A friend of my husband died a couple years ago and her funeral service was similar to Jeremy’s. She was a young woman who had MS (If I remember correctly) and everyone knew her time was coming up short so it wasn’t a shock. But it was still very sad. I was personally offended - but kept it to myself until I commented to my husband later in private - that the service started with 30 minutes of bloviating by a Catholic priest. His message was “See? Life is short and this is why you all should join the Church”. He barely spared a sentence for the deceased.
If I lived in a comic/fantasy world where I could stop time, I would have done that so that her family didn’t get upset by my actions, and then slap the bejeezus out of that self-righteous prick.
I’m so irate. I’m still sitting on my ass, unable to return to work. My employer requested a letter from my transplant team outlining what limitations I have in returning to work. They also requested info on future appointments. Twelve days ago- TWELVE- the surgeon and I discussed what I felt I could do. We agreed the best plan is continue with 20% office / 80% home, working up to mandated 50/50 over the next three months. We also agreed to no client face to face contact for six months.
Last Wednesday I was assured the letter was drafted and ready to go. Friday I was told the surgeon needed to sign off. Monday, at my appointment to finally get the staples out, I was told it’s still being worked on.
Today I called the coordinator, was told her associate had it ready to be sent. Associate then emails me asking when I’m planning on returning to work. Frustrated, I sharply replied that I cannot until our LAM office reviews and approves it, which is why I am irritated with this continuing delay.
What are you looking for us to say?
Really? The agreed language was in every damn email I have sent over the past twelve days.
She literally copy/pasted one of my emails, grammatical errors and all, leaving off the client contact request and future appointments.
At this point, I have no return to work date. Judging by some of the work emails I’ve read, one of my primary duties is being completely fucked up by coverage workers. Who knows what has happened with my caseload.
I’ve read over 20 books in the past 19 days. Rewatched every Marvel and Harry Potter movie. I’m going bonkers.
Our dishes are coming out of the dishwasher smelling like the ass end of a dead skunk again.
This delightful occurrence arrives out of the blue for no apparent reason, disappears the same way, and then reappears months or years later.
Yay.
If you google this, there is no definitive reason or solution to be found. And the search gets a crapload of people with the same complaint. Plumbers just look at us like we have two heads and are speaking in a foreign language. And blink a few times.
Weird. The only thing I can imagine it could possibly be is residual foodstuffs somehow rotting in the remaining water in or around the pump. There might be stuff that’s trapped in there. My current dishwasher had a noise problem due to some sort of plastic or otherwise water-resistant material stuck in the pump. I noticed that after a while the noise intermittently stopped and started, and gradually occurred less and less frequently until it went away completely. Presumably the stuff eventually got cleared out.
More problems with Amazon. The credit card issue got resolved, still not sure what happened. I activated the replacement card and updated the expiry date, and the charge automatically went through about an hour later. But the old card absolutely was good until the end of July.
But the new problem is that for the first time, the delivery (arriving tomorrow) is via Amazon’s own delivery service. This sucks, because they always used to use expedited postal delivery, which is great for me because I don’t have to be home or awake – the parcel gets left in the parcel compartment of the community mailbox (newer homes have not had door-to-door delivery for many years except for parcels that require a signature). Now the fuckers are bringing it directly to the door, and if I don’t run to the door in ten seconds flat I won’t get the package.
I’ve never seen that. May be just a US thing. Even direct door delivery by courier services is better, because if there’s no answer at the door, they leave the package at a designated local agency by about 5:00 PM where you can pick it up. Amazon delivery doesn’t have that. They just say they’ll try to deliver three times on consecutive days, and then send it back and issue a refund.
I missed a courier delivery of a new laptop a few weeks ago that I was really looking forward to (from Dell, not Amazon). It was no big deal as I was able to pick it up a few hours later from one of the courier’s designated agents just a very short drive away. Amazon Logistics delivery for me is the worst of all possible worlds.
I’m doing a test. A glass from out of the dishwasher, and bottled water from the store poured into the glass. If it doesn’t stink after sitting in there for a few minutes, then it’s the water. If it does, then it’s the glass. It always takes a few minutes of sitting for the water to take on that … aroma.
It’s a (fortunately) rare occurrence that a portal to the plane of the Great Old Ones can spontaneously spawn inside of dishwashers. It’s a combination of the pattern of the water jets and the rattling of the dishes along with several other more esoteric components.
Fortunately the Elder Gods yet slumber so none can be bothered to enlarge the breach to actually encroach into our reality. But the smell. Well, you know.
It will eventually seal itself of it’s own accord sooner or later. It’s advisable to avoid seafood dishes in the interim just to be safe.
I can’t sleep for weeping. Nose sealed shut, eyes puffed to uselessness. Thank christ I work from home where I can’t be seen.
It’s my Other Shoe’s birthday. Or should be. He’s been dead just shy of six years now. How the fuck can this still hurt so badly?
Like, stab in the ribs hurt. Actual physical pain. (Emotional pain notwithstanding, that’s a different story. That shit’s worse.) Jesus there aren’t words for how much I miss him. Every single fucking day. Still. After all this fucking time. Every. Fucking. Day.
All my sympathy, purplehorseshoe. One thing you can take comfort from is that this is a measure how much you loved him. It would be sad to think that one day you would not be missing him any more.
I remember so well the time when he was sick, and how shocking it was when he died. I’m sure there are lots of us dopers thinking of you today.
Is the “glass” plastic, or glass? I know that sounds odd - but a lot of people will refer to a plastic drinking vessel as a “glass” (heck, I grew up calling it that myself).
I would imagine a plastic vessel would be more prone to residual stankiness than a glass one.
What happens if you wash that same vessel by hand and repeat the experiment? That would narrow down whether it’s your whole water supply, or something specific to the dishwasher.
Even if you rinse things before you put them in (and really, you shouldn’t: just scrape off all solids with a plastic spatula) it’s conceivable that you might have missed something and that got stuck in the machine’s innards. Does it have a grinder, or just a filter? Can you check the appropriate part to see if it’s got anything wrong? Have you ever tried rerunning the washer with the same stuff in it, to see if the smell persists?
And speaking of the “ass end of a skunk”: A week or so ago, a skunk evidently met its demise along a road we travel multiple times a day. A spraying would, I imagine, have begun to dissipate by now especially since we’ve had a fair bit of rain. A deceased skunk might well be sitting there, fermenting (appropriate video). Ah, the lazy, hazy, crazy days of summer. I’m looking forward to being able to drive that bit of road without the windows up and recirculation turned on, not that this does much. That stuff permeates EVERYTHING.
Sometimes I freaking hate living in a large city.
I had a work appointment this morning, my plan was to take a yoga class after. The classes are held all day at 2 hour intervals.
We finish up our project at a little after 12. So the next class is at 2.
No problem, you might think. I’ll just find a place to grab a snack and hang out for a little while in an air-conditioned restaurant or coffee shop. Sounds simple, right.
I walk into 4 coffee shops. I’m sure any of them would’ve be happy to sell me food but none of them have an empty table. They are all completely filled with annoying people that are using the restaurant as their office, with books and computers and papers piled on their tables. None of them seem to be eating. None of them seem to be leaving soon.
I stick my head in McD’s. No empty tables. This is usually where I give up and grab something and find a park bench. I’m getting tired of this. But it’s really hot and humid and sticky.
So I go into place 6, a chain shop that sells pastries and premade sandwiches and salads. And they appear to have a few empty tables.
Success! I grab a half sandwich, pay for it and head to the seating area.
The AC is broken. There is no AC. It’s hot as fuck. Goddammit. I’m holding a tray with food on it, no turning back. I take a table and eat the sandwich but I’m pissed.
Fuck this city. All I want is 20 minutes of air-conditioning. I’m willing to buy something to find it. It shouldn’t be this fucking difficult.
Teeniest of minirants: The latest update for the Google app on my phone has forced a dark background with white type on me when it’s in battery saver mode. Do. Not. Like. I know, First World problem, but there’s no way to disable it. I’ll take a few minutes less battery life for my white background back.
