Monthly Archives: February 2016
Where’s my freaking package?
To our mailman: If you can’t do your job, stop lying about it, find a solution, or find another job.
Our mailman is a liar and lazy as hell.
He often doesn’t deliver our neighborhood’s mail for days on end. He also lies about attempts to deliver.
The Curmudgeon’s chair is about eight feet from the door he knows if the mailman has been there or not because he’s always in his chair.
We have a package that was supposed to be delivered yesterday and again today. Never got here.
I wouldn’t have known about the ‘attempt to deliver’ had Amazon not e-mailed me. We know there was no attempt. The mailman never arrived on our street. We watched for him!
The USPS is not reliable. The employees no longer take pride in their jobs. And we get screwed again.
I’ve notified the USPS and the Inspector General of the USPS. Do I expect results? Nope. But doing it purged me of the anger.
Oh, and he can’t use the disrepair of our steps as an excuse. They are fixed. Have been for a week.
You know it’s cold when…
Lucy spends every minute she can rolled into a fuzzy blanket burrito.
When Gavin wastes no time outside and scurries in immediately after emptying his bladder.
I dread going out to start the cars tomorrow because I forgot to do it today.
Your bones ache.
The furnace seems to run constantly.
You have to wear a sweatshirt even with the furnace running all the time.
Cold cold cold weather.
Lucy insists on wearing her hat and coat to go out, this little pup is no fool. Gavin has a wooly coat, thanks to his Nova Scotia birth, and he doesn’t mind the cold one bit.
Ten degrees with a windchill dropping us to minus four. Yep, cold.
I’m done with winters. I want to be here.
Gavin’s blood work…
It’s great to say that most of his blood work came back with cheers of excellent from his vet. However, there were a couple of values in his liver numbers that she did not cheer about. “We’ll keep an eye on those,” she said.
For Gavin’s age, fourteen years old, he is in great shape. We’ve never had one of our bully loves make it to this age.
I’m sure he’s not going to want to get in the car next week when we have to go back to his vet’s office. Even less so when he has to go a third time. He’s never liked to go there, he’s gone to the same office since he was a little guy.
At the vet’s…
Yeah, an hour later, $650.00 lighter, and the old dog was acting like nothing happened. Guess who was chasing three tennis balls all over the living room?
Like he didn’t throw up twice the day before…which he NEVER does.
At least now he’s having his ears treated and we’ll go back next week to spend another small fortune on them. His vet is aware of how lousy his teeth look, how weird his nails grow, and that he HATES being there.
He’s had a nail trim done by two people and it took three people to clean his ears. Is it any wonder why I couldn’t keep at them with my left hand dead and The Curmudgeon out of commission?
I do love my vets and their staff, never any recriminations when we let things get a bit ahead of us.
Insane schedule?
I think we’re going into the dry erase monthly calendar mode here.
Nurses coming two or three times a week, same with PT guy, add to that doctor appointments for both of us, and vet appointments for two dogs.
I cannot keep things straight. He almost missed a doctor’s appointment yesterday.
The Med Center talking pill alarm seems to be working well. We can only hope the dry erase calendar will do as well.
PT goals
The PT guy asked me what my goals are for The Curmudgeon with his PT sessions.
My goals for him, are to get him where he can do some simple things around here once again, like taking the dogs out on occasion without making it a huge production.
Walking to the car and back without needing the transfer chair part of his rollator.
Walking up and down stairs and back and forth to the bathroom safely a couple of times a day.
Little things for most people. Huge things for us.
I haven’t slept a good solid eight hours since October when he went into the hospital the first time. Why? Because he used to take care of the dogs in the mornings so I could sleep.
I want to see him have to use this less.
The nursing and PT schedule for this week is already crazy
Here’s the thing, The Curmudgeon needs his health monitored for a while after five hospital stays in four months.
He also needs physical therapy, and if they can do it at home, all the better.
The problem is, the nurses feel like invaders in my home. I haven’t met the PT guy yet, that comes later today.
The nurses call the day before, or sometimes on the day of, to let us know when they will arrive–that’s quickly changed since I raised hell about the idea of them deciding when it was convenient for them to arrive. Screw that, they will arrive when it is convenient for us. We aren’t paid to be here for them, they are paid to be here for us.
They all remind me of my ‘entitled’ and estranged sister who is also a nurse. Is the art of being a complete asshole part of the curriculum in nurses training? Or are we just lucky?
I got sucked in
My mind has been so screwed up lately that I have become a prime target for the games they throw at you on the computer.
I’ve developed a need for mindless entertainment so I can keep a toe hold on my sanity.
I am ashamed to say I now have an Age of Empires addiction. I may need an intervention.
Don’t forget next week is Westminster!
Looking forward to watching the Westminster Dog Show. I’ve watched the show every year since they began to televise it.
The Curmudgeon and I compete on picking the winners.
I usually beat him.
Don’t call before noon.
What is so difficult to understand about that sentence?
We tell everyone the same thing. Very few people take it to heart or understand that we really do mean it.
With as busy as the dogs and The Curmudgeon keep me jumping all day, I barely get enough rest until long after they all settle down for the night.
I seldom fall asleep before four a.m.
Therefore, it is no wonder I am cranky, bitchy, and mean as hell when the phone rings before I’ve had a decent number of hours sleep and coffee by the gallon.
Doggonedmysteries 