Ow. Ow. Ow. I was supposed to go in for Laproscopy. Turns out, things got more complicated, so they had to fillet me. Now instead of 3 weeks of recovery, I have 6. And I hurt. I don’t wanna hurt any more. Please?
Results are in: the cats don’t care which box is in the preferred location.
I told the friend I house-sit for I was available whenever she needed me. I didn’t think it would be this soon! I got home Sunday afternoon and I’m going back tomorrow.
I’d have said “500 AMPS??!!?? In a package that small? Move over, I’m buying all you have, and I’ll reverse-engineer them!”
So the new bed arrives today. The problem is I had to re move a queen size waterbed which had been in place for about 20 years.
This entailed trying to siphon water out of the bladders with a garden hose and draining it to a lower level than the bed. You have to suck as if you have lungs like a racehorse. Then you get a mouth full of water. And of course you can’t tell if it is just shitty recent water left in the house or 20 year old shitty water from the waterbed.
I tried rinsing my mouth with Listerine then reverted to beer. I am certain I will get Legionairres Disease or scurvy and die.
Try a squirt of lemon or lime in your beer to help prevent scurvy. 
Demerol, if you can get it. You might feel an occasional twinge of pain, but you won’t give a shit. I’ve had a laparoscopy, and I’ve had the filleting. For what it’s worth, it WILL get better, but baby yourself. DON’T try to lift anything heavier than a wet washcloth.
No Demerol for YOU. No beer, either. I prescribe tequila or whiskey.
Lemon in beer? I’m no sensitive new age guy. The only thing I like in my beer is more beer. (On a sad note I have to see my doctor this morning. I’ll probably breath alcohol fumes (or scurvy) all over. She is one of those incredibly thin, healthy types).
Sad thing Lyn is I have about four bottles of 12 and 18 year old Glenfiddich sitting unopened from my last trip to Scotland. I don’t know why I bought it- I don’t touch spirits or wine.
I hate that type of doctor. And I will take those bottles off your hands, just to save you from yourself. And I’ll even buy you more beer so you won’t feel deprived. Whether you put lemon in it is your own business, but if the beer is any good at all, it shouldn’t need any citrus in it.
Offers gentle hugs and some oxycoden. I’ve not had that surgery, but pain isn’t good. Be gentle to yourself and pay attention to what the doctor tells you.
I’m glad you got time with your kitties. When I was reading the thread, I knew that it was location, location, location. Mine are the same. Except for Spike who was the one who freaked out when he saw a purple box in their room and ran into the outside room and started sleeping with his face in the waterbowl.
Cheap hand pumps would work for that. I got mine from an auto supply place because I needed to pump the gas out of my jeep so I could beat the skid plates flat. I kept dropping the jeep on rocks and got to the point that I could only put 8 gallons in a 12 gallon tank.
Of course, now you have rinsed your mouth with so much beer that its too late to go to Napa. I hope you do enjoy your new bed!
I’ve got a complaint about my beloved Pontiac in that I cannot get the door over the gas cap to stay CLOSED nless I whack it with a BANG. I think the latch needs adjusting or something.
On behalf of Scotland, we’d like it back please. I’ll act as Ambassador to take it from you, and make sure it gets a good home 
Felt so crappy yesterday, but how could I have forgotten the capper? After all that emotional slogging, I ended the day giving an impromptu amateur abortion counseling session to one of Mr. Shoe’s co-workers, who went and got knocked up recently by her absolute shitbag of an ex.
She only recently got up the courage to move out, call off the wedding, etc. and now this. I didn’t tell her what to do; I told her what to expect (based on personal experience) and tried to remind her without lecturing what a terrible idea it is to link yourself forever to someone who doesn’t have your back. She’s scared, confused, etc. and told me she thinks that whatever decision she makes, she’ll regret it forever. 
Plus I was wearing heels yesterday and was tired as all hell so I didn’t stop by the Goodwill dropoff and so my car is still a moving storage unit of bad childhood memories and assorted random crap.
I need … the emotional equivalent of a nap. Is such a thing possible?
Incubus: earplugs, baby.
I thought the emotional equivalent of a nap WAS a nap?
(though a drunken bender would do it, too, I suppose.)
Why do I never think of my car complaints? My Cavalier has a habit of turning on the overhead light when I go over a bump. Not all the time, and never consistently, and I have no idea what to do about it.
I’ll go over a bunch of railroad tracks and nothing but I’ll hit a dip in the road and it goes on. Sometimes it is the tracks, and sometimes it doesn’t seem to be bothered. A loose wire? Something with the door? It doesn’t make sense and it’s annoying!
For the love of og, people, label your photos, especially if you intend your descendents to treasure them forever. I swear I am going to start a blog/webcomic titled: Who The Hell ARE These People? Possibly with LOL captions.
On the up side, I had never seen photos of my mother as a baby or toddler before. And some of those were labeled.
I am proud of myself for the number of vacation postcards and pictures that I threw away. They were from Great Grandma B and Great Uncle W. So they had been kept by GGB, then inherited by Grandma B, then inherited by my mother. I broke the chain. If it was a photo of a lake, mountain, or car with no person showing in it and nothing on the back besides “Mono Lake”, it was gone. And after the fifth photo of GGB standing by her car, the rest of those were gone, too.
I feel lighter.
Hey neighbor, no I don’t fucking want to go to your stupid fucking pampered chef party. Get off your lazy fat ass and go find a job if you’re that short of money. The only time you invite me to your house is when you try to sell me overpriced crap.
This could go in the workplace thread, I suppose, but I was just coming back up the hallway from the restroom and a woman was walking towards me, nose buried in her little gizmo. I gave a bright, chipper “Oops, excuse me!” when she nearly smacked right into me (she was walking down the middle of the corridor) and she didn’t even look up!!!
I’ve been thinking that we need a term for these cellphone zombies that are wandering around everywhere.
Have you checked the switch that controls the interior lights? Most of the time, this is combined with the dimmer switch. It’s entirely possible that it has a loose connection. I had the opposite problem…whenever I had my headlights on, hitting a bump would cause the interior lights to dim to the lowest setting. I had to physically hold the switch in place to keep the lights on.