An Unusually Tall Ghost

It's almost November already? I really have no idea how that happened. I've been so...filled with a sense of malaise this month. Work was always, ahem, what it was, but this month it's been so very hard just to make it all the way through the day. Nights aren't much better. I started trying to exercise again this week, but otherwise I've been mostly watching TV.

It doesn't help that it's HALLOWEEN month, which means that all the really awesome scary movies are on TV. I love it. I can't get enough. I watched Hellraiser for the first time. It was not a good movie. So of course I watched Hellraiser 2. It was even worse. So of course I watched yet another one...don't remember the title, but based on the plot it was something like Hellraiser: Lost in Space! That one I actually had to seek out specially on On Demand.

I think there's something really really wrong with me.

A local columnist had an article in the paper recently about teen trick-or-treaters. That hit close to home for me. 'Cuz I wish I were a teen trick-or-treater. Of course, I WAS a teen trick-or-treater, as long as I could manage it. I believe I was 15 the last time I went. I would create elaborate costumes (oh, fine, elaborate costume, since I was nuts about Anne Rice and so really all I ever wanted to be was an 18th century vampire) and run around the neighborhood with my similarly stunted friends for hours until all the porch lights were turned off.

I don't get the hostility to my latter-day counterparts. Let the poor sad souls have their fun! All too soon they will be forced to grow up and be shackled to a desk until they're actually HAPPY when they develop serious illnesses and have no choice but to seek solace and joy in the installation of slate flooring. I know, I know, it's not too cute when they don't even bother to dress up...but come on! That sweet surly span of late childhood is all too fleeting. Let us heap upon them tiny treats, lest they too soon awaken to the cold harsh reality of a world in which candy ain't free and your best costume is your courtroom attire.

Meanwhile...I have TOTALLY been thinking about going trick-or-treating. Yes, now. It could go down like this: a nice mask, maybe a ghostly sheet, and the world need never know my shameful shameful secret. I tried to convince my dad to come with me to provide parental supervision so as to complete the disguise, but for some reason he refused.

Nurse Ratched

My niece has become deeply, intensely concerned about everyone's wellbeing. She is forever asking us if we're okay – although it comes out more like, "You 'kay?" A couple of weeks ago, in the middle of a family dinner, she insisted on being taken out of her high chair. She then demanded that we pass her from one person to another, all the way around the table. She'd ask each person, "You 'kay?" and when they said, "Yes," she'd smile, pat them on the head three times, and give them a big hug, and then point to the next person she wanted to be handed to.

When she got to me, I told her, "No." 'Cuz I didn't feel 'kay, and because I'm evil to tiny children. She frowned at me severely, and then began repeating over and over, "You 'kay? You 'kay? You 'kay?" It became less like a question and more like a command. I finally told her I was, indeed, 'kay, and then I got my pat on the head.

:-O ^ 2

It seems I was premature in reporting the cost of my, all things considered, fairly insignificant ailment. The bills have continued to mount. Today, the total is, in fact, double the previously reported amount. As in, "Gee, should I have an appendectomy, or should I buy a Bentley?"

Gosh. I mean, the being alive is nice and all, but I think I'm pretty strong and could have survived regardless. And my car keeps breaking down....

I totally promise no more appendix posts. After all, I have lots going on besides that. Like...um...today I went to a store completely dedicated to Halloween paraphernalia. I didn't buy a thing. It was way over the top. I thought I liked over the top, but somehow, the thought of placing a realistic replica of a disemboweled human on my front lawn doesn't quite appeal to me. Instead I bought a fake pumpkin from Wal-Mart. It cost $1. I think that's awesome.

Oh, Bloody 'Ell

Now they tell me.

:-O

So, I decided to look up my health insurer's website to see if they've received the bill for my surgery and hospital stay yet.

They have.

It cost $31,000.

I had a panicked and terrified moment before I called my dad and he calmed me down. Right now it says "processing claim," so it's not clear how much I'll have to pay, but he assured me that I only have to pay my deductible amount. (I didn't know about these things, having, y'know, not been sick before.)

'Cuz otherwise? Geeeeez. It'd be a lot cheaper to plan a funeral.

Swag

One of the best things about being sick (besides the week off work – did I mention that I got a week off work?) has been all the fabulous prizes I've won.

People are really, really nice when you get sick. I don't know if it would have occurred to me to be so thoughtful for something "minor" like an appendectomy (that is, it's minor if it happens to someone else, but TOTALLY LIFE-CHANGING HORRIBLE SHOCKING OMIGOD THE TRAAAAGEDY when it happens to me). But now that I know how great and special it made me feel, I will definitely bring on the goods.

Even the hospital sent me off with wonderful parting gifts. True, said gifts consisted of such things as little molded plastic basins that, though never used, are doubtful to be welcomed in my home as an alternative fruit basket. I was still thrilled to take them.

(At right, a lovely bouquet from C and K.)

If I Lived in 1492, I'd Be Dead

Alternate title: "I Didn't Go to Work This Week"

I decided it would be more fun to get appendicitis and have emergency surgery.

And I've gotta say...whoo boy, it totally was. I highly, highly recommend the appendicitis. It is the most exquisite illness in the world. Serious enough to get yourself a nice, long, guilt-free vacation from work; not so serious that your life is really in any appreciable danger.

It was all a very weird experience. I've never really been sick in my life – I usually don't even get colds (something I chalk up to my OCD-inspired hand washing, but hey, whatever works). Lately, though, I think I've just been working so hard and getting so little sleep that it's like my immune system just suddenly crumbled. I had the plague (well, okay, a bad cold), and then immediately after that I had this. I think my body just finally demanded a nice little break.

So, this was my first time in the hospital. I may not have mentioned it before, but I have doctor phobia. As a result, it took a lot before I finally worked up the courage to go to the ER. After all that, though, I think my phobia may be cured. I really loved the hospital. I mean, it was the most fabulous resort experience I've had in a while.

I'm all set to go on many many more visits to doctors. I believe, in fact, that I shall develop hypochondria, since this has all been so enjoyable. Doctors were great, hospital was great, pain medication was great (lest you think otherwise, I should point out that, in the interest of preserving my supply of hard-earned painkillers as long as possible, I have not taken any today). And week off work – beautiful!

I will probably go back to work next week, though maybe not Monday...will have to see how I feel.

The only downside is that this means the unfortunate demise of my 15th century counterpart. Am I the only one who plays that game? Basically, the question is, "Would I still be alive in a time before modern medicine?" No fair considering probable realities like death from a now-inoculable disease like scarlet fever or dying in childbirth at 15 or being trampled to death by a jousting-enraged horse. It has to be based purely on what happens to you today.

I think I had a pretty good run, but alas, surely the appendicitis would have done me in. R.I.P., medieval me.

How to Save a Screen

I have a new laptop. It's very pretty and fun. Vista and new Word kind of suck, but I'm probably just grumpy because they're so different that I'm having trouble getting used to them.

One thing that's driving me crazy is that I just cannot figure out how to get the screen saver to work. I have it set to run, I've checked all the power settings to ensure it hasn't somehow been disabled that way....but no screen saver. Any tips? Is there something weird about screen savers in Vista that I'm not getting?

Blast from the Past

I have the plague and am too pooped to post, hence another one of these.

The explanation.

~~~~

A Million Little Pieces
Originally posted Oct. 12, 2006

Hi. My name is _____, and I'm a recovering addict.

I've been clean for five months. I thought for sure I'd never go back, but then this week I cracked and gave in to the urge that haunts my every waking moment.

------

Like so many other things, I blame it all on law school. Law school is where I got hooked on the stuff, actually.

They first offered it to me during orientation, before I'd attended a single class. "First one's free," they cajoled. "Everyone loves it." I demurred. I was too smart for them, too wise to their ways to be drawn in.

But law school is hard, especially the first year. A few weeks in, you're so desperate for an escape, something to take your mind away from the pain.

When they offered it to me again, I accepted.

------

I'm talking, of course, about legal research points. Oh, the sweet shameful delight of legal research points! Westlaw! Lexis! Each one better than the other! Gorgeous beautiful shiny pretty points you can use to get stuff! For free! FREE STUFF!!!

My addiction started out as nothing more than an infrequent diversion. Oh, sure, I'd click on the sites, every now and then. It was nice to watch the points rack up.

But then I started using the points to get the free stuff. Ohhhh, it was gooooooood, so very very good.

Next thing I knew, the points had consumed my life. Had I logged in that day? Must log in every day! I was a legally inclined Cinderella, dreading the midnight hour that marked the end of each day's point-earning opportunity.

And then I hit rock bottom. Online tutorials. Certification classes. Super Bowl quizzes. There was no limit to the depraved depths I would go to get my high, no debasement too degrading. I was a slave to my addiction, to the custom bikes and rollerblades and designer purses that teetered precariously in an ever-growing pile of ill-gotten goods.

It would have gone on forever, but then, just like that, they cut me off cold-turkey.

Slowly, surely, I began to live again. I stopped jerking awake each night from dreams that I had forgotten to earn my daily points. I began to forget the rush I felt when the doorbell would ring and I would receive the coveted box of point-purchased prizes, began to forget the musty-redolent bouquet that wafted up from the cardboard and made my mouth water.

------

And then, then, those bastards had to go and start the "rewards" program for associates. A jolt ran through my body when they told me, and I experienced something like dread that quickly morphed into a piercing craving so sweet it made my teeth hurt.

I took the glossy brochure that contained my 1000 introductory bonus points, trying to project a nonchalant demeanor, though inside I was hooting with joy.

I exited at a walk, but as soon as I was out of sight I broke into a sprint, urged on by my lust for the impending ecstasy.

I logged on to the site with shaking hands. It was at once foreign and yet so familiar, a homecoming long awaited but never expected.

And then...there! My 1000 points! Oooooh, the gooey orgasmic BLISS of it all! Maybe I'd get the Kate Spade purse this time, or maybe a giant grill, or maybe the diamond necklace, or... My mind raced with the possibilities, a whole universe of possibilities ripe for the taking just when I thought the door was closed to me forever!

------

And that's how they get you, my friends. Because they got me, oh yes, they got me.

I can only get more points by performing 10 searches per week. Ten searches billed to clients for a weekly total of anywhere between $70 to $1000, ten searches that will never, ever happen because I never, ever research.

Fuckers.

And It Only Took Me a Decade

I finally finished reading The Canterbury Tales, purchased for high school English IV. My cheap paperback copy is yellowed with age; it looks like it actually is from the Middle Ages. It feels like I have been reading it since the Middle Ages.

It's kind of a relief. That book has followed me for years, taunting me, demanding to be read, tormenting me everywhere I went. It accompanied me from my parents' house to my first apartment...and to the second apartment I moved into three weeks later when it turned out the first apartment was a crime-ridden, death-courting cesspool...and then back to my parents' house...and then to the next apartment...and then back to my parents' house...and finally to my current house. My parents thought they would never be rid of me; I thought I would never be rid of that accursed book. It was a millstone around my neck. Inescapable. Omnipresent.

It haunted my dreams.

Ironically, I actually finished it in my parents' house. Perhaps the book wished for its journey to end where it first began. Though in truth, I never actually had read beyond the first couple of pages, until I read it all at once. I know it's a great work of literature and all...it's just...it's, um, boring.

As for my English class, I'm still trying to figure out what the purpose of that was. We focused for weeks and maybe even months on the prologue, analyzing every word and every nuance and researching all the great contextual meaning that is hidden to us but supposedly would have been so clear to a reader of its time. At some point, I figure, a book has lost all its value except as a historical artifact if you can't appreciate even a quarter of its content it without extensive research. After all of that, I guess I knew all about how utterly scandalous the Prioress was. But gosh, since we never got beyond the prologue, there was still an entire book that I knew nothing about.

And now I do.

Eh. I could have done without it. At least it's finally done and gone.

So I've started a new book. Uncle Tom's Cabin. It bears a sticker indicating that it was purchased from a small family-owned bookstore...that was run out of business by the big boxes, oh, sometime around 1996.

Thus continues my tour o' literature a la death march....