Hah. Martha Stewart, eat your heart out.
Dec. 17th, 2003 09:55 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
home_and_awayAQUARIUS:No one can blame you if your mind isn't on the job. Life is too good to bother with the same old thing. It's the season of cheer and wonder, and unless you're involved with holiday retail, nobody really cares if your productivity slips a little. What you want them to care about is what's actually on your mind. You have the solution to everything if only someone would step forward and ask you for it. But if not, oh well. That just means there's more for you. Naturally, your loved ones will get their fair share of whatever your current wealth might be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(quick sidebar, then on to the morning's stories: ever tried to read the morning news through a cat-hair-shrouded computer screen? Suddenly makes everything so much less serious...~wipes down screen, shakes head, smiles~)
So Monday morning, I woke at 02:00 with an earache that wouldn't quit. Hurt to even *think* about my outer ear, not to mention the canal and all the internal workings. Having been here before, I knew two things:
1) Hello otitis media. You suck, because...
2) Nothing kills this bugger except antibiotics.
No great worries: as long as I'm pregnant, TennCare (bless you) will pay for anything I need, medically. Plan of attack: call ye olde Primary Care Provider in the decent hours and schedule an appointment so he can give me drugs. In the meantime, attempt to sleep.
By 09:00, when all of Pulaski rolls out its sidewalks again, I had gained a vivid sensory map of my eustachian tubes, from throat to middle ear...and a deepseated hatred for busy signals. So I went to work; ear infections, though bitchy, aren't immediately fatal to anything, and I had a client at 10:00.
It's just after 1:00 that afternoon when I finally get in touch with my PCP's office... The conversation progressed as follows:
Me: Hi, my name's Jessica, and I have TennCare. They tell me Dr. (insert Doc's name here) is my PCP. I haven't seen him before, but I'm pretty sure I have an ear infection. Is there any way you can work me in in the next 48 hours?
Secretary-human: Let me check... okay today's no-go... and he's not taking any new patients till the new year... and tomorrow's the last day he's in the office till the new year... and tomorrow's booked up. Sorry.
Me: ~blinks, exhales~ Okay... Would you have any suggestion how I can take care of this infection before 2004?
Her: Well, you can go to the ER, or you can call TennCare and get them to switch your PCP to someone who can see you sooner.
Me: ...~blinks, weighs options~... Thank you for your help, then.
Her: Mm. ~click~
So. I can either submit myself to an ER doc (not likely: the last time I went to an ER, the schlep told me I had PID...it turned out to be a mild case of food poisoning.), or I can kiss my hearing goodbye while I wait for insurance-bureaucracy to process me round to another guy who won't be in the office till 2004.
~snort~ Right. Welcome to the USA.
So I called my OB. He's a decent human who knows me and knows that I wouldn't ask for drugs if I could deal with my problem any other way. He also knows that if I say "I have an ear infection," I know what I'm talking about. Conversation as follows:
Me: Hi, my name is Jessica. I'm a patient of yours, and I have an ear infection. My assigned PCP just told me there's no way he can help me before 2004. Can *you* help me?
OB's Secretary-human: You're kidding. 2004? Who's your pharmacy?
Me: (insert pharmacy name)
Her: And your home number?
Me: (insert number)
Her: Good. Let me talk to the doctor, and we'll see what we can do.
Me: God bless you.
~click~
By the time I got home that night, they'd ordered me an antibiotic; all I had to do was pick the blessed thing up and start the dose. What's more, it isn't even an antibiotic related to penicillin, which means it and my system might just peacefully co-exist!
Tuesday passed in a blissful ache-and-side-effect-free haze. However, winter winds brought me to the conclusion that a scarf was in order. Preferably long, roughly a quarter-yard wide, fleecy, and simple. Should be easy enough to find, yes? Wal-Mart will surely have such an animal, and for less than $10. Yes?
~snort~ No. We have fleecy headbands three inches wide with little snowflakes embroidered on, we have knit and crocheted "scarves" two inches wide by six feet long, we have skimpy, skimpy shawls, and we have Sock Hats.
None of which are a solid colour, but striped, in shades of Lime and Fuschia and Electric Blue and Tangerine.... and some of the sock hats have ears...or tassles.
~raises eyebrow~ Call me vain: I refuse to feel like a rat terrier in a halloween costume. What I want is simple and effective. I refuse to pay for something that doesn't meet those two criteriae.
On our way out of the store, Adam and I passed a lady wearing the style of scarf for which I was hunting. Granted, it too was in stripes of citrus-y hue, but it *was* wide and solid enough to do the job. Adam, realising that trying to sell me on sock hats was futile, laughed and suggested I ask her where she found hers.
Answer: The Gap.
The bloody Gap.
1) The nearest Gap is about 40 miles away. That's four gallons of gas, round trip...at $1.44 per gallon, that's almost more than I wanted to spend on the scarf itself, let alone the trip to get there.
2) I dislike shopping at the Gap, mainly because (with the exception of the $1 flip-flops Adam found last October) I have yet to find clothing of better quality there than can be found at Wal-Mart, despite the astronomical prices. If I'm going to pay $35 for a button-up shirt, it will be a damn good button-up shirt: Sturdy-yet-sleek fabric, durable stitching, classic styling, and wide enough to accomodate my lovely Germanic shoulders without making me look like a linebacker. And I will only pay $35 for this if I cannot find it for less anywhere else.
So this morning, after dropping Adam off at work, I went back to ye olde Mal-Wart and headed straight for the fabric department.
$2.96 (tax included) will buy you a yard of good medium-weight double-sided non-ravelling fleece. That's a chunk of fabric three feet long...by about four feet wide. Quarter that, and you have four, count 'em, four strips of fleece, each 1/4-yard wide, and four feet long....And what's more, the fleece comes in an array of good, classic, solid colours that will co-ordinate with damn near anything in any sane human's closet.
Four lovely, simple scarves for less than three dollars, and all you have to do is cut the fleece... or! ask the person who's cutting your yard to quarter it, while she's at it. Feel a bit unfinished? For another $3-$5, you can buy a spool of ribbon in the colour of your choice and a pack of needles, and whipstich round the edges of your new scarf; it'll take about an hour, max. Or if you have more time than money, a skein of embroidery floss ($.28-$.50) and a pack of needles + a bit of creativity = your *own* little snowflakes embroidered on. Or if you're completely strapped, but you have a knife or pair of scissors, clip the short edges into fringe and tie knots! This stuff doesn't ravel--go nuts!
So. I'm finally satisfied. I have drugs. I have scarves. I have a client this afternoon! But greater than these is the feeling of accomplishment that comes from beating The Man at his own game. ... ... ... okay, maybe it's not greater than the drugs, but still!
Happy holidays, everybody.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(quick sidebar, then on to the morning's stories: ever tried to read the morning news through a cat-hair-shrouded computer screen? Suddenly makes everything so much less serious...~wipes down screen, shakes head, smiles~)
So Monday morning, I woke at 02:00 with an earache that wouldn't quit. Hurt to even *think* about my outer ear, not to mention the canal and all the internal workings. Having been here before, I knew two things:
1) Hello otitis media. You suck, because...
2) Nothing kills this bugger except antibiotics.
No great worries: as long as I'm pregnant, TennCare (bless you) will pay for anything I need, medically. Plan of attack: call ye olde Primary Care Provider in the decent hours and schedule an appointment so he can give me drugs. In the meantime, attempt to sleep.
By 09:00, when all of Pulaski rolls out its sidewalks again, I had gained a vivid sensory map of my eustachian tubes, from throat to middle ear...and a deepseated hatred for busy signals. So I went to work; ear infections, though bitchy, aren't immediately fatal to anything, and I had a client at 10:00.
It's just after 1:00 that afternoon when I finally get in touch with my PCP's office... The conversation progressed as follows:
Me: Hi, my name's Jessica, and I have TennCare. They tell me Dr. (insert Doc's name here) is my PCP. I haven't seen him before, but I'm pretty sure I have an ear infection. Is there any way you can work me in in the next 48 hours?
Secretary-human: Let me check... okay today's no-go... and he's not taking any new patients till the new year... and tomorrow's the last day he's in the office till the new year... and tomorrow's booked up. Sorry.
Me: ~blinks, exhales~ Okay... Would you have any suggestion how I can take care of this infection before 2004?
Her: Well, you can go to the ER, or you can call TennCare and get them to switch your PCP to someone who can see you sooner.
Me: ...~blinks, weighs options~... Thank you for your help, then.
Her: Mm. ~click~
So. I can either submit myself to an ER doc (not likely: the last time I went to an ER, the schlep told me I had PID...it turned out to be a mild case of food poisoning.), or I can kiss my hearing goodbye while I wait for insurance-bureaucracy to process me round to another guy who won't be in the office till 2004.
~snort~ Right. Welcome to the USA.
So I called my OB. He's a decent human who knows me and knows that I wouldn't ask for drugs if I could deal with my problem any other way. He also knows that if I say "I have an ear infection," I know what I'm talking about. Conversation as follows:
Me: Hi, my name is Jessica. I'm a patient of yours, and I have an ear infection. My assigned PCP just told me there's no way he can help me before 2004. Can *you* help me?
OB's Secretary-human: You're kidding. 2004? Who's your pharmacy?
Me: (insert pharmacy name)
Her: And your home number?
Me: (insert number)
Her: Good. Let me talk to the doctor, and we'll see what we can do.
Me: God bless you.
~click~
By the time I got home that night, they'd ordered me an antibiotic; all I had to do was pick the blessed thing up and start the dose. What's more, it isn't even an antibiotic related to penicillin, which means it and my system might just peacefully co-exist!
Tuesday passed in a blissful ache-and-side-effect-free haze. However, winter winds brought me to the conclusion that a scarf was in order. Preferably long, roughly a quarter-yard wide, fleecy, and simple. Should be easy enough to find, yes? Wal-Mart will surely have such an animal, and for less than $10. Yes?
~snort~ No. We have fleecy headbands three inches wide with little snowflakes embroidered on, we have knit and crocheted "scarves" two inches wide by six feet long, we have skimpy, skimpy shawls, and we have Sock Hats.
None of which are a solid colour, but striped, in shades of Lime and Fuschia and Electric Blue and Tangerine.... and some of the sock hats have ears...or tassles.
~raises eyebrow~ Call me vain: I refuse to feel like a rat terrier in a halloween costume. What I want is simple and effective. I refuse to pay for something that doesn't meet those two criteriae.
On our way out of the store, Adam and I passed a lady wearing the style of scarf for which I was hunting. Granted, it too was in stripes of citrus-y hue, but it *was* wide and solid enough to do the job. Adam, realising that trying to sell me on sock hats was futile, laughed and suggested I ask her where she found hers.
Answer: The Gap.
The bloody Gap.
1) The nearest Gap is about 40 miles away. That's four gallons of gas, round trip...at $1.44 per gallon, that's almost more than I wanted to spend on the scarf itself, let alone the trip to get there.
2) I dislike shopping at the Gap, mainly because (with the exception of the $1 flip-flops Adam found last October) I have yet to find clothing of better quality there than can be found at Wal-Mart, despite the astronomical prices. If I'm going to pay $35 for a button-up shirt, it will be a damn good button-up shirt: Sturdy-yet-sleek fabric, durable stitching, classic styling, and wide enough to accomodate my lovely Germanic shoulders without making me look like a linebacker. And I will only pay $35 for this if I cannot find it for less anywhere else.
So this morning, after dropping Adam off at work, I went back to ye olde Mal-Wart and headed straight for the fabric department.
$2.96 (tax included) will buy you a yard of good medium-weight double-sided non-ravelling fleece. That's a chunk of fabric three feet long...by about four feet wide. Quarter that, and you have four, count 'em, four strips of fleece, each 1/4-yard wide, and four feet long....And what's more, the fleece comes in an array of good, classic, solid colours that will co-ordinate with damn near anything in any sane human's closet.
Four lovely, simple scarves for less than three dollars, and all you have to do is cut the fleece... or! ask the person who's cutting your yard to quarter it, while she's at it. Feel a bit unfinished? For another $3-$5, you can buy a spool of ribbon in the colour of your choice and a pack of needles, and whipstich round the edges of your new scarf; it'll take about an hour, max. Or if you have more time than money, a skein of embroidery floss ($.28-$.50) and a pack of needles + a bit of creativity = your *own* little snowflakes embroidered on. Or if you're completely strapped, but you have a knife or pair of scissors, clip the short edges into fringe and tie knots! This stuff doesn't ravel--go nuts!
So. I'm finally satisfied. I have drugs. I have scarves. I have a client this afternoon! But greater than these is the feeling of accomplishment that comes from beating The Man at his own game. ... ... ... okay, maybe it's not greater than the drugs, but still!
Happy holidays, everybody.
