can i tell you what's been on my mind
May. 19th, 2024 02:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
the_siobhan
Sent sister an article with a bunch of study links. Her response, "I understand why you have made the decision to continue masking. I have made a different decision."
Well. OK then.
It will probably be fine, right? Statistically most people who don't take any precautions don't experience any negative consequences, right?
I am not going to worry about this. I am going to continue to protect myself because I already know the universe hates me, and I am going to keep my fingers crossed for the olds, and it should be fine.
(I am totally going to worry about this.)
***
It's been a while since I had a stress-cry, but boy howdy, I had one yesterday.
Factor One: Sorting out my banking was on schedule for when I was on vacation, but since I spent two days searching for my fucking cat, I didn't get to it. "It'll be fine," says I, "The accounts will all be moved in two more months anyway, surely it can wait that long."
Bad call, past self. The bank took a couple of grand out of the mortgage account on Friday. And then housemate pulled another half-K out. (They do this sometimes. They have some kind of automatic deduction that happens and if there is no money in their main account it will pull it out of whatever account has available funds. Usually they put it back. Eventually.)
Incidentally, this is why I usually don't do the higher risk thing. Because it will come back to bite me in the ass. I messed up this time.
Factor Two: Old Man's Hospital To Home Program is a fucking clusterfuck. Because it has different funding than the Home & Community Care he was getting prior to his hospitalization, the PSWs are from a different agency. His previous PSWs worked onsite with multiple clients so they could pop in and out several times a day. They were trained on the Hoyer lift. He was comfortable with them. They new ones come from outside and are supposed to visit three times a day. In theory he also has a daily nurse visit? I'm not even sure because I don't have a schedule, even though I've asked for one a few times now. He's been an extra two weeks in bed because there is an Occupational Therapist who is suppose to approve him for getting him into his wheelchair and that hasn't happened yet. The social worker wants me to be there for his assessment, but can't tell me when it will be. "Oh he can just call you when he gets here and you can come over, right?" Dude, I have a fucking job and it takes anywhere from an hour to to three hours to get across town, so no?
And then Friday somebody put him in his wheelchair before I arrived. He was delighted. We went for a walk. He was looking forward to eating in the dining room with his friends. It was only after I left I started getting frantic calls from the PSW, because there is nobody to take him out of his chair. I made close to a dozen phone calls back and forth between the PSW, the program coordinator and the residence manager. The coordinator kept asking me who put him in the chair. Well I don't fucking know do I, because I still don't have the fucking schedule I asked you for. Why don't you know?
They finally got him sorted, but this is bullshit. If they don't get him out of that bed next week I will be raising holy hell, because it's already been cooped up his room too long.
Factor Three: Tree plan was sorted. The guy who cut down the old tree had offered to put in the new one, so he's supposed to be coming on Thursday with a sapling. I specifically told housemate, Do Not Make Plans this weekend, we are going to clear out the backyard of rubble on Saturday and Monday because it's a long weekend so I have an extra day off work. Gave them a list of things to locate and/or pick up from the hardware store before Saturday. Told them to reach out to the arborist and see if he could swing by for five minutes in advance of the work so we know where is the best spot for the tree to go.
Got home Friday night, housemate is not here.
Got up Saturday morning, housemate is still not here.
"Where the fuck are you?" texts I.
Partner needed them, so off they fucked.
Oh, but it was an emergency! They can't tell me what the emergency is because partner has asked them not to. I don't care what the fucking emergency is asshole, the emergency is not the problem. The problem is that they left this until the last minute again, left the work of organizing the time to get it done up to me again, and then bailed on me at the last minute without a fucking word of notice. Again.
Whatever. Today I am going to have a productive day of doing odd jobs that have been sitting around waiting for me to have time to deal with them. I will have a glass of wine on the porch tonight. Maybe do some writing. They said they will be home tonight so we will deal with it tomorrow. The stores are all closed tomorrow so if we don't finish because we don't have the stuff we need then they will be stuck finishing it all without me and that's their problem. I'll roust them off the couch with a spray bottle and lock them outside if I have to.
Factor Four: Pretty sure Dr River Song has been pissing somewhere hidden on the main floor because the smell is awful and housemate claims they've been cleaning the catbox. I have mentioned this escalation of biological warfare several times. Based on the atmosphere, housemate has done nothing.
Some time early yesterday morning, in order to register her displeasure with being left alone for the third weekend in a row, the good Doctor shit all over the floor.
37 more days.
Well. OK then.
It will probably be fine, right? Statistically most people who don't take any precautions don't experience any negative consequences, right?
I am not going to worry about this. I am going to continue to protect myself because I already know the universe hates me, and I am going to keep my fingers crossed for the olds, and it should be fine.
(I am totally going to worry about this.)
***
It's been a while since I had a stress-cry, but boy howdy, I had one yesterday.
Factor One: Sorting out my banking was on schedule for when I was on vacation, but since I spent two days searching for my fucking cat, I didn't get to it. "It'll be fine," says I, "The accounts will all be moved in two more months anyway, surely it can wait that long."
Bad call, past self. The bank took a couple of grand out of the mortgage account on Friday. And then housemate pulled another half-K out. (They do this sometimes. They have some kind of automatic deduction that happens and if there is no money in their main account it will pull it out of whatever account has available funds. Usually they put it back. Eventually.)
Incidentally, this is why I usually don't do the higher risk thing. Because it will come back to bite me in the ass. I messed up this time.
Factor Two: Old Man's Hospital To Home Program is a fucking clusterfuck. Because it has different funding than the Home & Community Care he was getting prior to his hospitalization, the PSWs are from a different agency. His previous PSWs worked onsite with multiple clients so they could pop in and out several times a day. They were trained on the Hoyer lift. He was comfortable with them. They new ones come from outside and are supposed to visit three times a day. In theory he also has a daily nurse visit? I'm not even sure because I don't have a schedule, even though I've asked for one a few times now. He's been an extra two weeks in bed because there is an Occupational Therapist who is suppose to approve him for getting him into his wheelchair and that hasn't happened yet. The social worker wants me to be there for his assessment, but can't tell me when it will be. "Oh he can just call you when he gets here and you can come over, right?" Dude, I have a fucking job and it takes anywhere from an hour to to three hours to get across town, so no?
And then Friday somebody put him in his wheelchair before I arrived. He was delighted. We went for a walk. He was looking forward to eating in the dining room with his friends. It was only after I left I started getting frantic calls from the PSW, because there is nobody to take him out of his chair. I made close to a dozen phone calls back and forth between the PSW, the program coordinator and the residence manager. The coordinator kept asking me who put him in the chair. Well I don't fucking know do I, because I still don't have the fucking schedule I asked you for. Why don't you know?
They finally got him sorted, but this is bullshit. If they don't get him out of that bed next week I will be raising holy hell, because it's already been cooped up his room too long.
Factor Three: Tree plan was sorted. The guy who cut down the old tree had offered to put in the new one, so he's supposed to be coming on Thursday with a sapling. I specifically told housemate, Do Not Make Plans this weekend, we are going to clear out the backyard of rubble on Saturday and Monday because it's a long weekend so I have an extra day off work. Gave them a list of things to locate and/or pick up from the hardware store before Saturday. Told them to reach out to the arborist and see if he could swing by for five minutes in advance of the work so we know where is the best spot for the tree to go.
Got home Friday night, housemate is not here.
Got up Saturday morning, housemate is still not here.
"Where the fuck are you?" texts I.
Partner needed them, so off they fucked.
Oh, but it was an emergency! They can't tell me what the emergency is because partner has asked them not to. I don't care what the fucking emergency is asshole, the emergency is not the problem. The problem is that they left this until the last minute again, left the work of organizing the time to get it done up to me again, and then bailed on me at the last minute without a fucking word of notice. Again.
Whatever. Today I am going to have a productive day of doing odd jobs that have been sitting around waiting for me to have time to deal with them. I will have a glass of wine on the porch tonight. Maybe do some writing. They said they will be home tonight so we will deal with it tomorrow. The stores are all closed tomorrow so if we don't finish because we don't have the stuff we need then they will be stuck finishing it all without me and that's their problem. I'll roust them off the couch with a spray bottle and lock them outside if I have to.
Factor Four: Pretty sure Dr River Song has been pissing somewhere hidden on the main floor because the smell is awful and housemate claims they've been cleaning the catbox. I have mentioned this escalation of biological warfare several times. Based on the atmosphere, housemate has done nothing.
Some time early yesterday morning, in order to register her displeasure with being left alone for the third weekend in a row, the good Doctor shit all over the floor.
37 more days.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-19 08:14 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-19 09:36 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-21 03:26 pm (UTC)Sorry, I had to. This goes through my mind at times like these.
(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-19 09:25 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-19 09:46 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-20 03:03 am (UTC)(Icon dedicated to all the inconsiderate people in your life right now.)
(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-20 10:28 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-20 12:48 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-20 02:45 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-20 04:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-21 12:16 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-21 10:18 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2024-05-21 06:28 pm (UTC)I once tried to date someone who managed to have an "emergency" every time we were scheduled to do something. (Though I don't suppose even she had the nerve to claim it was a secret). I've thus grown very skeptical of convenient emergencies - especially secret ones - that just so happen to get one out of prior commitments.
Best of luck with it all!