So you’re going to share it with us, right? What did s\he do?!
L once appeared on Springer, or Sally Jesse, or some such, based purely on her weight issues. I’m firmly of the opinion that your business is your own, and I have never ever even once watched an episode of Sally or Jerry. I don’t want to know the details of my so-called normal friends’ personal lives, much less the challenges faced by a woman approaching “fused to the sofa” weight!
Don’t get me wrong, please. I’ve known L for 30 years, in a smile and nod sense. I would never be unkind to her. In fact, I’ve gone out of my way to try to help her in the recent past - retrieving her and her motorized wheelchair from Walmart at 3 am, moving her horse to a new pasture, that sort of thing. But again, I don’t want to know her sexual history. Nor her husband’s, nor where those histories diverge. And especially not an opinion on God’s ideas about marriage, when husband’s notions of marriage start including lot lizards and bath house pickups.
slumtrimpet, is your brother coherent enough to have a face to face with Sis, and tell her that he’s done with this life and that the best thing she can do for him right now is to just BE there? Don’t do…BE. Or have his hospice worker or doc have a really serious ‘he is dying, you are not helping him’ conversation? Because though her heart is in the right place, and I’m sure she’s struggling with it all, what she’s doing sounds almost cruel 
Lacunae Matata, good lord woman, you certainly do deserve a break! Is there anyone you could get to come and keep an eye on him for even 1/2 a day a week so you can do something selfish, just for you? Not grocery shopping and errand running, but a spa day or a movie, or just rent a motel room and sleep without familiar household sounds poking at your subconscious? I’m glad he’s on the mend, but that 24/7 care (with or without giant puppy!) is mentally exhausting. And just plain ‘yikes!’ to the overshare…
My stupid car thing last summer cost me $500* because I broke a neighbour’s car mirror - that felt pretty damned stupid, too. Could I wait for the truck blocking the alley (which was the only way into our street at that point due to paving)? Oh no. I had to try to squeak through. I would have made it if not for the damned mirrors touching, too. :mad:
Resisting…obvious…Apple plug. 
Hugs to everyone here - that’s a lot going on there, people!
*$500 was the cost to replace the mirror - the same price as my insurance deductible. Coincidence? Sure. Why not?
They make laptops that cost less than $500?!
Doesn’t matter. DH remembered that we bought a warranty. The warranty place told me this morning they will replace the sucker.
Yeah!
But since this is the pit my back has hurt like hell for three days. Ouch ouch ouch OUCH. I lean back it hurts. I walk it hurts. I bend down it hurts.
It gets easier the more you do it.
Hope you’re OK.
Ahhhhhh dammit. Just had another call transferred to me from another office in the building. It just hit me; at some point I was giving out the wrong extension. No telling how many people have the wrong number for me now.
Thanks for the sympathy, y’all. I was mostly concerned about the deductible, but I have a work bonus coming shortly and March is a three-paycheck month. Silver linings… Progressive has fairly good claim handling, so that’s one less thing to worry about. Shoulders, wrists, and thumbs are hurting today, I assume from bracing myself against the steering wheel… everything else hurts less though, woo.
People who call themselves “mommy” or “daddy” in relation to their pets: Stop. You are creepy.
Seconded. Besides cats own you not the other way around. Human cat employee is far more appropriate than human cat mommy.
Look, we’ve been posting in the same threads for a while now, and, well, I haven’t told anyone this, because I’m afraid that they’ll give me that look, you know the one, or just walk away in the middle of the story, but when my cats call me “Mommy”, well, it’s actually because I gave birth to them, I know, I knew you of all people would understand, you just seem so niiiice, but see, the thing is, my husband doesn’t know that he’s not the father, but I think he’s starting to wonder…
Ya know, digs, it’s a damn good thing February is almost over, because you just practically ruined a month’s worth of recreational outrage and vicarious anger with such a laugh-out-loud post.
Boy, March can’t get here soon enough…
Brother is very grateful to have us here caring for him. He has a pretty good idea of where she’s coming from. Fortunately, mr. trimpet, md (yes, he really is) gently suggested she let brother BE. She listens to him, not me. On the other hand, last night she gave him chocolate biscuits (in her defence, he asked for them - we had no idea they were even in the house) which may well be a good thing since they’ll add to the toxins in his body and that’ll hurry things along a bit. Death by chocolate anyone? 
OMG, seconded! Lacunae Matata, you are doing a much, much harder job than I am and you’re doing it alone! You have my deepest sympathies. Please don’t wear yourself down to a nub because then you won’t be any good to anyone. I’ve seen your posts regarding your husband and understand why you’re doing all that you can for him. But maybe he should do a bit more himself too if he can. It wouldn’t hurt. It’s very easy to slip into letting someone else wait on you hand and foot. He will recover and he may even do it a little faster if he has to push himself.
But mostly; what saje said.
Stayed in a hotel last night because power is still out from fallen limbs.
Some time during the night, the cats pushed the bedroom door shut and trapped themselves inside.
Cats, being biological creatures, have biological functions.
Having no choice in the matter, the ‘functioned’ at least once somewhere in the bedroom.
So I have to look forward to a cat-shit-smelling bedroom when I get home, unless SO makes it home and has time to search/destroy/febreeze/open windows/light candles/wash EVERTYTHING.
It’s been a year since my liver/kidney transplant, and after some rejection issues I seemed fine. Until earlier this month…
I got a frantic call from my post-transplant coordinator after blood work had been done. My potassium level was way too high, and I should get to an emergency room NOW or i might suffer a heart attack. I had no problems other than a funny rattle when i took a breath, so I had to wait till the next day to get a ride to the ER.
Of course, the K level was just fine by then, but the Xray showed a fluid buildup, so I was scheduled for tests at the hospital in Pittsburgh. After making the trip there, they admitted me for the whole weekend and did several tests, after which a surgeon announced to me that i would require more surgery.
Ir seems that the fluid problem from my prior liver failure was not completrly corrected, and I had more fluid on my left lung, They drew out a liter of bloody fluid and the surgeon informed me that I need another operstion to remove scar tussue from the lung which has been building up, so that the lung can reinflate normally.
And the kicker- He can’t do it with a less invasive procedure, he has to open my chest fully to get in and take out the tissue. 4-6 weeks recovery in hospital.
Going to his clinic on the 14th of March to get details, Yay.
I wish you luck,** The Mad Hermit**.
A few things. It seems they don’t keep many snow plows in the West Texas panhandle. To be forgiven, perhaps, due to the fact that they seldom need them. But when they do, like they did this week, it takes them a couple days to get I-40 open again.
The above would be no big deal to me, because I seldom venture that way. EXCEPT somebody decided that if you can’t make it to Amarillo, then you need to shut down I-40 in the middle of Albuquerque, a couple hundred miles to the west, where they only got a frosting of snow and own a few snowplows that can deal with a lot more than that.
Now I know full well that many people, especially truckers do jump on the 40 and go for hundreds of miles. But why am I the only one who seems to know that where interstates pass through heavily populated areas, they also handle a lot of strictly local traffic. Well, somebody knows it, cause otherwise they wouldn’t need to add all those extra lanes. There are sizable bedroom communities just east of Albuquerqe normally served by 6 lanes of I-40 + 2 lanes of old Rt66.
I guess I should be pitting drivers that won’t heed “You won’t make Amarillo, and there will not be enough Hotel rooms where you get stuck, so hole up in Albuquerque or you’re fucked!” warnings. So they have to close the fucking interstate and totally jack up the traffic in Albuquerque. This leaves only old Rt66 for locals to get their kicks on. This is fed by 3 eastbound 35-40mph lanes through town, but chokes down to a single 35mph lane with a traffic light at the edge of town. Thus Central/66 through Albuquerqe was averaging MAYBE 3 mph.
Which brings me to the fuckers who really need pitting: YES you fucking well CAN help the fact that you are stranded in the middle of the fucking intersection blocking cross traffic, allowing only 3-5 cars through each cycle of the light. You don’t fucking enter an intersection if you can’t proceed through it, unless you are a clueless fucking asshole. GOD I would love to live somewhere where the vehicle operators are also drivers.
The Mad Hermit, Good thoughts and sympathies. Hope all goes well in the end.
Hugs to both slumtrimpet and The Mad Hermit. Families and bodies suck.
So, I’ve been renting a vehicle for three weeks now. Due back tomorrow. Not a scratch, nothing, despite some bad driving conditions due to weather here and there. Today, I parked in a ramp I hate, but every other ramp was full. I swear I was going 2mph. We’re talking just took my foot off the brake to pull up to the pay window. Hit their camera with the drivers’ side mirror and it broke. Casing cracked, mirror held on only by cables. I drove home having to frequently open the window in 30F weather to try and prop the mirror back into the holder, only to have it plop out.
Of course, since my usual car is a hoopty, I have bare bones insurance. FML. I should have paid the extra for insurance, but I cheaped out. Dammit. Expensive lesson.