Valentine nails via shipment from Llarowe. Ludurana Aurora Boreal Maravil Hosa, Glitter Gal 10 to Midnight, Glitter Gal Type O Sparkle
Went shopping at the 99 last night, but it’s getting way to bougie for me.
(I don’t know when I drafted this, possibly a month ago. I started it and ended up distracted, so I saved it as a draft and went away for a while. Gonna finish and do a new post.)
Tennis - Marathon
I’m feeling really good right this second and I have a few minutes before my chivalrous men (my beau and his father) come home and we all bend over the hood of a my Cadillac and get our hands dirty. It’s supposed to be a team effort, but I have a feeling I will be regulated to Googling RPO codes and passing out warm slices of pumpkin bread.
When all is said and done, my car will be safe again. Working brakes are a virtue.
Unfortunately, my chivalrous men cannot help me as far as my body is concerned, unless this is a Jackie Treehorn feature and I had no idea. The ultra disgusting mutated, mishapen, grotesque bodily organ disease I have is back with a vengeance and it looks like another surgery may be in my near future. Thankfully, I recently was hired on as a ~real~ employee at the mega-corporation I work for, so my insurance situation has been greatly improved over the plan my temp agency offered. I’ve been using up my company’s HRA money like there’s no tomorrow (actually if there was no tomorrow, I wouldn’t bother).
This time around I feel like I can look at my medical situation in a different light. I’m not scared anymore and though kidney failure would be so lame, I think I can put it off. I’ve always been a fantastic procrastinator. This time, the doctors visits are more annoying and funny than somber and terrifying.
My first day diving back into the taking care of myself thing was an adventure. My blood pressure is out of control and all in one day, the following happened:
- A gynecologist’s nurse took my blood pressure and said it was normal, at 120/80 exactly and didn’t understand why I told her I was seeing a doctor about my blood pressure later on in the day. That blew my mind, because I take my bp a couple times every day and without medication, it hadn’t been that low in years. Later on, my doubts as far as her basic medical abilities were confirmed, when it logged in at 190/110.
- At the internal medicine doc, I was told they wanted to take blood and do an ultrasound to confirm the extent of kidney damage. I went into a dirty little room and got nude from the waist up for the nurse. They suited me up with one of those paper vests and started pummeling me with the ultrasound wand. After a while and some confused “huh?” action from the nurse, she told me she wanted a urine sample. I started to put my shirt back on and she said, oh, it’s ok. We’re the only ones here and the bathroom is right next door, if you want to just go over there. Now, I was sticky with ultrasound jelly and my glorious chesticles were not well covered. I had my doubts, but decided to test the waters and take a step out. As soon as I did, I noticed directly across from me was another open room, with a patient standing inside staring at me. Instead of doing the rational thing and immediately going back into the room I was in, putting my clothes on and leaving for another doctor, I sprinted to the bathroom and locked myself in. Oh, I gave them their pee sample. It was one of my cleaner, better productions. Of course, then I was trapped. Trapped in a bathroom with a cup of my own pee. I stayed in there about 15 minutes and people were knocking on the door while I yelled occupado! Eventually I decided to just let them hang loose and go back to the ultrasound room to finish what I started.
This visit also included the nurse at one point, leaning over my body to get to some nook she wanted to image, whispering in my ear “You are very warm.” and then later three nurses being unable to operate one of the machines, until the doctor’s assistant came in and restarted it. I let them take my blood, as well.
I remember one last piece of advice given me. It was during the exuberance of the rich and frantic ’20s, and I was going out into that world to try to be a writer. I was told, “It’s going to take a long time, and you haven’t got any money. Maybe it would be better if you could go to Europe.” “Why?” I asked. “Because in Europe poverty is a misfortune, but in America it is shameful. I wonder whether or not you can stand the shame of being poor.” It wasn’t too long afterward that the depression came. Then everyone was poor and it was no shame anymore. (via John Steinbeck – A Letter For Beginners « Zee’s Wordly Obsessions
Update, in a few words.
Back in May I went on a motorcycle trip to Utah. I can say it was fun now, because it’s months later and I have forgotten what it is like to be horrifically sick while hiking. Sick to the point, my eyes had swollen until I could barely see and at one point, I puked into a beautiful mountain crevice. But hindsight, rose-tinted glasses, and Flickr have convinced me it was a good experience.
The rest of the month was uneventful. I have worked nonstop, barely had an ounce of fun, minus birthday (I’m 24 now) adventures at Medieval Times and a seedy IE stripclub. Other than that, the honeybuns cutiepie loverface and I have been sitting around watching tv and movies, as if they were free for the pirating and have for the most part, forsaken social outings.
Other than THAT, we are looking for a place to buy. I mean, he is looking for a place to buy. I am looking for a place to contribute to a mortgage payment, which otherwise I have no part on, aside from house/condo picking and decorating. We’re still looking, but we have found some promising prospects. We might be playing house for real soon.
Earlier in the month we went to Florida, to the moist (stop pretending you hate that word) lands I spent my teen years in. I love it there. I don’t care, I mean, people say Florida citizens are weirdos and hillbilly swamp people and white trash, and they are, but it’s also really pretty there and the people in the particular beach community I love the most are typically harmless, lovable drunks and tourists. It was fun, we met up with my mother and sisters straight outta Sverige and took in a lot of dolphin watching and sand dollar hunting. I think if I lived there, I would end up with a spectacular beach bod from all the gulf swimming I’d do, because the Gulf of Mexico beaches are the BEST beaches in the country. Absolutely, no lies. Try them, you’ll like them. However, to live there, I’d trade my pudge for horrible Florida humidity hair, and I just don’t think I could do that. I suppose that’s why people retire there.