Just give me what I frigging ordered. Is that so hard?
Ordered my groceries today, as usual. And as usual, they got something wrong.
I ordered a 12 pack or “fridge buddy” of cans of Diet Pepsi Lime and instead got an 8 pack of fully sugared Sprite.
Put in a complaint. Got an instant refund. Which was good.
Not as good as actually getting what I fucking ordered but I am still mollified.
Mostly. It stresses me out that this kind of thing keeps happening. I look for where to specify substitutions on the DoorDash website and can’t find it, and yet, sometimes when I make one of these complaints, I end up there by accident.
Well it’s too late NOW, god damn it.
I feel bad for poor Julian, who is always there when I find out that they fucked up AGAIN and thus ends up absorbing some side-wrath.
I mean, I am clearly not mad at HIM but it can still be stressful to be around that kind of thing. I know that from when my late father would get pissed of when he’s driving.
He’s clearly not mad at me but I was still cowering.
So sorry, Julian. I love you and cherish you and you help me so much. Sorry that I can be a little scary and a bit much at times.
It’s a good thing I’m cute.
Did not make it there
So um… still have not been to the ER or Urgent Care.
And I can feel my resolved to go wavering and melting away as I get further and further away from my symptoms.
See, I feel reasonably good now. And I have not had any poop related incidents lately. So I am very tempted to say, “Guess it was something I ate, or some kind of bug” and just write it off as bad mojo and move on with my life.
And I know this is not what I should do. I should be getting my errant lower intestines to a medical professional tonto. They have been very unhappy lately and they have been acting out and I should really find out why.
But unless further badness occurs, I seriously doubt I will end up going.
Le sigh. It’s not easy being my caretaker, even when said caretaker is also me.
It all started this morning, when I woke up with all those flu-like symptoms that I get from time to time – scratchy sore throat and lungs, headache, mild nausea, feverish feeling – and had to ponder whether to go to Wound Care or not.
I decided against it. I didn’t want to skip it but I want to infect other sick people even less, especially given how the average age of my fellow Wound Care patients is dead.
And without my going to Wound Care, my plan of going to the ER/UC after Wound Care fell apart, and here we are.
I really, really don’t want to go to the ER or UC. Especially not with my tablet on the fritz. I just know I would be waiting for hours and hours, bored out of my mind.
Which remind me : got to get to an optometrist soon. Been trying to read a paperback book and it’s rough going with how weak my eyesight has become.
And unlike on the computer, I can’t just make the text on the pages bigger in a book.
This is how large print books happen, I guess. But I want to at least try stronger glasses to see if that will work.
Better than having to re-purchase my entire book collection in large print. Or having to read with a big Sherlock Holmes magnifying glass :
Plus : I can read now.
Minus : I keep accidentally setting my books on fire.
More after the break.
Not very smart
Bright as hell. But not smart per se.
Because the true test of intelligence is the quality of one’s decisions and mine have a tendency to be terrible.
And I don’t think that is going to change any time soon. In order to make better decisions I would have to grow enough of a backbone to be able to be firm in the pursuit of my own self-interest, and that’s a pretty tall order for me as it is right now.
Like I’ve said before (or have I?), I have a lot of trouble making decisions. So what tends to happen is that I vacillate on the issue until the deadline looms close enough to goose my lazy id into making a rash, impulsive, and purely emotional decision.
And honestly, I think I need to learn to accept that. Despite my icy intellectualism, I am never going to be the product of coldly calculated logical moves towards a central aim with clear victory conditions.
I’m always going to kind of half-ass my way through life and so the best course of action is to try to get good at it.
This is entirely doable. Instinctive, emotional, gut-level decisions are not random. They come from a deeply intuitive part of us and our intuition can become more intelligent if we give it a chance to learn by listening to it.
This is the sort of the thing that the bulletheads and jocks and gym teachers have been trying to teach us nerds for generations but they can’t articulate it.
But lately I have been thinking a lot about the non-intellectual side of things. Clearly, a mind like mine is not required to live a safe and happy life.
If anything, the opposite seems to be true.
So these people of normal intellect must “know” things that I don’t. They fundamentally understand things which are as opaque to me as my thoughts are to them. What are crippling issues to me never even come up in their lives.
And I want to be more like that. Not to the point of being mundane – that’s impossible. But to the point of being functional.
That’s not too much to ask, is it?
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.