last night

I had a lot of errands last night after work, some of which I did on the way home and some of which I went back out for. So after I was done with all that--oh, and being aggravated by the Surgicenter--I really had no energy to do a goddamn thing in my house. This is unfortunate, since I have not wrapped any presents yet. I keep looking at them and thinking about it, but that's as far as it goes. I did, however, stay up to watch Hoarders.

But before we get to that, let's explore why I was pissed at the day surg people, shall we? As I knew from when I had my own surgery in September, they do a phone screen two days before your procedure. But a few days before *that* they call you and tell you they're going to do the phone screen. Anyway, the nice secretary at the surgeon's office who has been going strictly through me (since talking to my dad on the phone involves, y'know, shouting) told me she would have the phone screen people also call me, on Monday. We even got a paper in the mail stating just that. Well, the end of last week, the hospital called my dad while I was at work and told him about the phone screen. "Can you talk to my daughter?" he asked. No, they told him, they were not allowed to do that. When he told me that, I was like, that's not what Kathy told me, but nevertheless he insisted they were adamant. So I was expecting him to get the call yesterday, not me.

So naturally, they did call me. And my cell was in my purse in the "back room", not with me in my office. Because I wasn't expecting an important call. By the time I realized I had voicemail, I had already left work and was in the midst of one of my errands. The voicemail said I could call them back until 5. The woman leaving the voicemail also helpfully slurred the phone number. I tried to call back--from a public place--and apparently had misheard the extension. So they transferred me. To another wrong number who transferred me to someone else. In pediatrics, because they thought it was my child I was doing the screen for. Arghhh. It was now 4:32. The pedi surgicenter woman transferred me to the right number, but warned me beforehand that the secretary down there was already gone and no one was gonna answer. Even though they specifically had told me I could call until 5pm. This is, I will mention, the fucking hospital at which I myself work. It reinforces my belief that I am one of the few people in this organization who knows what the hell they are doing and actually does it.

(Anyway, I called them first thing this morning from work. Since I stupidly left my phone home in the charger, it's a damn good thing I remembered what the correct extension was. Oh, Andrea.)

So, really, all I wanted last night was a glass of wine, some olives, and my Hoarders. And there were no human feces this week. Just a couple of people with waaayyyy too much stuff. One of them was a black gay man from Boston who was of the artistic persuasion and loved to dumpster dive. Apparently he knew where all the good dumpsters were, because his apartment was jam-packed with absolutely beautiful things. I mean, this guy was a collector of stuff that was actually collectible. But he was being threatened with losing his government housing subsidy because his apartment was a fire hazard. Also, because there was suspicion amongst the neighbors that his dumpster diving had introduced roaches into the building.

And, oh, they mentioned those neighbors paid $3000 a month for their places. It was kind of unclear if this was one of those mixed-income buildings, or since the guy mentioned he had lived there 30 years, whether he lived there before it was gentrified and was still there under some kind of loophole. It was a beautiful apartment and the outside of the building was spiffy. I was trying to figure out where it was--it didn't look familiar, but it had to be the South End or maybe the Fens. Actually, probably the Fens, the more I think about it. Anyway, I liked the local color and the gentleman was a hoot. But the feces and flattened dead cat episodes are more interesting. I think they should have entertained me more since I had such a hard day!

That's all I have to say about that. (I think that's gonna be my new sign off. Maybe, y'know, for the new decade.)

xoxo