@dlowan,
Was that a hint? You want kvetching? Brace yourself.
I do some work for a company in India. Fact is, the company I usually work for is in NY. They farm out some work to the company in India. It costs them less, I guess, to farm out the book. So I get hired by the Indian company and am paid less for the same steenkin' work I would do if the company in NY hired me. I can live with this. Some money is better than no money. (Harumph!) But how long does it take the Indian company to pay me? I submitted my last bill October 8. Still waiting. I've been told twice that the check will be mailed on Monday. Ich hubse in drerd from this. Plus by the time I get paid, inflation kicks in. So I end up with even less than the original less. Mumzas.
Another work kvetch. I started my last editing job. Two weeks for a four hundred page manuscript. Major rush. I get started immediately. I edit four chapters. Then I get a casual e-mail from the editor. She's sending me revises of Chapters 2 through 7. You mean I edited Chapters 2, 3, and 4 and gotta do it again?! Yes. I asked for more money. Got it. Asked for more time. Didn't get it. Then I was criticized for missing stuff. "Tell her to stop rushing." That's thudworthy, but I'm too pissed to fall down. And too tired to get up.
One of the side effects of radiation to the throat is dry mouth. Result. My teeth are rotting. Falling apart. I decided to go to a dental clinic. Students do the work overseen by actual dentists (must have been the person who looked older than 12 years of age). First visit, I'm there for two hours. The student took my history and X-rays. Never actually looked in my mouth. Hey, take a steenkin' look in my mouth. Am I being too picky. I've been accused of being too picky.
I hate being poor. Loathe it. Despise it. Can't stand it. Trying to decide what family jewels to sell next sucks. Why doesn't some rich person give me some money? Why does everything have to be a production.
I've spent every Christmas for the past thirty plus years (when I was physically able) up at my friend Sheila's house in the suburbs. Always enjoy it. Also like to know what I'm doing for Christmas. This year Sheila's son (who lives in Malaysia) won't be coming home until the end of January. So they're not celebrating Christmas until then. Glad there will be a celebration, but that ain't Christmas. Just because I ain't Christian doesn't mean they can fool me. I know when Christmas is. Not in January.
Three different doctors wanted me to have a PET scan--throat docs, asthma doc, and endocrinologist (there's a node on my adrenal gland she's keeping an eye on). Amazingly, astonishingly, stunningly, I had only one PET scan. There must have been some screw up at the hospital; they did it right. BTW, a PET scan covers the top of my head to my knees, all the necessary body parts.
I've got more. But I'll stop now. Nothing like a good kvetch to get my juices flowing.