You know, it would be a lot more fun having the week off from my family if I had the week off from work as well. Working 10-hour days all week wasn’t really what I had in mind. *sigh*
State of the Lizardek Updates (for those who care):
- Returned test results confirm birch allergy. Hyper-chronic year-round allergic reactions possibly a result of similar substances found in certain foods. List of such foods included from doctor, none of which I eat.
- Work 10 hours yesterday in front of a computer with no problem. Come home and start to work on PC at home—eyes blur up almost immediately and am nearly blind by the end of the evening. Repeat same thing today. Could it be my flatscreen? If so, why hasn’t it happened before 2 weeks ago? We’ve had the flatscreen for, what? over a year. Could it be the lighting? We’ve had the same lighting for FIVE YEARS. WTF?
- Second to last day of antibiotics for the strep. I hope that takes care of it, especially since I’ve already had one colleague asking me what was up with me and the doctor visits?
- Horrible itchy winter dryness turned out to be aggravated by the skin medicine. Have reduced dosage and it seems to be subsiding, THANK GOD.
Hypothetical Question: How many times can you lose it and yell “THAT’S BULLSHIT” (about someone else) to your boss in a 2-week span? Is it 3 strikes and you’re out? Hrm. Some people (not my boss) deserve to be clutched by the neck and smacked rapidly back and forth in the face.
Yesterday evening my sister called and we had a good long chat/vent/talk which we haven’t had in quite a long time. At one time she referred to the letter I had written to my family after Christmas as a sort of long newsy thank you wherein I mentioned the evil presents she had given my children/husband over the past couple of years and declared that she had won the sweepstakes for gifts that inflicted the most pain on her sister. They included, but were not limited to: a huge and loud radio-controlled racecar, dart-shooting Nerf machine guns and a remote control mini-Ducati for Anders. My roaring stomping dinosaur tail and feet costume for her son one year could hardly compete. I told her it was all going to be fingerpaints and drum kits from now on, but she shot me down by telling me her kids don’t get to play with paints without her supervision and that they ALREADY have drum kits, so nanny nanny boo boo. “Fine,” I retorted. “You leave me no choice. Next year it’s porn and drugs.”
Iceberry Snowberry Winter-to-go-Berry Birthday Wishes to ladyvox!