twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
The ax has fallen, and I am now unemployed again. The reason that the company gave was because of me leaving early - so the long and the short it was because my crazy is not under control.

!

Mar. 27th, 2010 12:00 am
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
I am not at work. Again. I couldn't breathe. I feel better now, but I feel so stupid, like I could have prevented it or managed my attack better. Or something! I was feeling better when I was in the break room, but when I even thought about going back to work it felt like one of the cats where jumping up and down on my chest.
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
Many of my classes have attendance requirements. Where if you're not there after 2 or 3 days in the entire semester you start dropping letter grades. They also want you to stay in bed if you have the plague, especially if you have any sort of flu.

So things work out to where if you're sick for more than a week, you're screwed. And since it's my understanding it takes more than a week to get over the flu, I foresee many, many students getting fucked over this winter.
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
I pressed my hand against my forehead, and my reaction was "WTF?!" I had forgotten that I smeared Badger Headache Soother Balm all over my forehead to take the edge off while I was waiting for the naproxen to kick in.

It's surprisingly effective for a mixture of olive oil, wax, and essential oils. I wouldn't use it on it's own for headaches, but it works as a good warm-up for pain killers and for top offs until I can take another dose.

I just have to remember I have it on.
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
The gardener that my grandmother hired to redo the landscaping in front of the house came today. He and his employee dug out the pacasandra ( a ground cover ) and the posion ivy, edged the area with bricks that look like sandstone. Under the dining room window, they planted two dwarf alpine trees on either side, and a blue star.

The landscaper convinced Mama to also dig out the ground cover under the living room window and plant something similar. When she saw the more or less finished product under one window, she realized how crappy the pacasandra looked and had them dig that out too.

When we got home from Christopher House, we toured the work in progress. Everything is dug out and edged. The garden under the dining room is finished except for the mulch, but the one under the living room has a blue star in sitting in the plot in an wedged shape corner and that's it. The two tiny planters next to the front stoop is papered and mulched, but doesn't have any plants.

Christopher House went as well as these things usually do. We visited. Papa ran out of new things to say in 15 minutes. Discussion of his health went on. Mama ranted at him to do his exercises. Papa read the paper, then stared out the window, and watched a little of cable news. Politeness makes me refrain from saying which cable news he was watching. Mama did the above ranting and read her western. I did Sudoku and read a historical urban fantasy that my sister left at the house called "The Night's Rose" which is a very, very loose adaption of Sleeping Beauty. If I wasn't familiar with the one that her mother-in-law was an ogeress and wanted to eat Briar Rose and her children, I would have been lost. The book also fully used every creature from fairy tales: Seelie Court faeries, Fae de Nuit faeries, brownies, leprechauns, elves, dark elves, dwarves, ogres, trolls, pixes, vampires, wyrms, dragons, giants, demons, dryads, sprites, saytars, sirens and naeids. I guess unicorns have too much sense to get involved in that mess - though the 1/4th vampire, 3/8 faerie, and 3/8 human child would give some pause.

The new thing was that one of the physical therapists came and talked to Mama about how the house situation is. It kept going around in circles, but the jist is that as soon as Papa can get up and down out of a chair by himself, he's a free man. The therapist wants to keep him until Monday or Tuesday, but the final decision will be made by the doctor. Who I don't actually think has seen Papa. May I iterate that this is one of the better rehab places in the area?

The state of me has been okay too. Just some rage born out of complete agravation and boredom. = D
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
I have returned to the land of the mostly living. Last night was Restless Sleepers United, as the hot weather made upstairs unbearable ( 93 degrees! ) and thunderstorms necessitated the windows being closed making it worse.

I feel better, I'm walking better, and I'll be going to Christopher House today. Tomorrow may suck, but, well, that's tomorrow.
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Default)
Happy Canada Day!

This morning we had to run Kismet to the vet because he went from puking, to puking all over the place, to pucking blood. The vet poked and prodded, and since Kismet got his yearly shots Saturday, he hypothesized that maybe it was a delayed reaction. Or Kismet ate a bug that did not agree with him.

So they shot him up with liquids, and we have to dose him with tummy settling pills and pills to counter-act the possible reaction to his earlier shots. So far we've given him one. I can already tell this is going to be hilarious.

Now I have to go out and get my own yummy pills and return library books. But after lunch. Twincityhackers cannot survive on juice and cherries alone.
twincityhacker: hands in an overcoat's pockets (Road not Taken)
Spanish scientists discover new compound that kills human cancer cells. They have used THC to kill cancer cells in two humans, with numerous tests using cancer cells in dishes and mouse studies.

Lesson: Medical Marijuana is awesome.

I'm not sure whether or not I'm coming or going, with a shiny fucked up sleep schedule and I'm running about two and a half hours of sleep right now. I have a stack of books about Welsh on hand and two papers two write post-haste.

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