I live in an apartment complex about 1.5 miles from the local grocery store. Two weeks ago I let them know that there were 12 of their carts in our garage level. I didn’t hear back until one week ago when it was up to 15 carts. The guy said that he didn’t want to upset our complex management by coming over to get them. This morning there were 18 carts down there and 1 out on the street by the park adjacent to our complex.
They’re losing 3 carts a week and they don’t want to upset my complex management by coming to get them? :dubious:
I emailed their corporate offices and then went to get some milk and asked to speak to the manager on duty. Look buddy, you have NINETEEN of your carts sitting at an apartment complex 1.5 miles from your store and it is only going to get worse until you actually fucking do something about it.
31 years old, and I’m beginning to *strongly suspect that I’m already starting perimenopause. This has been a brutal summer, but now that the weather is lovely and I still can’t take a shower cold enough to make myself stop sweating, I’m getting a little :dubious: at my own body and its stew of hormones. A couple nights ago I woke up to find my pillow was absolutely soaked through and freezing cold. In the morning, I asked Mr. Horseshoe if he’d perhaps spilled water during the night. He informed me that I’d simply drowned in sweat and pointedly suggested I wash the sheets, and my hair.
Goddamnfuckityfuck. There. I said it.
Side whine: waaaah! It’s finally gorgeous fucking weather and I’m stuck at work. I need to look up how much time off I have left - I may seriously need to [del]play hooky[/del] take a half day. Texas gets about twelve hours of pretty autumn weather between hotter’n’shit and cold/gray.
Missed the edit window, but wanted to ETA that I looked up the name of the SSRI I started taking about a month and a half ago and studies indicate that it reduces hot flashes in postmenopausal women.
purplehorseshoe, IANAD etc etc and I can’t remember what your insurance situation is, but there’s lots of thing besides perimenopause that could give you a) hormone stew type feelings and 2] hot flashes/night sweats. Hyperthyroid is the first thing that occurs to me (and it’s not too tough or expensive to treat) but there’s at least a few more and IAN even AD. Perimenopause at 31 isn’t unheard-of but it is pretty early. Maybe get checked?
ETA: Though if you just got a new SSRI your docs probably have your thyroid all mapped out from here to Timbuktu, of course. Still.
Not that I know of, no. I had a general panel blood work done recently, but I don’t know if thyroid stuff (IANAD either!) was part of that. Thanks - I have a call into the dr,'s office and will be sure to bring that up. I know thyroid dysfunction gets blamed for everything except the dirty laundry but had never heard of a connection to hot flashes.
Mostly, though, I’m posting to say a) I’m home, not at work and b) took my own damn advice for once. Mental Health Half-Day.
(Of course, I needed to check my bank acct. when I got home and nearly gave myself a full-blown panic attack but hey, that’s what the fucking Citalopram is for in the first place, right?)
ETA: I do have insurance, now, after being uninsured and out of work for years. Hence, getting to see a dr. and having access to Rx meds again.
Two months post-op and one of my wisdom tooth extraction sites is infected. This was supposed to be over by now. Instead, I’m starting a Z-pack. Which for some reason it took the pharmacy a fucking hour to fill, despite the fact that this particular antibiotic comes pre-packaged. Rrrgghhh.
#1. One of the “interesting” ironies about Texas weather is that the long, sunshine-filled days, when daylight stretches out and twilight comes at 9 p.m., are also hotter than Satan’s taint. Now that the weather is finally lovely, it’s getting dark way too fucking early. Not even 8 o’clock and it’s already dark as shit.
And by “lovely” I mean “slightly less hot than Satan’s taint” since I was just doing some long-overdue weeding for maybe twenty minutes and I’m sweating like I took one of those heated yoga classes. Or maybe it’s a hot flash. Who fucking knows.
#2. The above financially-induced near-panic attack is brought to you by my own inability to do math. I may or may not have written checks which, if processed before Friday morning, may or may not clear. Poverty: you may suck my balls, if I had any. (Suck my … ovaries? Doesn’t have that ring to it, does it?)
Oh, can I ever join you in this rant! We’re finally having sub-100 degree days - even a few days with highs in the 70s and lows in the upper 50s, and just perfect, perfect, perfect, and I’m dripping sweat from my hair while sitting and doing nothing. I think that the “toughing it out” method of dealing with perimenopause is not working… and my sheets also need to be washed.
Also, thanks to a spate of small but ongoing unexpected expenses, plus a huge jump in our insurance cost, plus niggling other little things (unpaid days off work thanks to a horrible virus, that kind of stuff,) we just cannot get quite abreast of the bills. We’re not living large, we don’t splurge, we work and scrimp and do our damnedest and we just can’t quite get out of the hole. I’m so tired of scraping up change to buy milk or give the kids lunch money on the day before payday! And now, eldest daughter needs to make a last-minute trip home (yay!) and I don’t know whether she can afford it without my help, nor whether I can offer much help (boo!) I haven’t seen her since last New Year, and I miss her so much! (Currently looking through my coin “collection” - really just a random casual gathering of stuff through the years, just because - trying to decide whether any of it is worth trying to sell…)
So yeah, poverty and my ovaries can suck my balls!
My grandma is in the hospital- again- with congestive heart failure. She’s 89 and very frail, and she’s scared she won’t get to go home again. I was afraid we were gonna lose her a few years ago when my dad passed away, she hasn’t really been the same since.
On top of that, a good friend of mine found out she was pregnant about a month ago. Today she went for an ultrasound and the baby has no detectable heartbeat. She was going to see another doctor this afternoon but there’s been no updates and we’re fearing the worst.
Well, I already know you don’t like tattoos. How am I to know what else you do and don’t approve of?
Yeah, that was my point–not that *you *should talk to her, but HusbandParanoia should.
It’s cancer. Can I have your stuff?
I’m pretty sure we get “lick my clit.”
And this is why people generally wait to report pregnancies until the end of the first trimester. The number of pregnancies that aren’t viable past that stage is really surprising (and sad).
My cat was jumping yesterday all day, then yesterday evening she stopped being able to jump. She’s limping around the house and very subdued today - the vet appointment is for 3:30. I don’t know what’s wrong with her - it almost looks like she had a small stroke. She’s 12 years old - that’s not ancient for a cat, but she’s not a spring chicken, either. Poor kitty.
I knew when I married him that this just wasn’t going to happen. He’s quite a wimp when it comes to his parents. (And is a wonderful husband in most other ways.)
Rant for the day: I am so sick of one of our departments stupidly not being helpful.
So, there was a test I needed someone to run. Would take about ten minutes. I ask her and she has to ask her manager. :rolleyes:
Okay, fine. Manager sends me a nasty email saying that her people don’t have time for this (when, in fact, I have been directed to ask her people to do such things) and to do it myself. Normally at this stage I would bring it to her manager (my grandboss) and get him to deal with her. Sadly, he is away.
One the steam stopped pouring out of my ears (since it took longer than 10 minutes to compose the email, I suspect). I set about doing it myself. It takes me three hours (since, you know, I don’t know anything about it) and I end up using 30 minutes of the same person’s time (that I couldn’t use to test it but could use to help me) to understand it and get it set up.
OK universe, what have I done to piss you off? Please stop punishing me through the animals that I love.
In May I had to say goodbye to my 12 yo Lab Willow, due to a ruptured disk and inoperable deterioration in her spine.
A month ago, my GSD bloated and had to have major surgery to untwist his innards. (He, thank gods, is fine, though my bank balance took a beating)
This morning, one of my cats wasn’t looking right, and a vet visit found an abdominal mass and a belly full of fluid. Belly tap produced bright fresh blood. Off to ER vet for an ultrasound, which showed multiple masses on multiple organs.
Whiskers was 12-ish, had been a barn cat before he came to live with me, and decided that he was a barn cat only when it was warm and sunny, otherwise he belonged on the bed TYVM.
Sleep well, Whiskers. May you have the best of all sunny spots to snooze in, wherever you are.
It’s not a good month for kitties. My 11 year old had a bad tooth and while removing it the vet found a tumor which went to the lab and came back squamous cell carcinoma which in cats is a Very Bad Thing. He took out a lot of the tumor but it’s back and kitty is having trouble eating. We have him on pain meds but I don’t think this can go forever, although he is eating again and seems fine otherwise. I just hope I’m not making him suffer for my own selfishness and that I’ll know when the time has come. The bright side is that being newish in town I had to find a new vet, and seem to have hit a home run with these folks. Wonderful, compassionate, on time with appointments and the vet didn’t charge me for my last visit. Well, here’s hoping that **Cat Whisperer **gets some better news at her appointment today. And kind thoughts for Whiskers who no doubt had a great life.
Oh, forgot I had a mini-rant. I am supposed to be POST menopause! Meaning everything is PAUSED! Guess what showed up over the weekend, after more than a years absence?
I’ve got my fingers crossed for, “Kitty fell off something and hurt her leg.” She’s really not herself today, but a sore leg will do that to anyone.
Sorry to hear about everyone else’s bad cat luck.
I’m also sorry to hear about your return visitor, curlcoat - I thought everything was supposed to be OVER after it’s OVER. No returns! No coming back again!
This has been a brutal summer, but now that the weather is lovely and I still can’t take a shower cold enough to make myself stop sweating, I’m getting a little :dubious: at my own body and its stew of hormones. A couple nights ago I woke up to find my pillow was absolutely soaked through and freezing cold. In the morning, I asked Mr. Horseshoe if he’d perhaps spilled water during the night. He informed me that I’d simply drowned in sweat and pointedly suggested I wash the sheets, and my hair.
but hey, that’s what the fucking Citalopram is for in the first place, right?)