In Which My Nose is Roto-Rootered, and I Enjoy A New Phone

My mobile phone bit the dust a week ago, as a result of being thoroughly Scoutified.

So, after selling my soul to T-Mobile, I picked up a Motorola RAZR and a bluetooth ear thingy. As silly as those bluetooth ear thingys look, I look forward to my next hour-long conference call with the knowledge that I will be able to flap my arms like a duck while listening in.

Also, I’m very excited that I can tap the button on the ear thingy, say “Stacey… STACEY… stacey… STAcey… dammit… STACEY!… staCEY…” for five minutes, and the phone will possibly eventually call her automatically via the miracle of voice recognition. Modern technology is wonderful.

In other exciting modern news, I’m having my nose Roto-Rootered at some un-Dogly hour of the morning on Friday. So, as you start your day that day, take joy in the fact that no one is sticking a sharp slicing implement in your nostril.

The hope is that I’ll come through the other end with a straight septum and the ability to breathe through my right nostril, to say nothing of a distinct lack of eye-popping-pressure in the sinus area. In the meantime, I shall be enjoying a weekend with gauze pads taped to the underside of my nose with a bloodstream full of heavy-duty controlled substances. Anyone need a date to a fancy dinner party somewhere? I’m your man.

I have been extremely excited about this for the past year as I waited for my sick days counter to reset, in anticipation of getting this particular gremlin off my back. But as it draws closer, and I’ve been given my long list of prescription stuff to be filled and detailed and graphically described list of pre and post-op Things To Do, it’s becoming clear that this is not going to be a Pleasant Experience. In fact, it may, and I hate to sound pessimistic, suck more than a little bit.

I take consolation in that I can have my phone and Bluetooth earbud. Should I need something to ease my discomfort during my convalescence, I can simply tap my ear and say “Stacey… STACEY… STAAAAAAAACEY… stacey… STAAAAAAACEEEEEEYYYYYY… dammit.”

Allergic to Ghosts (or What a difference a D makes)

So, I basically missed halloween.

I put on my cowboy hat and vest (my Emergency Costume left over from the wild west Scandal! soap opera) and shortly thereafter felt headachy and woozy. Terribly woozy. My ears were popping, and there was tons of pressure on my sinuses. I told Stacey I was going to lie down, and did thusly. I was pretty much out for the night.

I heard the first trick or treaters come to the door, I heard Roan screaming, and I was pretty much out after that.

The next day I felt scant better, and phoned up my hippy doctor Dr. Wadsworth. I went in for an afternoon appointment, and…

Doc: You have allergies. Have you ever had allergies?
Me: Not really. But I took Clariten yesterday, and it didn’t do any good!
Doc: Did you take Clairiten-D or Clariten?
Me: Uh. I dunno. I wasn’t paying attention.
Doc: Was it small like this (draws a very small pill) or large like this (draws a larger pill)?
Me: Small.
Doc: You need the larger. Clariten-D.

Every time I go to the doctor, I feel like a small child, or perhaps an idiot. It’s the same when I go to the mechanic.

Being passed out on Halloween for just some stupid allergies makes me feel stupid.

It’s just that I didn’t get sick all that often growing up, and when I did they were very basic colds. My father’s philosophy on medicine was not to take it, if you can get by without it. “How do you know the headache won’t go away if you don’t take the aspirin?” So I just don’t know about this stuff.

This morning I voted. I went to our local poll just after 7, just a few blocks from our house at the Heritage School. The line snaked out in to the parking lot a ways. After half an hour, I got into the building, chaos reigned. There were at least four different lines, all of them mixing up with each other. After filling out a form, I got in the line I thought went to the registration desk. That line went back out into the hall and back in. I waited in that line for another half an hour. Stacey showed up as I was back in the hallway, and got in the first line.

Once I made it in, and Stacey had gotten to the form filling out station, I looked up from my book to discover that the line I was in was the line to vote, not to register. During my time back in the hallway, someone had untangled the lines to my disadvantage. So I got into the line to register, registered, and then waited with Stacey back in the voting line, again.

We were done about 8:30.

A small price to pay for excercising my right to vote, but still, I think that Clariten-D hinders judgement., ,