Kind of a round-up

Our galaxy, the Milky Way.

WARNING: grossness ahead. Approach with caution.

I’m watching a PBS (ooh, I’m such a socialist) show about the universe. I love this stuff. I’m also eating dinner—at 9:37 pm. I’m having soup, a Hass avocado and the last two slices of bacon. It was supposed to be three, but as I was putting the bacon on my plate, one slice hit the floor. I was pissed because I’m hangry.

I went to the gym for my fourth workout in two (?) weeks. My last workout was Saturday. I didn’t want to wait that many days, but that’s how it worked out. Pun intended.

I increased some weights today and cardio didn’t seem to be a lot of work. I just miss the days when my body was waaay stronger. Baby steps, that’s what I have to take. I think I’m feeling it more in my brain right now than in my body. I feel more clarity. However, that could be the probiotics.

In other news:

Rose is almost done with COVID. I told her she can’t take her mask off outside of her room until she tests negative. She, allegedly, has an appointment at Walgreens tomorrow to get a COVID test. It’s debatable whether she actually goes. The test takes 24-48 hours to yield a result.

Another shot of my TV showing the NOVA program on WUCF.

I’ll be getting tested because some of Rose’s shit may have given me COVID. And, I do literally mean, shit. Saturday night I went upstairs to go to bed. Rose had been in her room for hours—she’s been pretty much living up there since her COVID diagnosis, going on two weeks ago (will be so on Monday). I do appreciate that she’s been doing that, and that when she comes downstairs for food, she’s masked.

However, this past Saturday night when I went upstairs, I headed into the privy, lifted the lid on the toilet and was greeted by Rose waste, and wasn’t pretty. It obviously exited her body in a hurry. I instantly became livid. I knocked on her door. My yelling woke Vickie up downstairs. I knocked loudly on Rose’s door a few times. There was no response. Not thinking, I grabbed the plunger and went to work. Then I realized I wasn’t wearing my mask. Then, I got angrier. I yelled through her door and she responded, not at all sounding as if I’d awakened her. I told her about her shit. Did she even offer to clean it, knowing that it’s full of COVID? Nope, but that’s fitting for her behavior.

I continued to plunge and flush. At one point, the bowl almost overflowed. I had to take a mini wash up afterward; I’d already showered earlier.

The next morning when I was getting ready for work, Vickie came into the kitchen and I apologized for the commotion, and I told her what it was all about. She shook her head and said, “I don’t blame you, I’d be pissed too.”

So, I’ve been wearing a mask at home until I take my COVID test. So far, I have zero symptoms, but if anyone is going to be asymptomatic in this household, it’s me. I have a very good immune system and have had all four jabs. I’ll take as many as it takes.

Rose didn’t get boosted. She’s immune-compromised five different ways, so when she was eligible for the boosters, I kept telling her to go. She never did. She enjoys being sick. More on that in a much later blog post when I’m well away from this crappy apartment, and can afford to be on my own.

Vickie’s head cold turned out to be just that and she’s on the mend. I’m glad they are both getting better. When Rose left her dump in the toilet she’d already informed us she was feeling much better. So, not feeling so hot isn’t an excuse for leaving the toilet like she did. She has a history of bad bathroom habits. More fodder for that later blog post.

Today, I had to deal with Progressive auto insurance. What a screwed up confusing company. Since I took a policy with them on May 28th, the day I bought my car (Poyndexter), I’ve received four notices of premium changes. I should have just gone back to State Farm. I’m going to call them tomorrow.

Also today, I decided to fire the gastroenterologist center I’ve been going to. I like the doctor and most of the nurses, but the office is severely fucked up. it’s like a gastroenterology warehouse, every time I’m there.

I was due for a colonoscopy this month. More than a month ago when I called to schedule it I was told that July was all booked up and they were waiting for the August schedule to drop. Over two weeks ago I called again. I was told that someone was calling all the patients due for procedures and that, “someone would be calling you next week.” Yep, I was right. That never happened. I called today and was told that August was booked and they were waiting for the September schedule to drop. “Oh really, I was told someone was going to be calling me to schedule my colonoscopy.” I cut her off by saying next, “Well, I’m probably going to go to my roommate’s doctor,” and I hung up.

I called Rose’s gastroenterologist’s office and waited for 47 minutes for someone to answer. Finally, I hung up and called Florida Blue for a list of doctors I could see. By that time it was just after 4:00 pm and the office I called was closed for the day. There was an option to leave a message, so I did that.

Thus, it’s been a frustrating week—again. I go back to work tomorrow. My shift is 9-2. I’m getting too few hours, so I’m looking for change there, too.

Sorry for the gross info, but I had to vent. Please leave comments on how you’d feel if you found such a prize in the shared bathroom. All comments are welcome.

4 thoughts on “Kind of a round-up

      1. I’m still pissed at her and it’s been almost a month. Her Munchausens put her in the hospital again. She must owe her hospital over $2 million. I’m not exaggerating. Yeah. I know Munchausens is now called Factitious Disorder imposed on self, or imposed Don other. It’s easier to use one word. She’s got it. I’m convinced. Why save your pee? Yep, she does that.


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