Fowl? The new Chickens issue came with today's mail. I so dislike having my magazines folded. The seam never fades and it damages the photographs. My day began on a high note. It flatlined in the lab. (It spiked when I collected mail from two boxes.) Their phones and computers were on the fritz. I had to go upstairs after a long wait, to ask a receptionist there to tell my doctor's nurse to re-send the order for my lab work. The receptionist I like the most had a problem with her phone too, so I had to wait an uncomfortably long time before she got the nurse on the phone; then I had to wait for the nurse to gain access to my file. I had to talk to the nurse. The receptionist couldn't or wouldn't. Then it was back down to the lab where the same receptionist looked at me as if she'd never seen me before and said, "Please wait," while she sat with a phone to her ear. She repeated the same thing to the next three or four people who came after me.
Maybe I'm spoiled. We never have to wait at ________ ________. Not for very long anyway. Not even for doctor appointments. I don't mind a little waiting. It gives me time to relax first. Besides, life happens; especially in a doctor's office, but what irritated me today was seeing how a simple glitch in a computerized system could bring a well oiled machine to a screeching halt. Watching a group of receptionists and lab techs huddled before monitors, clucking like a henhouse full of chickens that spied a hawk's shadow, and fooled themselves into believing the hawk was being directed by a fox in the woods, almost convinced me to turn around and return another day. But, as luck would have it, I have a doctor's appointment in the morning. So I stayed. I wish I hadn't. A new tech drew my blood. I had to sit and wait some more while all the people who came after me got their labs done and were gone in minutes. After she made an appearance, she wanted to decide which arm to draw from. When she inserted the needle it hurt really really bad. Twenty-four miles later it still hurt, and it hurt worse every time I moved my elbow.
Backtracking . . . I wrote two letters last night. A single sheet of stationery counts as a letter. Right? No? Okay. One letter and a note were written last night. You see the little jar of hearts and notes, yes? Yes, I said, "just a note . . ." Aha! See? I went to sleep in a great mood, woke in a great mood, and intended to have the day follow suit.
We know what happens to the best laid plans of mice and letter writers. Like having to take this photo in the post office parking lot under a blazing sun because I wasn't sure I'd done it last night.
Or having JC change a blown bulb, and convincing him to change both just in case, only to have one of them blow the next night. I dislike the new spiral bulbs! Okay, it was my idea that he leave the globe off since it needed a wash it; I forgot that I'm too short to do it without the heaviest, tallest ladder in the garage. The one I cannot bring upstairs on my own. Without the globe the light leaches the strongest colors. No matter. I offered nine letters to help in feeding the insatiable appetite of the mail gods this afternoon. Yet forgot to pick up my prescription five minutes away.
And in return . . . there was this. I got a V! Forty-six to go. Thank you, Angela. What I wouldn't give to ride the trails too. This card makes up for having bled through the gauze after the lab, the pain that's still bugging me when I move my arm, and the ugly hematoma that might take the rest of the week to fade. Well, it helps. A lot. The more I let go of the anger . . . I could use the energy for something better. Perhaps I will. But not before I tell you how disappointed I am in Tom Selleck, and how happy I am about the fate of Confederate flag. Life is about ups and downs in a never-ending circle of life. I keep listening to that song. On repeat x two. Then the happy song. Beause I'm happy.
I spend hours on end reading my daily dose of posts. I can spend huge blocks of time reading blogs I follow too, but never in the morning. Mornings are for work. Work first. Play later. Habits are hard to break. I have a habit of saving links to share. I also have a habit of forgetting to share them. Then I remember, but the moment has passed on some that were appropriate when I thought of sharing them with you. Here's a good one. I read post after post after post until my eyes needed lubrication. And I laughed hard and long and loud. Check the link and laugh for yourself. Don't you just get a kick out of everyday life viewed through different eyes? Yes? Well, click, and laugh on. Laugh long. Anonymous Postcards
See you in the mail!