Tuesday, September 25, 2007

Misc # 3

Heck, I think that's the right number...

Anyhoosker, I am all alone. Aside from the furry brats. He's off doing that fun riot team training. It's been quiet all day and I've enjoyed it until now. Work done, I can go watch TV for awhile but...I think I might just go to bed and read a bit.

I have to find a nice doctor in this town. Too many things not quite right and I'm starting to get a little concerned. Trigger finger, consistent numbness in hands, strange stuffy feeling when I bend over...

And then there is the dental appointment to make in Atlanta when we visit next month. See, I have this thing...going to see a dentist is like...going to a firing squad. Totally phobic, I have to steel my nerves and I sit there in the chair stoic, frozen and just like some frigid bride, lie back, and "think of England". But I found this fantastic guy and a great office. He understands my issues completely. They're very calm and quiet and patient. I always make sure I have a hair clip so that I can take it out and play with it during the procedures - anything to distract me. I don't know what to say - I get all frantic just thinking about it.

So there is a lot of poking and prodding and expensive damned crap to come but I have to take advantage of the fact that my deductible is met. And...in truth...I think it's all related to the boobs. Okay, not the dental visit. But the hands...so maybe I can get that corroborated and start the further agonizing process of planning for that bit of joy.

It is either surgery or a similar level of investment in corsetry.

Add in to this whole mess the fact that my hormones are on a roller coaster this week...I'm tearing up over the Geico gecko for shit's sake. I mean, WTF?!

My sister emailed me about her job at the university in Chicago. This is a situation that she has festered in for a few years now. Before that she festered elsewhere. She is...I don't even know how to describe her. Smart, very. But too polite and quiet. Each job has essentially found her being treated like crap for very little salary. And I feel so sorry for her. Because she spent years getting degrees and is still just a mouse in a room of cats.

And she's asking me what to do...I shall tell you all a terrible secret - a shameful secret that I tell very few. I have literally no formal education. None. The last grade I actually remember with any clarity is 6th (bless you, Mr. Williams, wherever you are...). After the 9th, I went on to...other, more profitable, endeavors. As for 7th through 9th? I hardly recall a thing...a paper in lit class that the teacher read aloud - though thankfully anonymously...aceing cooking class while utterly "medicated"...having a panic attack at the start of a school year wherein you weren't handed your classes on a sheet of paper like in Chicago - no, you shuttled from one table and teacher to another in a room full of kids and parents and my father - my darling father who had done rather little for me in my life till that moment - let me hide my terrified face in his jacket as he picked the courses I would never attend and select teachers whom I would never see. In that moment I forgave a decade of failure. To this very moment, my love for him blooms on that stem of kindness.

Those are the snippets that I can remember and I get these messages from a woman with her - what is it? Doctorate?- and I absolutely cannot fathom it. How can a person get so many pieces of fine paper with pretty ribbons and yet not be able to cope with office politics? All those years wasted so that you can be a glorified admin? I try hard to make the supportive noises but after all this time I am running out of platitudes.

So if we happen to meet and the talk runs to alma maters and majors, you'll understand why I'll excuse myself to the Ladies or refresh my drink.

A strange night...perhaps it's just that I am so tired and full of stupid estrogen. It was a nice evening yesterday, though, as Trooper and I drove through the late night air to drop off reports at the office. An empty country road with just the dead skunks and crickets on the air...autumn is coming and, in it, I hear the words I read all those long years ago...

"Beware the autumn people. For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September & November touches October & then istead of December & Christ's birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again & old October & so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings fall is ever the normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? the grave. Does blood stir in their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss betweeen the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. The frenzy forth. In gust they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, & surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles - breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them."

Ray Bradbury ~ Something Wicked This Way Comes

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