Monthly Archives: April 2016
To convince me to pack up and move. All I really need is a cleaning and packing crew, a painting crew, and a yard crew to get this house in shape to sell and I’d be putting it on the market tomorrow.
I’ve had enough of the winters. I never minded them until I had the heart attack. Now I straight up hate winter weather.
The cold makes me ache to my bones now.
It wouldn’t take much to get me to leave, just enough money to live on and a home on or near a beach. A warm beach.
The Curmudgeon takes issue with my attitude but I’ve put up with this house for almost 43 years with much of the promised work never done. I am sick of this house and the new direction (noisy renters) this once peaceful neighborhood is going.
The Curmudgeon seldom leaves the house as it is so him sitting in a home in AC, on a beach, wouldn’t matter to him as long as he had his TV.
Someone told me we couldn’t move because he’d miss his friends. Maybe that was true once upon a time. However, his friends never come to see him any more so why would it matter to him where we live now?
I have one friend I’d love to drag along, but most of the others won’t miss me, and if they did, they’d come visit. After all I’d be near a beach and who wouldn’t want to take advantage of that?
Some days I wish things were as simple as we always thought they’d be when we hit this age.
Me puttering around my garden, enjoying the peaceful zen of it.
Him enjoying retirement doing the things he loved like hunting, fishing, and target shooting.
Nope, it’s never cut and dried.
The Curmudgeon seldom leaves the house and he never goes hunting or fishing these days even though I buy him a license each year, in hopes he might try. He keeps up his gun club membership but I don’t think he’s been there in years.
My garden is seldom peaceful with the idiot neighbor who lives across the street and enjoys deafening the world that surrounds him as well as himself and his kids with his car stereo blasting at “beyond ear-splitting” volume. All because we nicely asked him, then not so nicely asked him, then threw ear buds at him, and finally called the police on him, to turn it down to tolerable levels.
Now if he sees me outside he cranks up his stereo or has the younger members of his household do it for him. Such a nice guy. I wonder if he enjoys being known as “that asshole.” I do wish the transient renter would move on.
Or I’d hit the lottery so I could move on….
Ever unpredictable is the life of a person with secondary MS.
Since his five hospitalizations from October to February, The Curmudgeon’s health has not bounced back to where he was in September, which wasn’t the greatest, but was better than he is now.
Since October I’ve slept on the couch because he used to take care of the dogs in the mornings and can’t do it now. Heck, now I feel like he’s having a great day when he can take care of himself and I’m not hurting my back picking him up off the floor.
Since October I haven’t had near enough sleep. However, I find that I seldom can fall asleep before four a.m. no matter how little sleep I had the night/day before.
The dogs don’t care, they tend to wake me sometimes before six a.m. and once in a while they let me sleep until ten thirty a.m.
I miss my bed. I miss having a true good sleep. And most of all, I miss my sanity, for wherever a lack of sleep is, sanity goes out the window.
An improved day for The Curmudgeon. Thank goodness. He was able to come downstairs for the day.
I don’t think I could have taken two bad days in a row. One day is exhausting enough. I am constantly running up and down the stairs.
At least the pups know when he’s having a bad day. They tend to pay him extra attention when he does come down and seem to take it easy on me.
I am in serious need of a beach vacation.
We haven’t had a real bad day around here for a little while. I guess we were due for one.
Woke to the doorbell–delivery of The Curmudgeon’s Rebif. Just settled back down, eyes closed, drifting off, the phone rings.
The Curmudgeon called me from his cell phone. That is never a good sign about how the day will go.
He was down and needed help to get up.
For the next hour I got him up, helped him change his pissed on clothes, brought him food and drink. And what did I get for it? Ordered about.
I will take a lot, but I will NOT take being ordered about. I blew a gasket.
(I grew up being ordered about by my older sister until I grew taller than her and kicked her ass. Then I had to stand between her and the baby sister to keep her from victimizing her.)
After that, I got a phone call from my doctor’s office telling me I probably will need surgery on the elbow.
Then the vet called with the results of Gavin’s urinalysis…not great news but not any more than I half expected.
Keeping in mind an upcoming vet bill and a surgery, I checked our checking account and found us to be overdrawn for the second time in a month’s time thanks to The Curmudgeon. We hadn’t been overdrawn for 15 years at least, now it’s happened twice. SMDH.
Never let The Curmudgeon go shopping without supervision.
I need a do over for yesterday. Hell, I need a do over for the month.
I updated the previous post for anyone curious as to what happened when The Curmudgeon called the insurance company.
What? Call the EMS number as they requested we do if we had any questions? No way, we go right to the insurance company, they do the work.
Long story short….The EMS company got spanked.
And…the taxes are done.
Warm weather approaches … Again… But, will it stay?
So yesterday we got another bill that our insurance company should have paid.
Would’ve paid. Ah hah! Did pay!
Had the idiots at the EMS submitted the bill to them. They did and were getting sneaky with us, trying to get a double payment.
I gave them all the information they needed to do so when they drove off with The Curmudgeon.
Now we have to spend the day on the phone with the insurance company and EMS to get this debacle straightened out. He called the insurance company and they called the EMS company and read them the riot act.
I imagine we’ll be getting a whole stack of bills from them… I know we’ll be calling the insurance company a lot.
So yesterday I woke to find it snowing hard enough that I couldn’t see clear across the cemetery.
First thing I do each day is take the dogs out.
I start with Lucy, who on this day, stood at the door looking out at that nasty white stuff coming down and gave me a real bad stink eye.
“I can hold it.”
“No, you can’t. Out.” I pushed her out to go do her business.
If ever a dog could rush a pee, Lucy can.
Next Gavin’s out. He bounded to the door. He bounded out the door, peed four times in four places, and bounded back in.
“Coming right up.”
I had an appointment to get my hair cut. As I was pulling out of the driveway, I spotted a beer bottle in front of The Curmudgeon’s truck.
Running a bit later than I like, I stopped in front of the house and honked the horn (another thing I hate to do.) The Curmudgeon actually responded by coming to the door, something I didn’t expect but hoped for.
I told him about the bottle hoping he’d get it picked up before some idiot came along and thought it funny to smash it in the driveway.
When I came home the bottle was gone and he was winding up an extension cord. He’d managed to even charge his truck battery while I was gone. Wow, he didn’t spend the entire time in front of the TV.
Well, I had my Neurologist appointment yesterday. They actually called me and had me come in earlier to see a different doctor. The Neurologist (the one The Curmudgeon sees) who was to see me, had a family emergency.
Quite all right. I liked the substitute, she was a real hoot.
I spent an hour getting pinged, measured, marked, stabbed with wires, and zapped.
As a result we’ve found that I don’t have carpal tunnel, I have ulnar nerve impingement. I never get off easy.