Joyous discovery last night while cleaning off the kitchen table: my old contacts, YAY! Today, I can see my monitors, my corneas are slowly stopping hurting, and as an added bonus, it turns out my vision insurance card wasn’t in my wallet after all, so I can find another doctor and get some proper lenses. Insert Dance of Happiness here.
In other news, I’ve officially blown NaBloPoMo. I spent Saturday & Sunday painting and cleaning and prepping for Thanksgiving, and yesterday evening cleaning some more, and have been so cranky from the contacts & the concomitant headache that I couldn’t face a moment at the computer. Also, I was wrecked. I always forget how much work painting is; I just can’t resist it!
(Needless to say, my attempt to take pictures and play my bass every day have also fallen by the wayside. Boo.)
And my mom’s coming in tonight, a day early for her Thanksgiving weekend chez Loki et Suriel. Very, very cool. Posts will probably be thin on the ground, still, but I’m occasionally Twittering.
Seriously, screw them right in the ear. I am so pissed off at that horrible doctor I could spit nails.
I’ve been trying to get contacts from them for two fucking months, and they’ve screwed up THREE PAIRS so far. They think I’ll be coming back for a fourth, but as soon as I get my replacement insurance card, I’m going somewhere else.
This latest pair? Actually hurts. Except not right away. So I’m sitting here at work, I can barely see my computer screen, I did not bring my glasses, and my right eye hurts. In the hundred years I’ve been wearing contacts, I have never had a pair cause my eyes actual pain.
I’ve submitted a scathing review to Angie’s List, and I’ll be sending complaints to everyone else I think of. SO ANGRY.
OK, so not in pink, and I’m for sure not wearing platforms, and probably not lace-up leggings as well, and I have no idea what’s growing out of her scalp (what the hell is that thing? Is it supposed to be a spiky tiara or something?) but I bet we could totally Reliquary-ify this look for our shows.
As a bonus, there are about 48,496,764 places to hide a ear-monitor receiver in that thing, and it would make my waist look tiny.
Not sure what Loki would wear to coordinate, but he’d totally have something to hide behind for photo shoots. It’s a win-win!
Thing the first : Which of you guys recently said that Lamb was your favorite Christopher Moore book?
Thing the second : Is anyone aside from KT, Josh, Jared & Jill coming for Thanksgiving? The actual meal, I mean. Turning up after for pie and grazing doesn’t count.
Thing the third : There is no thing the third.
Thing the fourth : KT, txt me. I don’t have your number in the new phone, for some strange reason. Also, I’ve emailed you about 94 squijillion times. I’m guessing your email has a hate for me.
Born in the old House of Awful and nurtured to maturity with shards of olive-oil covered glass, cat-yack and one dropped wine bottle too many, my loathing of tile floors has finally been boiled down to its essence.
See, I thought it was the tiles themselves: cold, inhospitable, a bitch to keep cat-hair-free and the clear winner in a fight between the floor and anything dropped from waist height. But no, really, that’s not what I hate.
I hate the grout.
I’ve spent several hours recently with the FloorMate’s grout attachment, and while it’s pretty good, it’s no match for the grout in the new place, which was grey and occasionally black with unknown filth. I’ve killed the bristles and bent the handle. And the handle’s way too short and resulted in an even more Quasimodo-esque hunch than I normally sport.
New plan: kneepads and a scrub brush, and someone trailing behind me with the wet-vac. Or, better yet, flat scrubbies I can strap to my feet and skate across the floor. No way that could end badly.
I was all set to write a lengthy rant about looking for a replacement wallet (they all suck) and how I had to settle for the lesser of so very many evils in my wallet quest last night, but then I found my exact old wallet online!
Of course, I can’t order it until I get one of my replacement cards, but it makes me quite happy. I dragged Loki to 4 different stores last night in my wallet quest, and complained the entire time.
Finding exactly what I wanted is going a long way to making me feel better about losing my wallet. While losing the money — and the rest of it — sucks, I was quite upset about the wallet itself, which I loved.
So all’s well that ends … a bit less suckily. Always looking on the bright side, me.
Let’s start with the good, shall we?
- Hanging out with Dot, Jared, Jill, D.M-F.P. et famille, and assorted be-costumed friends at the Faerie Festival.
- Finding my favorite sunglasses in the truck Sunday morning, after having thought them lost and gone forever.
- Getting paid to play the Faerie Festival. We seem to get paid for about one in three shows, so this was a nice novelty. Sadly, while that was a good thing for several hours, it ended badly.
Sadly, the good things were far outweighed by the bad.
- The sound at our show. Holy crap, y’all. No bass for two songs, no guitars for quite a bit of the set, no drums whatsoever for the entire set. Either the audience thought that we were really lame, or that we’ve got excellent rhythm. (On the plus side, the songs in which there was no bass were the songs I screwed up badly, so everything’s relative.)
- Losing my wallet at the club after. And it’s not just that I have to cancel all my cards, or that I have to hunt down all our auto-debited bills, order a new driver’s license, and try to remember what else was in there, but that it was the one time I had more than $6 in my wallet. So much for my part of the aforementioned performance fee.
- The excruciating headache I’ve had since Sunday midafternoon. Nothing’s helping.
Oh, and I missed posting on Saturday, and there was brouhaha at the club. JOY.
However! I’m hoping that, having vented, things will start looking up soon.