The Kvetch Thread

Wow!!!!!

tsar, The tv is old. Thanks for asking. I'll keep the colors in mind.

I agree, deb. Wow re my cousin.

Yes, my Giants won the Super Bowl. Yes, I'm happy, smiling, pleased, joyful, and triumphant.

Why am I on the kvetch thread? The parade, gang, the parade. No, I'm not considering going to the parade, but I am considering watching it. I love this kinda stuff. But it starts at the crack of dawn (11 a.m.). I'm afraid I'll be blinded by the light of the shiny round thing up in the sky.

We have to move you into my hellish apartment then. The sun shoots out its horrific eye stabbing rays and refuses to let me sleep. Since I am usually waking up at about the time you are heading off to sleep, this may not seem like much, but there are times I'd prefer sleep.


Whaddaya mean close the curtains, draw the blinds?

I broke another steenkin' tooth. This one hurts. I have a problem chewing. Fie, feh, and phooey.

Working on a rush job. Bleary eyed, which slows me down. Just a phooey for this one.

I sympathize. I have had dental problems all my life.

Finally got an appointment with the dentist. Have to wait a week. Should be ok. I called the general number. I assumed that my dentist was gone. My appointment is with her. Got info if this beomes an emergency.

Blech.

Good!

I'm trying to find out if my Medicaid has been discontinued. It appears to have been ended, but I haven't received any notice.

I called the number on the back of my card. Entered my nineteen-digit card number and was informed that they have no record of me. I entered the nineteen numbers again. Nope. They don't know me.

I called another number on the back of my card. I entered my social security number and date of birth. Reached a human who asked me for my social security number and date of birth. She don't know nuttin' and gives me a number to call my local Medicaid office.

I called and reached a verizon ad. Over and over again. I gave up.

I googled my local office and called. They don't got room on the machine for more messages.

I tried another number from google. Dead line.

Is this any way to treat a nice goil like me?

The dirty words I've been saying would suggest maybe not so nice.

I had to cancel an appointment tomorrow. Why? I gotta go to the business office and get things straightened out. This could take hours. Also, my local Medicaid office is in the hospital. I'll bring lunch and dinner.

More dirty words. Lots and lots of dirty words. Where did I learn all these words?

Ah, it did hurt. (More catch-up.) (As in getting current, not putting tomatoey stuff on my hamburger.)

The Medicaid stuff is awful. Did you have an advocate-type person who was helping you with this sort of thing at some point? (Social worker?) If so, is that person still available? I know how draining it can be to deal with this kind of paperwork chaos.

Why the hell would your bloody Medicare be cancelled?

I am adding a few dirty words on your behalf, boita.

Medicare not cancelled. Medicaid cancelled. Medicaid was probably cancelled because I was getting Medicaid for the Working Disabled. Then I retired to get social security. No longer officially working. Guessing. I woulda asked if I coulda.

I had somebody who helped me get the Medicaid. Mebbe I'll send him an e-mail.

My Medicare info is in disarray. I was getting Medicaid (better) and wasn't paying sufficient attention to Medicare. Now I gotta pay attention.

I know only so many dirty words. I've been throwing in a bit of Yiddish. Don't know many dirty words in Yiddish. But the curses sound harsh. Lots of ch sounds.

As one of my favorite poets, Robert Burns, so aptly put it,

"The best-laid plans o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley."

Bobby knew from plans.

I didn't have work, so I sent out an e-mail asking people to keep me in mind. I got a proofreading job. Standard. No big problems. Not a rush.

Then I got a copyediting job. Very short--slightly more than 100 pages. No big rush.

I always figure out the number of pages and the number of days I have to get them done. Then I pace myself.

Then someone asked me to take on another copyediting job. About 200 pages. Also not a rush.

I generally don't like to take on more than two projects at a time. But the first editing project was very short--and I have plenty of time. I said yes to the second editing project. It would add about 15 pages a day to my work schedule.

Then I get an e-mail from the editor of the first editing project. Ooops, says she. She wrongly estimated the page count. It ain't 100 pages; it's 200 pages.



So now I'm behind schedule because I was pacing myself based on the 100 pages.

And all of a sudden, I'm in a rush. I have to get an additional 100 pages done in the same amount of time.

Phooey.

computers, aaargh

been having some issues, but it seems to be coming along now

should be B & O'ing next week

Missed you big time, kid. Hate them mechanized devices. Hang in.

*********************************************

Today is St. Patrick's Day. Why am I kvetching about it? Because most parades end in my neighborhood. That's why. All afternoon I will hear car horns honking, because the cross street is being paraded. And for much of the night I will listen to drunken youths screaming, yelling, and fighting out in the street. Granted the archdiocese took some action to eliminate some of the drinking, fighting, yelling, and screaming. It worked, but not 100 percent. Still, I can kvetch if I wanna, and I wanna.

Yes, one more kvetch.

I was tired yesterday. I decided to take a nap last night before I did my work. Slept for seven hours. When I woke up, the sun was shining. Now I'm confused. Is it Friday night or Saturday morning? I didn't have my before-bed cookies and milk, so it must be Friday night. Except I was concerned that I might sleep long, so I had my before-bed meds. Saturday morning?

Did some work. Friday night.

Went to the drugstore. Saturday morning.

I'm gonna have my cookies and milk, take another nap, and see what happens.

And the word for this is fuhblungit. Don't like being fuhblungit.

Roberta, can I ask you something about having cancer? Or like, can I PM you and ask you?

Absolutely. Ask me anything, kid.

Ok. Thanks!

Like, when you got cancer, how'd you know you had it? Did you get sick or something and you just went to the doctor or something or did it hurt?