That’s how I feel about Free Bird.
I’m free! I’ve just ripped off that goddam Holter monitor that I had to wear for nearly 48 hours. I thought it would be much less of an ordeal than the previous one that pumped up a blood pressure sleeve every 30 minutes or so, but it was pretty miserable.
I think my problems began after the ultrasound when I had to wait about 20 or 30 minutes for someone to show up to attach the monitor. By the time she arrived I was fumbling with my shirt and jacket and getting pissed off, and without really thinking about it the first words out of my mouth were “I was just about to give up and leave”.
Well! Talk about setting the wrong tone right from the start! She immediately marked me as a Crotchety Old Fart (which at the point wasn’t too far from the truth, though I’m usually very pleasant to strangers, it’s just that patience is not my strong point). She exacted her revenge by attaching the electrodes not only with the standard sticky pads, but by slathering on lots of additional tape apparently made with the same super-adhesive used for the space shuttle heat tiles. When I commented, she said “we don’t want any of them to fall off, or we’ll have to do it all over again”. My Crotchety Old Fart brain immediately constructed a reply: “No, bitch, I don’t care if they all fall off, ‘we’ are not doing this again!” Fortunately, this time I was able to suppress the reply.
And now I have itchy red spots where the electrodes had been attached. I do so appreciate the expertise, thoroughness and courtesy of my cardiologist, who also has a large, beautiful office that’s a pleasure to visit, and the radiologist who did the ultrasound was also very pleasant, but I definitely did not hit it off with his Holter monitor wench.
Several months ago my cat started showing an inordinate interest in trying to get under my couch. He was hunkered down behind it (the couch is in the middle of the living room, rather than against the wall) and occasionally reaching under with one paw. A few days later I came out of my office to find a dead mouse on the living room floor, with Rascal lying about a foot away looking inordinately pleased with himself. The mouse showed no signs of having been eaten, so I thanked the mighty hunter for his service, picked up the corpse and tossed it over the side of my deck so it could be returned to nature.
Lately he’s been climbing up to the top of some stacked boxes of books, meowing and pawing/scratching at them. I’m wondering if I have another intruder in the house, or whether this is another of Rascal’s attempts to mess with my mind, like his occasional mad runs through the house.
Way back when I lived with my parents in Fort Washington, we developed a mouse problem. They were mainly in a crawlspace on the lower level. The crawlspace was accessed through a panel in a bathroom wall. The crawlspace ended right under the stairs. Goliath, our beloved miniature dachshund, spent hours and hours sitting on those stares. He woudl snarl and do his best to dig through to the other side.
Meh. I’m not going to ask that it be played at my funeral, but I found it to be an innocuous, if kinda stupid and pointless, novelty song. If it gets added to the SDMB holiday Spotify playlist, I won’t bother skipping it.
ETA: I have no intention of nominating it for the playlist.
I read the lyrics, and while it’s a bit on the inane side, I’ve read worse.
Well done Target the Ninja foodi 8qt 2 basket air fryer arrived yesterday in its own box, what was I thinking regarding the other shipment? That an appliance the size of a microwave oven would be tossed in a lightweight box to ship 
I should’ve realized it immediately.
Also the Squatty potties arrived lol one for everyone! 
I heard it at Target too! I thought WTF is that? Thankfully that’s the only time I’ve heard it.
I did get knocked out of Whamageddeon at Kohl’s. I was in the regular part of the store and heard an awful remix of Last Christmas but figured I was safe. Then I went into the Sephora section where they have their own music… and they played the original. Grr.
Blech.
That’s what the eggnog I bought tastes like. The expensive egg nog from the local dairy. It’s the same consistency as regular milk, is way too sweet and has a weird aftertaste to it. Massive disappointment. And there’s a whole quart of it, too.
I usually buy a pint of nog from WalMart since they are the only place around here that stocks that size, but for some reason they aren’t selling it this year. I’ve always liked that nog.
Now I have to figure out what to do with the rest of this crap. I hate throwing stuff away. I do have a recipe for eggnog poundcake, but I’d have to make 3 of them to use all this up.
I’ve learned to be practical in situations like that, and consider that life’s too short to worry about waste if something is really disappointing or unappetizing.
It’s unfortunate – eggnog is cheery stuff at this time of year – but I’d throw it out and consider it a lesson learned (speaking of lessons learned, don’t pour it down the sink, pour it down the toilet, if you recall my plumbing horror story about dumping pasta sauce down the sink). Then buy eggnog you’ll enjoy. There are a few reliable brands of eggnog I usually buy.
I’m failing to see the problem 
.
When I do stuff like this I call it my “stupid tax” and move on.
Payments are made regularly it seems.
You should be able to pull the oven away from the wall to check for an opening behind it.
You might put one of the snap traps back there, too.
Yeah, I rationalize it as (a) it’s a sunk cost, and it’s not going to break the bank, and (b) life’s too short to fret about this kind of shit or feel guilty about it. It’s only “waste” if there’s a realistic opportunity of donating it to a food bank or such. Otherwise, some food you don’t really like is just an albatross around your neck, and the albatross needs to be shot and disposed of so that your short life moves on with maximum enjoyment and a minimum of negativity.
Three full-size bundt cakes, 2 people in this household, one of whom doesn’t like eggnog. That there is the problem.
The rest of y’all are right, I know, just throw it out. I’ve used up my eggnog budget for this year, though, so I won’t be buying any more.
I buy some groceries at Target, as they cannot be found anywhere else in my neighborhood. While searching for a grocery store in my neighborhood, my beloved found quite a few independent mini marts. One of these is within easy walking distance and has a wide variety of junk food. I was happy to see that Target was selling egg nog. I was ecstatic to find the mini mart was selling a brand that proved superior and was cheaper.
My sister helped me find a desk with attached shelves on Wayfair. She also paid about 70% of the cost. My beloved helped me carry all the unassembled pieces from the entry hall up to my 3rd floor apartment. Assmebing the desk will be so very much easier and faster with the help of a friend who can bring an electric screwdriver. My bro Howard said he would be happy to help. He was supposed to conact me this past week to arrange a time. He never did. I never got around to contacting him either.
He should be able to visit relatively soon. I was planning on also having him help me move the oven, and check for holes in various cabinets.
My little brother retired a few years ago and moved to Colorado to be near his son. He was just diagnosed with atrial fibrillation and was going on for ablation in a few weeks.
He died Friday. Total shock.
My condolences @kayaker; that’s a bad situation for everyone.
Peace be with you.
He was nervous about having ablation done because a friend of his died during the procedure. I told him it was no big deal (I really thought it wasn’t).