I'm in an unattractively pissy mood right now. If my bed weren't pushed up against a wall, I'd say that I woke up on the wrong side of it this morning. I think I need to whine a little. Feel free to go somewhere else if you don't like whining.
I had an eye doctor appointment today, because my contacts are aging rapidly and must be replaced. I had to take off work for this appointment, so no getting paid for those two hours. Halfway there, I realized that I had forgotten to bring along the name and phone number of my previous eye doctor in Chicago, and it was too late to turn around. So I got to the eye doctor, and I handed over my glasses (which I had brought with me) so he could take a look at the prescription.
Now, I know I'm myopic. I have been since I was seven. This is not news to me. So I really don't appreciate an eye doctor who walks back into the exam room and cracks, "Gee, you're lucky you have things in your eyes, or else you couldn't see at all, ha ha." Aww, thank you, Dr. Farrar. Have a Roman fig. On the exam goes, right through the numbing eye drops that make your eyes feel funny for a couple of hours, up to the point where the ordering lady reminds me that no insurance program will pay for contacts. Sigh.
I decided to sew scores today at work, and ended up wrestling with an oversized orchestral requiem that I had to go over twice. Got stabbed in the arm by the awls, too, because the score was so big.
And I had cramps all day today, the really annoying ones that acetominophen doesn't do a fershlugginer thing for.
I should be doing something productive right now, like writing or editing or thesis-reading, but it's too hot, and I have no will to do anything useful at the moment. And I'm in a bad enough mood that no reading, writing, or editing will come out well at all. I feel like I want chocolate, but I don't, really. I want tea, but it's too hot for tea. I don't even know what I want, but I want something.
Maybe I ought to just go to bed and hope that tomorrow will be not so rotten.
I had an eye doctor appointment today, because my contacts are aging rapidly and must be replaced. I had to take off work for this appointment, so no getting paid for those two hours. Halfway there, I realized that I had forgotten to bring along the name and phone number of my previous eye doctor in Chicago, and it was too late to turn around. So I got to the eye doctor, and I handed over my glasses (which I had brought with me) so he could take a look at the prescription.
Now, I know I'm myopic. I have been since I was seven. This is not news to me. So I really don't appreciate an eye doctor who walks back into the exam room and cracks, "Gee, you're lucky you have things in your eyes, or else you couldn't see at all, ha ha." Aww, thank you, Dr. Farrar. Have a Roman fig. On the exam goes, right through the numbing eye drops that make your eyes feel funny for a couple of hours, up to the point where the ordering lady reminds me that no insurance program will pay for contacts. Sigh.
I decided to sew scores today at work, and ended up wrestling with an oversized orchestral requiem that I had to go over twice. Got stabbed in the arm by the awls, too, because the score was so big.
And I had cramps all day today, the really annoying ones that acetominophen doesn't do a fershlugginer thing for.
I should be doing something productive right now, like writing or editing or thesis-reading, but it's too hot, and I have no will to do anything useful at the moment. And I'm in a bad enough mood that no reading, writing, or editing will come out well at all. I feel like I want chocolate, but I don't, really. I want tea, but it's too hot for tea. I don't even know what I want, but I want something.
Maybe I ought to just go to bed and hope that tomorrow will be not so rotten.
- Current Music:A chorus of crickets
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Retail therapy always worked for me:)
Toy stores make me greedy, greedy for my childhood. I had SO MANY toys then, it's ridiculous.
I have to say I read over that phrase "sew scores" several times before I realized what you meant. The word "scores" probably doesn't have the same automatic meaning for me that it does for you! Why do you have to sew them?
I've been using the word "score" to refer to both baseball and music for so long that I've forgotten that most people only use it to refer to baseball. Sorry. My summer job is at the music library, and one of the things I do there is help maintain the collection. When the library gets a new score (sheet music), we have to put it in a binding to preserve it archivally (if that's a word, which it is now). Dot could probably tell you far more about book conservation than I could. Most scores, if they come bound at all, come stapled in cheap paperback bindings. Many scores don't come bound to begin with. And if it's a score for an instrumental ensemble, they'll have the individual parts tucked in, and we don't want to lose those.
We buy library binders, which are acid-free cardboard with cloth tape spines. If a score has parts, I'll glue an acid-free pocket into the back. Then I cover the parts, and the score if it needs it, with an acid-free paper cover. I take out any staples, because those rust quickly and can destroy paper, and then I sew the parts to their covers and sew the score into the binder. It's a set pattern of four figure-eight stitches, and I use a couple of awls to punch the sewing holes and pin the score to the binder while I work.
Most scores these days come in either 8.5x11 or A4 paper sizes, but sometimes we get a facsimile of an orchestral work on massively large paper. The requiem I was sewing yesterday was as long as my arm, which makes it awkward to handle, and which is why I kept getting jabbed in the arm with the awls.
Owie on the armstab, tho...
Your eye doctor is irritating me even just reading this! Good show of restraint on not slapping his smiley face ;-) I'm probably feeling it, though, because I'm still annoyed with my chemist. I had to go over on Saturday to get a prescription filled. I need the stuff for tomorrow morning and it was a long weekend so Saturday was the only time I could go. She first makes me wait ages, then comes back and says "Oh, we're out of that." I was so taken aback I just stared at her. Out of it?? She asked me when I needed it. Wednesday. "Oh, we're closed Monday for the bank holiday but sure come over Tuesday. Tuesday evening. I won't have it then either but I'll ask the delivery guy for something similar." Excuse me? You'll ask the delivery guy? Not to mention the fact that I do actually happen to have a job and can't just wander over on Tuesday. So I tell her that, through gritted teeth I might add. You know what she says then? "Maybe your mother could come over." My mother??? What am I? 12? Grrr. I was so annoyed. I muttered away to myself all the way home. I mean, it's not like she was telling me they had no fresh bread or something. And I get this from them every sodding month.
Sorry. Rant over.
So, contacts, huh? I really need to get them. I've worn glasses for years and I've tried contacts once or twice but can't get the hang of the things at all. I don't like the gritty feeling in my eyes. Of course, the last time the optician told me I had "unusually small eyes" and maybe that's why I was having trouble. LOL. He's lucky I found that funny!
I hope by today the cramps have eased. In that situation it's never too hot for tea. Tea, chocolate, bed and a favourite book you've read dozens of times :-)
Expensive, yes. Very. It must have made a huge difference to you, though?
Your eyes are indeed open for this surgery. They put numbing drops in them and give you a lot of tranquilizers. It lasts only a few seconds for each eye.
I said much the same thing myself several times yesterday. "Today's the day I shoulda stood in bed," I told one of the musicologists.
I hate doctors who mock me even more than I hate the ones who don't believe that anything they do could possibly cause pain. But it sounds like you need a new chemist even more than I need a new eye doctor. The worst that can happen with the eye doctor is that I flip him off, but this chemist sounds like a ditz playing around with people's drugs, and, at least in the U.S., that sort of behavior tends to result in the sort of incidents that play on the six o' clock news with headlines like "Death in the Drugstore! Details after These Messages!"
I've had contacts since I was fifteen, and they've always worked for me. But if you like glasses, no reason to switch to something that hurts your eyes.
I hate mocking doctors, though. It's not funny, or cute.
And it's ridiculous that medical doesn't cover all health issues, from eyes, to teeth, to everything else.
It makes no sense.
-Dira-
I can only hope. . .
I called the lady who orders contacts today to tell her the name of my old eye doctor so she could ask him what brand of contacts I'd had. Turns out that Dr. Farrar didn't even write out a scrip for the contacts, since nothing's changed. So, because I couldn't remember the brand name, and the doctor didn't want to take five minutes to fit me for new lenses, this poor lady had to track down a doctor at a place that closed down last year. Fortunately, she found him in about half an hour. And she agreed with me about doctors who make nasty remarks. We both got to bitch about the doctor a little, which helped.
It sounds to me like you deserve chocolate, tea and a nice soft comfy bed. And peace and quiet. I hope you got some.
But the stuff about the scores was really interesting. I did a bit of work in grad school in the archives department and I thought it was a blast--of course nothing stabbed me. Printing press (old one, mock-up of one from the 1600's) did close on my hand once. It hurt much less than I thought it would but I still screamed like a little girl just from the psychological factor.
So, did you end up with some fascinating bit of 17th century philosophy printed on your hand?
I went home and found my bed. Best place to be. I would have cried, but I don't make tears!
I kvetch with you.
You gotta love the doctors with whom you end up having conversations that go like this:
DOC: (does something scary-painful)
ME: OUCH!
DOC: Oh, be quiet. You're scaring the other patients.
ME: Well, it hurts.
I'm glad I didn't have a migraine yesterday. If I had, I probably would have just gone back to bed.
And nothing wrong with a good cry, even if you don't make tears. A few heartfelt wails usually do the trick anyway.
Sjogrens is an autoimmune disease. Autoimmune diseases come with a buy 1 disease get 2 free special deal. I've played several times. The primary pain of it is the lack of saliva and tears, along with arthritis and other fun stuff. Not making tears or saliva = bad. But its an orphan disease and only recently have any drug companies started making drugs to treat it. Right now my eyes are very irritated and I have to keep dumping in eyes drops and my mouth is all swollen from lack of saliva. Its worse than normal because my allergies and asthma are bothersome. :/ *whines* I really should go hide somewhere until I can be cheerful again.