Oh, I’m sure! :rolleyes:
I guess maybe I’m the only one who feels this way because I just turned on CNN and the brilliant doctor Ben Carson reiterated pretty much what my relative had said. He said to get the country back on the Christian track and then much later will worry about whether the president is a decent person or not.
Turning CNN back off now and ending my rant. Please go back to your regularly scheduled non political rants
That sounds about right, since a scratched cornea should heal within a day of the injury, in my unfortunately vast experience as a young and careless contact lens wearer. They are blessedly fast-healing.
I guess this will be a minirant, since I’m unwilling to be specific. I’m tired of shitty things happening, both in my personal life and health related things. Just when I thought I could stop worrying about Trump, I have to have other, more personal problems.
And I’m tired of worrying that any one thing I might say, as innocuous as I’m trying to be, might set people off, and then them refusing to accept that I didn’t mean what they thought I meant.
I’m tired of being asked to take on things when I’m barely handling my own life.
On the road. Do a McDonald’s drive thru. Order a cheeseburger happy meal with apple slices instead of fries. Get my order. Could smell fries as I pull away. Get down the highway and reach for the cheeseburger. Came up empty. No cheeseburger. Ok, so I start digging for the Apple slices. No Apple slices.
But I got fries!
And two toys!
I was strangely ok with that. I had a banana with me, so I had that instead. Better off I suppose.
Tax prep software.
At the end, after signing in with an identity and a password and a security question, entering address and phone number, employer information, W-2s, mortgage info, property tax info, charitable deductions, dependents, age, SSN, health care status, last year’s adjusted gross income, PIN, and – of all things – my driver’s license number, I cannot proceed to file unless I can read the numbers in the captcha window.
Really? That’s what’s going to make the difference in deciding whether I’m legitimate?
[Some Shadowy Council of Powers That Be]“We know everything about him except whether he can accurately read and enter these 5 colored numbers!”[/Some Shadowy Council of Powers That Be]
Mistermage took my ancient blender to the shop to, I guess, speed up the tomato juice making he and his BFF did over the week-end. Today, when I went to powder some Maitake mushrooms (hen of the woods/ grifola frondosa) the oldest son and I harvested over the week-end that was perfectly dehydrated, he was like “The plastic bottom has a crack in it. But it will be totes ok.”
I got peeved… no, pissed. Because I don’t have all that many things that are “mine” because I just am not acquisitive but the blender was mine. In 3 years no one else has used it barring one time the middle son made his girlfriend a milkshake. Not because I forbade it but because no one else uses it, KWIM?
So he made the magnanimous gesture of filling the blender with dried mushrooms and running it. And, as usual, when it stopped powdering I tried to tell him to shut it off, take it off the base, leave the lid on and shake it to move the stuff around. I got as far as “shut it off” and he was banging the whole unit on the counter. And then there was a puff of shroom of powder blasting out. A second crack which basically destroyed the blender.
Now, it’s at least 40 years old and was from an auction but I had put 3 solid years of using it without breaking it.
Now I am stuck with 2 freezer bags of dehydrated mushrooms that need to be powdered because they were a bit woody/tough so powdering would have been the ideal preserving method. Another bowl of those to be dried and a second bowl to be dehydrated that I had planned on leaving whole because they were perfect and clean which means I will have to be explicit in labelling on the off chance I get a blender before X-Mas, our anniversary or my birthday.
Let alone now I will have to dry and store whole my sage, oregano and celery leaves that I must pick tomorrow because tomorrow night the first frost will be here. Usually I dry and powder this stuff (separately and mixed together with sea salt as a seasoning mix).
If it was a car tool or anything to do with his projects he would have ordered a replacement and probably with 2 day delivery.
I plan on being cranky for some time to come. Because a smart man (and he usually is one) would have said “Guess what I just found and bought for you on ebay/amazon?” It’s not like he didn’t just buy a golf cart to ride around on (he doesn’t golf) and not like I need an uber expensive replacement (I was happy with my olive green oster blender). But maybe a second dehydrator since even with extra shelves* I am running mine 24/7 for various things. Next year we will have even more to do (fruit trees he planted).
An apology would have been nice, too.
*Extra shelves because he washed my original one (immersed it) and decided to dry it in the oven. Yeah, it melted. This from the man with a college degree and is usually very smart (can do electrical, plumbing, car repair, roofing, gardening and on and on let alone his daily job which requires a level 3 certification for quality inspection utilizing radiation.) So he bought me a second dehydrator and I use the old shelves along with the new and just allow for more time.
Mistymage, did you TELL him he’s getting you a new blender? Not for a birthday or anniversary present, but as a* replacement* for the one he broke? Mine now knows he would be replacing the blender, but when I started training him I’d say things like, “When will my new blender be here?” and I’d keep asking until it was.
It goes two ways. I can’t think of anything of his I find useful, but if I broke something of his I’d replace it.
I’m sorry about your blender! 
Spent all day Monday in the hospital, for a heart catheterization test. I had to lie flat on my back for over six hours, without bending my knees, and I knew that would play havoc with my spinal stenosis. As a result I had to spend most of Tuesday in bed (NOT flat on my back), able to stand up only with extreme pain. I wish there were some medication I could take for this pain, but there isn’t.
And now I’m not supposed to drive for three days or lift anything for a week. And I have to drink ten glasses of water (and only water) a day, to flush out the contrast dye used in the test.
But the good news: The cath test turned out ok; my quadruple bypasses from four years ago are “beautiful.” So at least I won’t be needing another heart surgery soon. This means now I can finally have my back surgery.
I’m going back to the wonderful world of the self-employed working on a project basis. And my next project is in Barcelona, which happens to be Spain’s second-thoughest rental market.
Student? No problem. Erasmus? OK, pay all three months in advance and otherwise no problem. Self-employed? “No self-employeds” “Deposit, bank guarantee, and all your tax paperwork from the last three years” “No self-employeds” “Oh, sorry, no, we don’t rent to self-employed…”
The owner of Zara is self employed. And the people who own Banco Santander. And the guy who owns AC Hoteles (well, ok, now he “only” owns 50% of them). May people who are allergic to us self-employed break into a genital rash if they ever wear something from Inditex, bank with a private bank, or stay in a privately owned hotel! :mad:
A while back, the wife of an old foster brother had friended me on FB, then shown herself to be a rabidly stupid right winger.
Well, she posted this thing claiming that we spend $1 trillion a year just on welfare for illegal aliens. :rolleyes:
I replied that the US spent a combined total of somewhere around $350 billion a year (I gave the exact budget number) and illegal aliens were not eligible to collect. Her response was “if you don’t like it, don’t read it.”
So I told her about how my family had gone to Berean Baptist, and how the Bereans were praised in the bible for not simply believing everything they were taught, but for going home and checking the scriptures to see if they were correct. I told her that her post was flagrantly, wildly wrong and she shouldn’t be posting things like that as a Christian. Again, she responded that if I didn’t like it, I didn’t have to read her posts.
So I told her that she was very deliberately slandering the government with something she knew was wrong, she was therefore NOT a Christian and not a good person, and I wanted nothing to do with her. I unfriended her immediately.
Well, well, well… Turns out they’re looking to come mooch off my parents over the holidays and she was telling my mother that she’s worried that she shouldn’t come, but not why.
Sure, come on bitch. Come up and speak your lies and slander in front of me. I’ll be happy to burn you to the ground.
{{{{{{Hugs}}}}}}
I hear you.
Hey, gym jerkoff. Yeah, you. The one talking loudly on your phone, which is on speaker, as you hold it two inches away from your ear— which provides exactly 0% benefit to you, while annoying 100% of the people around you who are trying to exercise or change clothing, and who now get to hear both sides of the long, stupid conversation about absolutely nothing that you’re having with a similarly dull-sounding woman over a shitty, tinny phone speaker.
I’m tempted to ask why, I’d rather just pray that a heavily-laden barbell drops on your larynx.
Offer to spot.
I thought about just being cranky and not cooking dinner (not like the man can’t cook better than me… he did a stint as a line-chef at a nice restaurant back as a teen) but I decided to follow your advice.
First I asked when I was getting a new blender. He said he’d buy a replacement piece. I said good luck with finding a 40 year old replacement piece… but, hey there is the exact same blender on ebay right now for $25 or you can buy me a brand new one for the same amount of money. They’ll probably last the same amount of time (old quality vs new crap).
He dithered and blathered but said he would buy me one… so now begins the waiting game.
I’ll buy myself a new one Monday if I don’t hear “it’s ordered and on its way” before then. And he had best not make any plans for the week-end because the Honey-Do list just gained a few items pushed up into “need done now” column that he had put off in order to do fun things this past summer.
So I was walking out of Walmart today and two high school overachievers blocked my path to ask for my help because “they are trying to cut funding for D.A.R.E.!”
Wtf?! D.A.R.E. is still a thing? My wife responded that we didn’t have time but I just had to stop. They should cut funding. I thought the program died 6 or 7 years ago. My school participated in the program in the 90s and it wasn’t prevention, it was advertising FFS. Don’t do drugs, but here’s where to find them and how to use them and what kind of high you’ll get from each drug. You’re in the 5th grade at a middle class suburban elementary school, so you should know the difference in intensity and duration of your high if you shoot or snort or smoke heroin.
One of the overachievers froze. The other assured me that the program has been revamped 7 times and now focuses on social media safety and cyber bullying. Really? It’s a different program with a different focus but it has the same name and logo?
I started working with professionals in the addiction prevention field a few years ago. I learned pretty quickly that if you want to set them off on a rant, just mention DARE. But make sure you have the time.
When I was in the hospital Monday, lying flat on my back for over 6 hours, not allowed to even raise my head … at one point they served me a meal. I couldn’t even see what was on the tray; it was higher than my head. I felt around and got something that turned out to be chicken, which I was able to eat with my hands. The side dish was plain white rice. How do you eat rice while lying flat on your back? It was like “We dare you to get some of this in your mouth.”
A better idea would have been some kind of shake with a bendy straw.
When I ended up staying in the hospital post-surgery due to airway trauma, which also resulted in lacerations and abrasions all along my lips, mouth, tongue and throat, my first meal after a 56 hour fast? Chicken parmesan. Plenty of red sauce. Acidic red sauce. And orange juice.
I had to send it away and ask for a cheese sandwich. Pretty much the most pathetic meal of my life.
I had the same thing happen to me after a myelogram, and by the time they brought me dinner it had been almost twenty-four hours since I’d had anything to eat. It was corned beef and cabbage, which is one of my favorite things to eat, and I was so hungry I raised my head and ate anyway. I ended up with a monster headache. I like the shake idea; I wonder why they don’t do that.
My local hospital does have shakes, creams and consommes going from “almost water” to “the spoon is trying to stand up”, but unless they’ve been ordered by the doctors you have to remember to ask about them (they ask what would you like from the day’s options when you get breakfast). I wonder if other hospitals might also have those options but people don’t know about them.