complain

I went to the college clinic (nonprofit), saw a nurse practitioner, and paid nothing. A few days later, the N.P. called me to see how I was doing and how the prescriptions were working. I could not have been more pleased.

I said to a colleague, “Do I ever, ever get wonderful, caring service like that when I go to a doctor and pay through the nose? No.”

Conversely, when I called our regular doc’s office just the other day, I got a total runaround. Our doc had said, when Nick and I were both there once, that there was a doc in the practice who made house calls in case Nick ever needed it. So, seeing that Nick was coming down with what I had, I decided to see if someone could come by before Thanksgiving. I called, they gave me a number for Home Health Services. I called and left a message with them. I was not there when they called and gave a message to the caregiver, but the upshot was that before he can recieve a house call, he has to come in to see his doc. Hello . . . if he comes in, he won’t need the fricking house call.

It’s not easy to get Nick in to the doc. It takes two people, and I’d have to take off work here at the end of the semester. So, I’ll just have to wait, and if he gets sick enough (not too bad yet, thank goodness), take him in to the doc-in-the-box. I am also considering stopping my antibiotics and giving them to him. I have some sort of similar antibiotics in a drawer that I could take.

Argh.

After one day of general malaise and two days of laryngitis, sore throat, and a voice resembling that of a pitbull on helium (i.e., squeaky and unintelligible), I am moving into stage three, which seems to involve constant coughing and a resultant inability to sleep.

I am drinking hot tea and honey and hoping that sleep will find me soon.

Also hoping I don’t run out of honey. The plastic bear is almost empty.

every new version of a Microsoft product would work seamlessly with the old version of that product. Every new version of Word would accept documents from the old versions and seamlessly update them. Microsoft Works documents could be opened in Word. Anything created on Windows XP could be opened unaltered in Windows Vista.

And users of Microsoft products would not be treated to little popups offering to check to make sure that the framework on the PC was “genuine Windows.” Sure, no, problem, intrude on my PC, imply that I am a thief. I won’t be offended. Much.

In other words, if I were Bill Gates, I would not, with every new product, encourage people to pray that somehow, it would rain Macs and that all Microsoft products would simultaneously explode.

And the sad thing is, I say this as a longtime, dedicated PC user.

I am sooooooooo pissed off right now that I could just strangle someone! (Not to be taken literally, dear Robots, just a random idle threat)

I have a Flexible Spending Account at work. For those not familiar with such things, it is a vehicle whereby you can deposit up to $3000 of pretax money, your own hard-earned funds, to pay for health-care expenses. I have done this ever since Nick became ill, because we have significant medical expenses not covered by health insurance.

They issue a card, like a credit card, and you pay for insurance copays on prescriptions and doctor’s visits, as well as things like wound care supplies, bed pads, and things that health insurance does not cover. It is your money that the card pays, but the advantage to you is that it is untaxed money.

In previous years, if they questioned a claim, they did not pay it, and it was up to me to provide validation or not. Usually, it was “not,” since our expenses always exceed the amount taken out of my pay for the flexible spending account.

This year, another company is administering our FSA accounts. They questioned a doctor’s visit of Nick’s—a mystery to me. What the hell can you do at a doctor’s office that is not health-related? So I got a receipt on the next visit and printed out a form to send in.

Now, I do take my time with such things, and I have held onto that form for a couple of weeks now. It is NOT my top priority. Today, I received a notification that my card has been suspended. In other words, I can no longer use my OWN money to pay for prescription copays, medical supplies, or physicians’ copays . . . until I provide proof that Nick went to the doctor for a legitimate reason, as opposed to, say, playing poker in the supply room. Am I pissed? Rhetorical question, folks.

You can bet that my HR person will hear about this, and that the company administering the FSA will, too. Refuse to pay a claim without additional info? Sure. Suspend my card? Hell no!

All of a sudden, my 43T page is a full, unframed page. All other internet pages are framed, so it is not that I have accidentally hit the wrong button on my computer.

I CANNOT DEAL WITH NOT BEING ABLE TO SWITCH EASILY FROM SITE TO SITE ON THE BOTTOM OF THE PAGE. HOW DO WE GET THE PAGES TO LOOK NORMAL AGAIN???

They are just too hard to deal with.

Today, I decided that I should probably put some air in the wheelchair van’s tires, since I have had the van for over a year and supposedly tires lose a pound a month of air pressure.

I go to the gas station armed with $2 in quarters. I look on the inside of the door to see what the tire pressure should be, and naturally, the sticker that is supposed to tell me is not there. Well, that’s okay, since the pressure there usually says a cool tire, and I have never understood that. By the time you drive to the gas station, the tire is hot. What are you supposed to do, wait?

I do have a tire pressure gauge, more than one in fact. But they don’t work well. I even had a digital one, but the last time I tried it, it told me I had 900-some pounds of pressure in each tire. That might have been a bit high.

So I do my usual guessing game of “Is too much of this tire resting on the concrete?” “Is the tire pooched out too far on the side?” I try to get the amount of tire resting on concrete equal on all sides, and then I try to get the poochage equal on all sides. A buck-fifty later, it looks pretty good.

Still, it should be easier. Maybe tires of solid rubber that cost a bundle but last forever and never need inflating. I could go for that. Or stone tires, a la Fred Flintstone.

before I do my gratitudes!

I am doing my taxes, and I must, must get a better system. I have all these papers to sort through, and even though I have four boxes (tax stuff, medical, statements, bills) that I put them in during the year, there’s too much to sort through at the end.

And my desk! Kill me now. Where are my paper clips? Stapler? In a drawer that I can’t get to because all my stuff is sitting on the pull-out thingy! And is that my adding machine in the closet, upside down in a box with no paper in it?

I think I need to keep track of tax stuff monthly. And I think I need a long table instead of this small, crowded desk. I also need more hours in the day and less stuff to do.

Countdown to May! I will be finished with my book in late April, taxes on April 15 (I hope), classes in early May. Then it’s just one class in the summer and plenty of time to swim with Nick and maybe, maybe get things organized.

One funny thing on TurboTax. There’s a section where people can ask questions and other people can answer them. One person asked, “What is the District of Columbia? Are California and Nevada in it?” Although there were a couple of straightforward answers, one person replied, “If you have to ask, should you be doing your own taxes?” Sheesh.

but no.

At work, when I turn in my grades electronically, I also have to print copies and sign them. Same with my self-evaluation, my syllabi, and so on.

Also, if I sign up for electronic statements, at some places they are only available to me for six months online. So if I want to keep them, I have to what? PRINT THEM OUT!

And do NOT get me started on the SIX different passwords I have to remember for work. How many of us have BEGGED for a single password that we can use in all applications??

Okay, rant over.

about to whine.

My nose is stuffy. And my toe hurts.

to hook up to my TV so that I can watch Netflix movies instantly.

Friends S and P hook it up last night. Yay!

This morning, I bring in my laptop, connect to Netflix, find a movie, download the stuff necessary to play it. I tune the TV to the Roku, certain of success, because, according to the Roku peeps, if I get a wireless connection in the room where my TV is, I will have noooooo problemo.

But I do have a problemo. Even though the laptop is RIGHT NEXT TO the FREAKING TV, the device has a problem finding the local wireless network.

Well. No problem. I will just put my life on hold, go to GA Tech for 4 years, and get my electronic engineering degree. Then I will go to a technical school and get my electronics technology certificate. Then I will come back home and hook up my TV to Netflix. But my technology will be outdated. I will buy more. Then I will have some problem with it. I will go back to GA Tech for my master’s. Then I will refresh my training at the technical school. Then I will come back home. But my technology will be outdated . . .

When I die, they will bury me with my Roku and my four remotes, and my headstone will say, “She’s in Heaven watching Netflix.”