This Entry Starts So Well, Then Turns SO Bad The Hubster and I had a rather nice weekend! I had won a free night stay at the Apache Gold Casino Resort over at the San Carlos reservation, just outside of Globe. WE drove over and spent the day exploring downtown Globe . . . . . . as well as Besh-Ba-Gowah ruins, which was pretty neat. It�s still too warm to have fall colors yet, but the cactus all looked very nice. The resort also gave us free dinner, free breakfast, and a couple of free drinks, and we only dropped $20 in the slots. I won it back and then proceeded to lose it again. Oh well. Otherwise, I�ve been spending a rather stupid amount of time trying to get all the ducks in a row for the surgery, and the whole process is leading me to consider getting a new GP. Whatever happened to customer service, I don�t know, but what I do know is that I don�t treat the people I talk to on the phones at work like that. I can very close to breaking one of my knitting needles in my fist on Friday, when I was told by a very sour woman that because I didn�t call ahead for a chest x-ray, they wouldn�t be able to see me today. And this was after I had spent a half hour sitting in the waiting room. I�ve never had to make a chest x-ray appointment. Gah! I also went to the Obi-Wan Onocologist�s office and had a long talk with the nurse practitioner, J, about all the things that could potentially go wrong with my surgery: fistula, colostomy, stroke, thrombosis, psoriasis, Microsoft fatal error, plague, dutch elm disease, heart attack, dengue fever, staph infection, mange, ingrown toenails, the heebie-jeebies, and death. Isn�t that nice? So that�s pretty much my whole life right now . . . that and getting in things to eat while I�m recuperating, and steam-cleaning the whole house before surgery so that I won�t fret over the state of the house while I lie in the recliner for several weeks. Oh, like that�s going to happen. *grin* The only thing I really plan to do is steam-clean the recliner. It�s been a sweaty summer and the thing�s smelling a little . . . well . . . gamey. Ewwww! I tell you what, though, the smell of a sweaty recliner pales in comparison to the image of a necrophiliac mouse:
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