Do you suppose it’s ironic that my tidying up book is just a wreck? I imagine Marie Kondo would be all, Get a coaster, bitchy-san. I think “san” is “Mr.” in Japanese, so that whole thing made so sense.
Anyway, hi. I’ve been up for awhile on This, My Week Off, mostly wrangling cats.
This one has been simpering at the back door, hoping I let him out and I don’t want to.
So I distracted him with his toy mices. Mices is a highly acceptable word in your loftier circles. Your loftier cat-toy-discussion circles.
But let’s talk instead about my dangerous Monday. My dangerous Lidaysons. That is a perfectly acceptable word in your loftier circles.
As you know, from your Big Book of June Events and also yesterday’s post, I had to get up and dash out of the house early, on That, the first day of My Week Off, and head to the dermatologist for my annual scan-me-for-cansa. When I moved to TinyTown, that’s how they pronounced it: cansa.
I made it there right on time and noted I was in the same parking lot where I get my Latisse/Botox, and was highly tempted to waltz in there, not literally, ask get me some Latisse. But Latisse is $109 a bottle and I just bought everyone’s Christmas presents so it was exactly like Gift of the Magi which I don’t have to tell YOU was written by a Greensboro author now we are full circle lift baby lion boom.
[Brought to you by the Committee to Boycott June if She Makes the Baby Lion Joke One More Fekking Time]
Now, since this pesky hoax of a pandemic began, I’ve been to the doctor twice. Once to get up to date on my I-don’t-have-a-spleen boosters (seemed like a good time to be, oh, immunized against pneumonia, for example) and also to see the headache doctor, which in case anyone is keeping track at home, I have been plagued with more migraines and I am annoyed.
These are two separate doctors, obviously. Had I had Siamese twin doctors where one side was my migraine doctor and one was my general practitioner, I might have led with that.
In the case of my general practitioner, she made me get tested for COVID before I could come in at all. Once my test was fine, I was allowed to come back for m’shots. I was the ONLY patient allowed in to the whole shebang, there was no one at the front desk, and I was whisked (not literally) to a room for my booster and sent home quickly.
In the case of my headache doctor, I had to answer do-you-have-COVID Qs, no one was allowed to come with me, no one else was in the lobby, and there was a glass thing between the receptionist and me.
So I assumed my dermatologist would be similarly COVIDed up.
Oh my god, no.
I mean, they did take my temperature when I walked in. When I walked in TO THE CROWDED WAITING ROOM. I was stunned. I didn’t even know crowded waiting rooms were legal anymore.
I mean, it wasn’t crowded, like, you could barely find a place to sit crowded. But there were easily five or six of us just sitting there. There was also no glass or plastic to anything between me and the beleaguered receptionist.
I waited maybe 10 minutes, stunned, and was just about to get up and tell them I’d be outside and call me when it’s my turn when, in fact, they called me.
I was ushered into a room right away, which was good, but once the doctor came in I had to remove my mask for her to check my face for the skin cancer.
When I was done, she gave me a card and told me to present it to the checkout person.
THERE WAS A LINE to do so, so I left.
OH MY GOD.
For a doctor’s office, it seemed startlingly cavalier.
I had a hair appointment today and also my barf shots at the headache clinic, but I called and rescheduled both for two weeks out, telling both places why.
Both of the people I talked to thanked me profusely for rescheduling.
Also, later in the day, the headache place was clearly not communicating well with each other—which as we all know is the backbone of any good oh fek it—because I got a call from someone in a back room there, who said she knew I was coming in for those shots and she wanted to warn me they are
SEVEN HUNDRED DOLLARS
with insurance, and also did I know I had to keep RE-getting them every three to four weeks. Eventually I’d meet my deductible and before you stampede for the keyboard my deductible restarts in July.
I mean, are these really gonna work? They better really work. I’m already scared to get them and now they cost four hundred million dollars?? AND they make me barfy? Did I mention they better work??
So anyway that’s my latest. My lawn guy is here and I also feel like such a lady of the manor sitting in here while he weeds and mows and really what I am paying him for is to look at snakes so I don’t have to.
I really like my lawn guy and I’d like to point out that his English is a hell of a lot better than my Spanish. However, I was charmed today when he texted, “Miss June, do you want me to moe and blow the leaves, or just moe?”
…I just Googled Moe, with the intention of showing Moe from The Three Stooges, but what I got instead was a lot of Moe from The Simpsons. People’s current references are stupid.
Anyway I just looked out and waved at my lawn guy because I feel guilty now. He’s really just a lovely person.
I’ll pen you tomorrow as I wait for symptoms. You got anything to stop this coffin?