The Hits Just keep on Coming

I hate people who do this--complain non-stop as if their problems are the worst in the world. So I am not doing that. I am listing things that have gone wrong in the last few hours in an effort to amuse myself about how absurd my life is.

I went to the doctor over these horrible headaches, and this cough and my complete lack of a voice. There I learned that I am evidently resistant to the mack daddy of all the antibiotics (since I have been on them for almost two months, off and on), have an extremely weak set of lungs that will not clear up, a sinus infection that will not go away, allergies that will not be controlled, bronchitis and maybe a head injury. And infected tonsils.

I got way more new drugs that Walgreen's is holding hostage until tomorrow, as I could not bear to wait for them., and instructions to call my doc on Tuesday next week to report I am well. Or else. And something about going to bed and staying there lest someone be forced to lock me down in a hospital. If I still have blurry vision from my headaches, I have to get some damn scan.

Now when pray tell will I have time to deal with all that? He assured me I would not have my voice back before my oral argument next Monday, so I had to ask the court to continue it. I had already figured out what to say at it, now I will have to start all over next time. Great.

So I got home by 6:30 tonite, which never happens, because I am afraid if I am caught out in public, I will be kidnapped and wake up in a hospital. Now that I think about it, I have no idea why I was avoiding that. It would be kind of nice to rest. Since I am home, and too tired to change the hairy sheets, I will be resting on sheets covered in dog hair again tonight. They are even starting to make me sick.

Between the getting home at a reasonable hour, and getting in the nasty sheets in the bedroom where the TV remote will not turn off the damn TV, so you have to get up to turn it off or use the sleep button which always goes off at the wrong time--Slater decided that he cannot use his right front leg. I bumped into him, barely touching him--and he screamed. Bad. And he will not put his foot on the ground at all. All that happened between the couch and the kitchen, which is approximately 20 feet. Add that to my worrying list now.

Barry finally got a little info on where he will work next--either Chicago, which he hates, or Orlando, which would be fun. This will just be for a month or two, and he would not be a project manager like he is now, as there is not really a project to manage. I cannot blame him for not wanting to be out in the weather in Chicago in the winter. But that he seems so happy about possibly going to Orlando makes me sad. Obviously, he won't be able to come home very often if he is in Orlando, as it is 929 miles from here to there. Sure, he can fly home once every six weeks or so, but if history says anything, there will not be actual TIME to come home. And since he is management, he is salaried, but won't be working as management---so he will be working OT for free next to people getting paid for it. (Dear Karma: do not strike me dead for complaining about money, because we are glad he has a job--it would just be nice to get paid for the extra 40 hrs he works a week on top of the first 40 hours) And of course, the airport is another 100 miles from here. After that short job is done, he might be in either Detroit or Indianapolis. Not hard to tell which of those is more desirable, but who knows if they will happen or whether he will have any say about which place he goes.

Oh wait a minute--something went wrong here. This was supposed to be funny and all of a sudden, it is not.

Im going to bed. With dog hair