the dogs on the verge of a nervous breakdown

WTF is wrong with me?

First I burst into tears when I see a big, black-and-white, Shepherd-y mix hanging his head out of a car window and having fun.

Next, I get teary when Jonathan gets auf'd from Project Runway.

Then the conjoined Barbies at water-walking make me furiously angry.

And now, I'm all ticked that Gail Carriger's latest book ends with a freaking cliffhanger. I hate cliffhangers, but I shouldn't be quite this irritated.

So WTF is with all the overemotional reactions lately? It can't be hormones, I don't have hormones anymore.

Aaaargh!

Entitled or insecure?

If someone asks for advice on a message board, and one of the respondents posts a 500-word patronizing, condescending, polysyllabic bloviation in response, what does it make said bloviator when she then returns to the thread to complain that the original poster hasn't thanked her for her post? Specifically, when said bloviator says she wants back the time she invested?

Disgustingly entitled, or horrendously insecure?

*ponders*

Dear Dog,

Yes, it comes in 40 pound green and white bags. Yes, it is distributed around the house in big bowls. Yes, it is crumbly and damp and apparently tasty, at least to you. However, it is NOT dog food. This is proven every time you barf it back up.

STOP EATING THE DAMN POTTING SOIL!

Any day that starts with the sledgehammer really isn't good.

Yesterday, I took the day off from Hyphenated Co. Last night, Mom and I went to calling hours for a friend's mother, who just died from pancreatic cancer. Mom has known the family for a very long time--one of the daughters was her student in college, the father was an attorney with an office in the same building as Mom's first office, another daughter is also an area attorney. I never met the dad, because he died quite some time ago, but the attorney/daughter was someone I got to know fairly well in the years I worked for Mom, and came to like and respect very much. I know that Mom will be available for her friend as the months pass, and I will try to do the same.

After the funeral home, Mom and I had dinner at the Olive Garden. We split an appetizer of their new mozzarella fondue, which was wonderful and very rich, and some garden salad, which was a good contrast to the fondue if somewhat lacking in nutrients (really, would it kill them to use something other than iceberg lettuce?). When we parted, I headed to BJ's, where I planned to get gas and then pick up a few groceries.

It snowed all last week, and last night was no exception--it was snowing, the wind was vicious, the cold was intense, and when I got to the gas station, I couldn't get the door over my gas tank open. I had the attendant cancel the pump transaction for me, and came home.

My garage is unheated, so if there was a freezing problem with the gas tank door, it didn't change. I smacked the door several times with a sledgehammer, and when that didn't work, took it to the local auto shop. The owner had me pull up on the latch release inside the car while he pushed on the door, and that got it open. Feeling obligated, I filled up there at $2.90/gallon, then got went to water-walking. Mom and I had a good class, after which I came home, ate lunch, took a bath and had a long nap.

Must clean, shovel and do laundry tomorrow. Ugh.

R E S P E C T

There seems to be a huge lack of it these days. Some time today, someone left a big wad of gum on top of one of the walls at the pool. I cleaned it up, and then spent the rest of my warmup time thinking about the lack of respect for common areas. I'm constantly cleaning trash out of my front yard where people throw it from their cars.

My conclusion is that it's a combination of laziness, selfishness and entitlement. It's easier to throw your trash out the car window or leave your gum on the wall, you should only have to do what's easy for you, and you paid the taxes that built that road or the natatorium.

*sigh*

Some days, I just hate human beings.

No more relying on Snopes

A while back, Snopes ran a badly-researched article on the book & movie versions of The Golden Compass. I wrote to them about it (actually, I sent them a thoughtful and amazing post written at the Lush message board by a poster named Shelby), and while they didn't precisely fix the entire article, they did remove some of the more blatant errors and the proof that they had relied on abstracts as opposed to reading the books.

Today, when I was reading about the Kitty Genovese event, I ran across an article from Snopes about an urban legend about a rape during Scream Session week.

I was surprised and dismayed to find that Snopes reiterates the Kitty Genovese urban legend, and really upset to get an e-mail in response to my comment which basically said, "Look up the references if you don't believe us." Upon taking another look at the article, I note that the only reference is to the scream session legend, they have nothing cited to back up their figure on the Genovese case.

You'd think they'd try to not propagate more urban legends.

El dia de sucko

Today has absolutely sucked rabid swamp rats.

I overslept and that led to much headless-chickenness to start my day.

Traffic was lousy.

When I got to work, I realized I had my wallet with me, but my purse was MIA, and it had my good BPAL LE Snow Storm perfume in it, in a holder Lioness crocheted especially for me.

While I was worrying about that, our xtml system was incredibly slow and clunky. It turns out that an electrician working at our Rochester, NY office cut power to all the servers there despite initially being told not to.

I came home, and while I did find my purse, I didn't find my pharmacy delivery. I ordered it on January 21st, paid the extra $15 for expedited delivery and was told I would have it in one week. So I called, and was told that my insurance company denied coverage and said it would have to be filled through their specialty pharmacy. Of course, nobody bothered to tell ME that until I called. The woman with whom I spoke promised me she would transfer the prescription and that I should be able to call the specialty pharmacy at 4:45 and possibly have it shipped tomorrow so it arrives on Thursday. It had freaking better get here on Thursday, because I am not cancelling my trip.

Grrrrrrrrrrrr.

ETA: Great. The specialty pharmacy says transfers take 24-48 hours, not 30 minutes, and they'll try to get it out by Friday. Screaming is looking like a very attractive option right now.

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd I just got a phone call from a collection agency. Medical co-pay, of course.

*hides under bed*

General growliness

I don't mind when the senior editor check on my book turns up stuff I've missed--that's what it's for. I do mind, rather fervently, when people then check on me all damn day to see if I've fixed it yet!

A very sad thing happened right before Thanksgiving. One of the cleaners who worked in our office building was hit by a car and is not expected to live. She has five children between the ages of one and fifteen, and so there was a drive posted to buy grocery store gift cards for the family. I contributed the amount I had set aside to buy BPAL perfumes. I figure that was money that's better spent as a contribution, and I can still save up and get my goodies later. Today, Blondezilla came and offered me my check back, announcing that I gave too much because most people just contributed fifteen or twenty dollars. I turned her down politely, but after she left, I couldn't help but seethe. What difference does it make what other people give? My contribution was what I could afford and wanted to give.

Grrr.

Bobby Terry, you SCROOOOED UP!

That's a quote from "The Stand," by Stephen King. When Bobby Terry accidentally shoots the Judge in the face, Randall Flagg is a bit upset, and Bobby winds up a bit dead. Right now, I rather wish I could chew up the folks at Lush's online division.

See, they had this wonderful, amazing sale on Christmas Day, and didn't tell anyone about it--you pretty much had to be on the computer and visiting the Lush website right on Christmas to benefit. From what I've read, they gave away some amazing stuff. But, okay, I don't need to spend any more money, I placed an order right before Christmas, and although I was miffed at how they handled the sale, I've made my peace with it.

That is, until today, when I was notified that three of the items I ordered at 10:30 a.m. PST on Friday, December 22nd, were out of stock (and since they were Christmas items, there won't be any more, unless Lush decides to make the same item next year). Of course, Lush didn't get my order ready for shipping until today, six days AFTER I posted my order, and some of the folks who benefited from the sale got FREE Holidays (my item).

To say I'm a bit miffed is putting it mildly. Frankly, right now I want Randy Flagg's teeth.