Coffee heat rising

A Miracle!!!!

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Hallelujah, brothers and sisters! WordPress let me into the Funny about Money site!

Who’d’ve thunk it? Especially given that this is a Whatever Can Go Wrong Will Go Wrong day. Ugh!

After slamming around and bamming around and hurting like Hell and trying to figure out how to talk my son into driving me to stores (since he insists he doesn’t want me to drive) and realizing that ain’t a-gonna work and crashing the computer and re-crashing the computer and spavining the sore shoulder even more with the damn laundry and…gawdlmighty…here I am with the computer unplugged and for reasons incomprehensible the extension cord not reaching to where it usually goes (did Wonder-Cleaning-Lady move the cords? WHY?????).

Bang around and slam around and bang around some more. Figure out what W-C-L did to suit her taste in extension cords. Undo that tidy mess and reconstitute my own untidy mess.

Think maybe I can slither down to the Sprouts on the corner, where His Lordliness is unlikely to catch me, and get most of the things I need. If they don’t carry toilet paper (for unholy and unknowable reasons, the Funny Farm’s supply of TP is bare!), then I can sneak across the road to the Albertson’s, put my life on the line dodging panhandlers, and pick up the paper goods there. Whee. What fun.

So whenever the dryer buzzes again and the stuff in there is (painfully!) unloaded, it’s off to the store. Ohhhhhh goodie…I can hardly wait.

Y’know, I rather hate grocery shopping under the best of circumstances. But here in this state of Invalidism, the last goddamn thing I wanna do is take on the traffic, dodge the bums, find something (anything) that resembles a decent roll of TP in the Land of Politically Correct groceries, dodge some more bums to slither back to the car, trudge back up to the ‘Hood through annoying traffic and around stoners stumbling into the roadway,… AAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!

***

Grrrr grrrr grrrrrrr….. This is just ducky. See that pile of cheap apartments? You can walk there from my son’s house. It’s right around the corner from his place.

Translation: Neither of our neighborhoods is safe. This whole damn city is L.A. Redux, a hole in the desert into which to house trash.

And mayhem has become pretty much SOP: business as usual for lovely North Central Phoenix.

This morning the neighbors here in the ‘Hood awakened at dawn to a serenade of gunshots. Nobody on the neighborhood Facebook page is fessing up, but apparently either a couple of sh!theads had at each other as they cruised the public streets, or one of the householders took off after yet another home invader.

{sigh} What a garden spot!

If my son were not living in the central district — by way of being close to both his father and to me — I would be soooooo GONE from this place. Really, it’s very dangerous. Centrally located and convenient: just dandy. But it’s also centrally located and convenient for every sh!thead in the Valley.

Truth to tell, the only Maricopa County districts I would choose to live in are Cave Creek/Carefree and Fountain Hills. Either is a good hour’s drive from here, through homicidal traffic. And that factoid makes Sedona and waypoints outside of Tucson look good. For that matter, Santa Fe looks mighty good by comparison, too.

But meanwhile…the centrally located districts where we live are OUTTA SIGHT when it comes to prices: as we see when surfing the million-dollar range for rather ordinary, aging upper-middle-class shacks. It really is L.A. redux. How are they getting people to pay these insane prices?

M’jito is now working 100% out of his home. This saves his employer vast quantities of money on office space — meaning the good ole’ days are unlikely to return. Meaning, further, that going forward, most white-collar folk may be working from homes, meaning…they can live anywhere they choose. And so…WHY would anyone choose to live here, when one could live in…

* Sedona
* Prescott
* The suburbs of Tucson
* Fountain Hills
* Flagstaff
*Anywhere but here?????????

Man! If I were a young person and in that fine position, you may be sure I would NOT be camped in mid-town Phoenix. Even if you wanted to hang out in this general area to be close to relatives, there are many better places to set down.

In fact, I would be trying to persuade the honored parents to move out of the central districts, since neither of them has a commute to worry about anymore. Get them to move where you want to live, and follow them there.

***

Egad! One of the neighbors has posted, on the local Facebook page, that their dog spooked, ran off, got hit by a car, kept running, and is now lost.

Ruby and I are on our way out, to search for the wayward pooch. Hope it has survived and is still in the ‘Hood somewhere.

Outta here!

Grrrrrrrrrrrrr!!!!

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Seven in the frikkin’ morning. Gotta be outta here in less than an hour, on the road through wicked rush-hour traffic, headed for the dentist. Big lump on a gum. Cancer???? The way things have been going, I sure won’t be surprised.

So, soooooo tired! I’ve been up since two a.m.: never did get back to sleep.  All I wanna do is crawl back in bed and be miserable in peace. Instead, I’ve gotta put my life on the line to traipse to the dentist.

Gotta marshal some strength to fight back. I’m totally under siege here, between the busted arm and my son’s concern.

I forget things. This is not surprising, at the age of 78. But M’jito is all worried: he thinks I’m getting senile. From what I can tell, as you round on your 80th year, you forget stuff…and that is normal. It’s easy enough to compensate with a notebook and a spreadsheet.

***

Ohhhh…kayyyy…  Now I’m dressed…after a (non) fashion. The busted arm: still in a sling, still hurts. Almost all my shirts are pullovers — and o’course I can’t get one of those over my head, not in this condition. I have some three shirts that button up the front. And they’re not exactly gorgeous with a Velcro strap slung over my shoulder. In another 10 minutes, it’s off to the dentist to find out (I hope) what the lump on my gum is. It popped up a few days ago. From what I can tell in the Hypochondriac’s Treasure Chest, it’s unlikely to be cancer. Just hope it can be left to go away (or not) on its own. I’ve had enough with the slicing and dicing!

*******

And speaking of senility…

I get all the way over to 16th and Maryland — through cut-throat rush-hour traffic — go to turn in to the garden office complex’s parking lot…and…and…and I can’t find it!!!!!

WTF!?!?!????

It’s my regular dentist’s place…why isn’t it here?

Drove all around over there and STILL couldn’t find it!

Schlepped home through the hideous rush-hour traffic. On the way I stopped at the orthodontist’s…any chance that I mistook, in my senility, the place where I was supposed to go?

Nope.

So I missed an important appointment, put my life on the line to do it by venturing out in Lovely Phoenix’s homicidal rush-hour traffic, got myself all worked up, missed taking Ruby for her beloved doggy-walk..all for NOTHING.

*****

Something is to be said about living in a given city for several decades: You get very skilled at navigating rush-hour traffic.

One comes to know all the most-traveled and least-traveled routes. All the impossible traffic signals to avoid. And the most discreet parking lots to cut through to avoid a traffic jam…without attracting acop’s attention (it’s agin’ the law to do that).

***

10 a.m.

Yep. Just ten o’clock and it’s already  been an awful morning.

I should take the little dog for a walk. Really, despite the personal awfulness, it’s a beautiful morning. The rain has cooled things down. The before-work dog walkers have done their duty and cleared off the sidewalks.

So yeah…this is the time.

On the other hand…will venturing out just make things worse for the Walking Wounded? Maybe I should think twice.

On the other other hand…I’m in no shape to think at all..much less to do it twice.

Busted, Disgusted, and….

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…and at least clean now!

Managed to get in the shower all by myself this afternoon…AND washed my hair. It’s a miracle!

I can’t believe it’s been SIXTEEN DAYS since I did this to myself! Feels like it happened just a day or two ago. 😮

But… Well, but it is beginning to feel noticeably better. Far from functional, but a fair amount less painful.With any luck, in another two or three weeks I can get out of the accursed sling.

{chortle!}  Take another look at this thing:

Is that or is that not the business? I never have gotten around to schlepping to PetSmart and waypoints in search of one for sale locally. Though I can drive one-handed, it doesn’t seem well-advised. So if I’m going to get any such thing, it’ll have to come from Amazon.

Ruby the Corgi is too small to get on the Queen’s bed by herself. I’m too crippled to lift her up, and apparently will be for several more weeks. So the poor miserable beast has been spending the nights on the floor, in her favorite nest under the toilet, or on a big ole’ doggy-cushion next to my bed. And Hevvin only knows how long it’ll be before I can lift her up on the throne again.

The thing looks like it’ll take up an awful lot of space — and won’t Wonder Cleaning-Lady be pleased to find THAT contraption lurking in her way! 😀

ooohhh well…

***

 

 

 

 

…a-a-a-n-d… The lingering aftermath

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Believe it or not, the Wounded Dragon-Lady is actually up moving around!

Believe it or not, the old bat is stumbling around the cave and even over the badlands of the backyard. It’s a spectacularly beautiful morning, and here we are loafing away the balmy morning on the lovely little side porch in the shade of the huge trees on the west side if the Funny Farm.

Come to think of it, though, hold the metaphorical phone….

**** Much later ****

Another not-very metaphorical Day from Hell. Pain followed by frustration followed by pain followed by…so on to infinity. Felt better for a couple hours this morning, but it didn’t last.

Things could be worse, though. One could still be dwelling in Saudi Arabia, on the shore of the Persian Gulf. The Middle East: what a horror show.

My son just showed up. Wandered off to the living room to unwind from a day of work. Me, I’m too sick to get out of bed. or to be anything like decent company.

****

Mijito’ showing up after work is awfully nice. I’m in no shape to entertain him, being sick as a dawg just now. Think the aspirin I’ve been gulping for the shoulder pain is not agreeing.

*****

Sunday

But now another night and half a day have passed. This a.m the pain was much diminished — why, I do not know.

And just now? Crippled again!

Ugh!! Goin’ back to bed…

 

 

WORSER & WORSER

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GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!  Want pain? Lemme tellya PAIN!

Spent the better part of y’day and this morning at the Mayo Clinic’s ER.

I fell face-forward on the tiled floor. Reflexively stuck out my left hand as I was going down. Whacked the Hell out of my hand. Busted the humerus, one of the long bones of the upper arm. Apparently didn’t break anything else (to my surprise). But oh!

Hurt?  Lemme tella HURT! 

And hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt… Holy mackerel, it hurts!

The little dog is accustomed to sleeping on the bed. But she’s too small to jump up here by herself: she has to be lifted.

They told me not to lift her onto the bed. (They who have no clue to what a corgi is…) So of course I’ve been lifting her onto the bed.

Just now: Slipped. Lost my footing. Dropped the dog. Wrenched the arm, And HURT!!!!!

Oh Dear GOD did that hurt.

This elicited a sky-splitting shriek of agony. Terrorized the little dog. She now refuses to come out from under the toilet.

That may be just as well. At least she won’t be out here banging on the bed trying to get up.

I don’t think Ruby got hurt. But I sure as hell did.

Ohhhhh well…  The worst of the screaming pain has about subsided

And hallelujah, brothers & sisters, Amazon carries little staircases to help a small dog climb on the bed!

heee! Have you ever seen such a thang?!?

I’m thinking that tomorrow, if I can drive (highly questionable), I’ll run over to the nearest Petsmart and grab one of these for Ruby. Failing that: order it up from Amazon.

Dunno, tho… Amazon shows several models that are cheaper. Oh, well. There’s plenty of time to think about that.

Stop the World!

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…I wanna get off!

Dammit, it’s not even 6:30 in the accursed morning and I wanna get off the world. WHAT. A. DAY!

Already…

Ruby has demanded to get up twice in the wee hours of an already insomniac night. This shouldn’t matter, because I was already awake both times…but wishing I could please please PUHLEEZE, dear Gawd, get back to sleep.

Something is making Ruby’s stomach growl. Hunger? She was fed last night. I think. Did I forget to feed her? Since I can’t even remember my name these days, that’s not outside the realm of possibility.

So she just comes in from this latest excursion and we stumble back to the bedroom, where we hear, coming from the sidewalk outside the east wall… thumpada thumpada thumpada THUMPADA

What the fuck IS that?

It’s not a kid, not at this hour. No car is out there. Bicycles don’t thump. So…what?

Probably a coyote.

And that’s why Ruby can’t be left alone in the backyard to do her thing — certainly not at this hour, and more generally, not at any hour. Coyotes around here will come right over a six-foot wall to grab your cat or your dog.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard that noise. In the past I’ve thought it was some idiot on a bicycle, maybe hauling a kiddie cart, somehow thumping on the sidewalk. Anything’s possible, I suppose…but it doesn’t sound like bicycle wheels. It sounds like something four-legged, running along at a fast clip. Whatever it is, it’s gone by the time I get outside.

Shee-ut. Speaking of random noises in the wee hours, here comes a cop helicopter. Or…maybe a traffic-yakking copter — it’s quarter to seven, approaching High Rush Hour.

Quarter to seven means I’ve been awake half the night. Ruby’s stomach is still growling and squealing. I do KNOW that I fed her last night. So what the heck brought that on?

{moan} Gotta get up, feed the dog, and start stumbling around…