You betcha! She got sympathy, but not lots & lots of sympathy. Although, I am proud of her for admitting it was her own damn fault. She’s feeling somewhat better today. She rested all day Saturday; I made her do the dishes yesterday, and she managed.
I did tell her to make sure she takes the X-Ray report with her to the chiropractor later this week; I want the chiro to see it before she gets adjusted.
My birthday’s on Labour Day occasionally. It’s the only day of the year, I think, that can be on Labour Day or Grandparents’ Day. Though I’ve never celebrated Grandparents’ Day.
I am in the mood for a fight tonight, so hey downstairs neighbour coming in, passive-agressively standing in the shared porch shouting “wish you would learn to close a door behind you”, I will shout back “wish you would learn that smoking kills you” and then deliberately jump on the floor to match your doorslam. Stinking bitch that you are, that’s why we have to leave the porch open to air your fag smoke out a bit and stop it coming up our stairwell.
Although I’ve rather amusingly just remembered it wasn’t even me who was last through the door, it was the postman. Oh well 
ETA - I just went down and she’s left it open behind her too? What was the point of her addressing thin air with that complaint then? Psycho.
I bought the other Shoe a bunch of candy that he specially wanted, for his birthday, about two months before he died. Not having much of a sweet tooth, he hadn’t eaten much of the candy. Just some of it. My office is doing some sort of Halloween thingy today – kids coming by to pseudo-trick-or-treat from cubicle to cubicle – and I’d halfheartedly thought about bringing his candy in so I can give it away. I forgot, and now I’m really really really REALLY regretting it. Partially that’s because I’m solidly in the “random little things remind me of him” phase plus I’m having to get rid of 90% of his stuff (moving/downsizing and, well, he was kind of a pack rat) and now I have two bags of candy in the kitchen that make me want to cry or sometimes actually cry every damn time I see them.
Now I’m sitting here at work trying not to sob at my desk since the kids are going to show up soon (“Mommy? Why is that lady crying?” is NOT what I need to overhear right now) and I’m just so tired of feeling this crappy. Tired of having to get rid of his stuff, and having to box up my stuff, and sorting through our stuff to figure out what I absolutely can’t leave behind or jettison. Tired of feeling like I’m being pushed out of my own home although I’ll admit, I’m starting to look forward to something of a fresh start.
I’ll leave the porch light on Oct 31st and maybe get around to buying a pumpkin and putting it outside, but because my street is very close to a more upscale neighborhood, it seems most kids bypass our block on the assumption that richer people = better candy. So I historically have gotten few trick-or-treaters this past year.
TL/DR: Whatever kids show up to trick-or-treat at my door this year are going to hit the CANDY JACKPOT! Cherry Jolly Ranchers and a neat honey-filled honey-flavored candy by the fistful!
Well, don’t I feel like a dumbfuck. Mis-read the email: office decorating is today, but the kids are coming this Friday. So I’ll be able to find good, loving new homes for Shoe’s candy.
Ah, well. I’m still tired of packing, tired of looking for a cheap-but-decent place to live, tired of how overbearing my parents have gotten, tired of being blindsided by random things that remind me of him, tired of being sad, tired of crying, tired, tired, tired.
{{purplehorseshoe}}
My brain isn’t up to the mental gymnastics to figure out how often my birthday is on the fourth Thursday of November. 
Seconded.
Up to four chickens are allowed within city limits…that’s hens you idiot. Not a rooster!
So, what’s the gender-neutral term then, if not “chickens?”
In my neck of the woods, the gender of the 4 allowed chickens is specified. Partially because of noise issues, partially (I’ve heard) to help ward off illegal cockfighting.
Thanks for the virtual hugs, everyone. I’m feeling a tiny bit better now.
A month and a half after his death, a half-empty house with most of his stuff gone, and I STILL found another of his hidden booze stashes yesterday! :eek: For a cripple in a wheelchair, he was one resourceful drunk.
Easy. Four times every twenty-eight years. Every time it falls on a Thursday, in fact.
Same thing happens with me and my wedding anniversary.
I guess one cannot have wide open spaces to enjoy without there being some portion of nature showing up in the back yard. 
You live in a flood plain???
(((purplehorseshoe))) Its OK to grieve as long as you need to. Its OK to grieve how you want. Its OK to be totally mad/exasperated/frustrated at him over stuff. All of your feelings are valid and totally OK.
I’ve never lost a life partner, but I have lost dear friends. I don’t know your pain, but I know it must be so intense and I’m so sorry for you. Sometimes, life just isn’t fair.
I used to work in a flood plane. Well, the parking lot was in the flood plane, the warehouse was 3 feet away. From what I understood, that meant that there might be a flood every hundred years or so and that if it happened earlier or more often, it would be an act of god. The lines changed over the years due to development and runoff changes. When I started working there, the flood plane lines were only at the start of the parking lot. When I left, they were at the loading dock. This is why many people don’t know that they live in a flood plane.
We didn’t get notified, I just noticed the FEMA inspection tags and asked about it.
One of the things I miss about living in the wide open spaces of Arizona is nature showing up. I used to feel like a serious badass when I heard the Javalina coming down the hill and would run outside and be able to light up 2 or 3 of them with my paintball gun before they got out of range. Yeah, I know…simple pleasures for simple minds.
Houston is good, I’m happy here. Steve has stopped terrorizing our dog, Lucky hasn’t gotten stuck in the trash can since Bill put up the mommycam.
Just about all of Sacramento is a flood plain. Our neighborhood had a levy issue and they put a moratorium on all new housing until the levies were dealt with. We’re at the confluence of two rivers. After the levy repair, we’re now considered a 200 yrs flood plain, instead of 100 yr. We’re required to have flood insurance and like people who live in earthquake or tornado areas, have an evacuation plan.
JFTR, it’s levee, and levees.
“Levy” refers to the act of assessing fees and/or taxes.
Ya know…it didn’t look right, but I was too lazy to look it up. :o
Holy shit, chemotherapy is no joke. My friend had her first session today. All seemed fine, she even had some dinner. Then, 8 hours post-infusion, violent vomiting, slurred speech, and a call to 911. I got her voice mail an hour after she left it because I was at work, I could hear the ambulance siren in the background. I was worried she was having a stroke. I booked out of work to get a car, and I had to find her at the hospital, after I found out which hospital they took her to. After the violent vomiting, then she had blowout the other end, which I had the pleasure to be present for. Aghrghrollgahaa, that was awful. About an hour after that, and a liter of fluid, I left to clean up her apartment and came back, she was much better and getting feisty and another hour later I was able to take her home.
Hoping next time (in three weeks) they’ll give her some extra antiemetics to take home? I dunno. We were a little too optimistic on how she would react, though she did tell everyone that whatever the bad end of possible side effects there were, she would have them. She was totally right. Ack. Poor thing. Cancer is just not fair.
Been there, done that. She needs to ask, generally they are pretty good about stuff like that [is it possible to abuse antiemetics? Ask for suppositories, no joke - it sucks to have to retake a pill you just horked up because you are down to your last one.]
And, as a tiny word of advice - I found ice cold small pieces of fruit the best thing to eat, and ginger ale or sprite the best thing other than ice water to drink. I used to freeze grapes and use them as ice cubes for those little 2 oz paper cups of ginger ale. I would make a decent sized bowl of cut up canteloup, watermelon, grapes, pitted cherries and keep it in the fridge and on days when it was tough getting off the sofa I would keep a cooler of ice, cans of ginger ale and water, and tupperware bowls of cut up fruit. To get calories in I would eat ice cream - I found meat too heavy to be able to eat much of, though sliced deli turkey tended to be bland enough to not set me off. And keep a large stock pot by the sofa to hurl into in case it sneeks up on one.
She’s seeing her doctor again today for a growth factor injection, and will discuss what happened and a game plan for the next treatment. Since it was an issue with both ends, it’s hard to say whether a suppository will do much better. I’m hoping it will be a matter of timing, and getting an extra antiemetic into her a few hours after the appointment and before the wave of nausea hits. She called her doctor first, and I’m sure if her speech sounded to him like it did to me, that’s why he told her to call 911. It was really scary, she sounded drunk. By the time I got her home, 5 hours after the fright, 3 hours after the mortifying other end blowout, she was a little hungry and we did indeed stop at the store to get ice cream on the way (and - a pack of Depends, just in case).
I like the cold fruit and ginger ale, I might try to see her Sundays since her treatment looks like Monday mornings, and I can help get her set up for the following couple of days. Her emergency first contact is her sister, but her sis is in New York. Turns out, I’m now her second contact since I’m in Chicago with her. So her sis can do family calls and stuff if my friend is really bad off and unconscious or something, but if she needs help it’s me. Both hospitals (her treatment hosp + the one 911 takes her to) and her sister now have my contact info. It just ended up scarier than either of us anticipated!
para los otros: JFTR = just for the record. Not Joint Federal Travel Regulations. (My 1st Google result.) I guess I’m still a newbie after all this time, but I’ve never run across that one until now.