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I went to pick up my prescription and as I dropped it off at the pharmacy counter I was told it would be 10 minutes or so.    And I was skeptical, but started the usual wander around the store.  

Once I had seen everything – not a big store – I went over to the waiting area for my second and third set of “10 minutes”.  

I played a couple games on my phone, then took out some paper to fold.  There were a couple of kids sitting there with their mom and I could tell they were getting bored and stir crazy.  I had just finished up the second crane when I got the text that my prescription was ready. 

I stopped in front of the kids and their mom and explained that I had made these cranes while I was waiting and that my prescription was ready.  I asked if they would like them and demonstrated how to make the wings flap.

These two little boys, who had been getting restless, instantly locked in.  They were fascinated and took the cranes from me with lit up eyes.   

The mom thanked me and prompted the boys to thank me as well.  I told them they were welcome and went on my way to stand in line at the counter.  I heard them talking about the birds and trying to get the wings to flap.

I smiled to myself.

I’m not a big fan of waiting, but I guess I can make it better for other people.

I had errands to run this afternoon and mostly avoided interacting with other humans.  Some days I like people, but this was not one of them. 

I had been doing pretty well as I made my way from kiosk to self-checkout – but the final test was the self-checkout at Giant Eagle. 

I approached the station and scanned my card poorly name “loyalty card”, then started taking the items out of my cart and scanning them one by one – then adding them to plastic bags in the tiny bagging area.  Not exactly rocket science. I was about halfway through when the system froze and complained that I hadn’t scanned an item.  

Inconceivable.

I tried to check to see where I had messed up, mentally recalling the swipe movement and the accompanying beep.  And then it cleared on its own.

Skeptical, I proceeded with scanning the items and when it was done I had two bags in the bagging area and my credit card in hand.

“PLEASE WAIT, HELP IS ON THE WAY”

I visibly deflated.  I didn’t need help and I didn’t want help.  But help was on the way.

The clerk came over and said, “Don’t look so dejected,”

“I thought I did everything right,” I replied and his response suggested that he would fix things, but that I clearly done Something Stupid ™. 

He scanned his badge and the system cleared to let me pay for my groceries. When I got my receipt I pulled my cart around and picked up the bags from the bagging area – intending to carry the two bags and return the cart on my way. Because I’m not a monster.

The clerk came back over and suggested that I should move my cart to the other side earlier in the process and put my filled bags in the cart instead of leaving them in the bagging area.  This was, presumably, the Something Stupid ™ that required HELP ON THE WAY.

I thanked him for the suggestion – just to get on with my life – and put the bags in the cart to leave the store.

As I was walking, though, I wondered how that would work?  I still had items in my cart to scan when I had filled the first bag so moving the cart would put the unscanned items at the wrong end of the process.  And, I always get scolded by the machine when I don’t leave my items in the bagging area.

So, I still don’t really know what I did Wrong ™, but it was Something Stupid ™. 

It’s been about a year since I got “maybe” diagnosed with gout and it came roaring back at the end of June.  It started on a Friday and I popped a pill from my prescription and hoped it wouldn’t last.  By Saturday, I was hobbling around and by Sunday I was using a cane.

I thought it was getting better, but then it started to hurt badly enough that I was losing sleep.  I had a couple of rough nights of only a couple hours sleep and nothing seemed to help.

I elevated it. I put pressure on it. I used an ice pack.  I took my prescription. Added an anti-inflammatory.  Even tried a Tylenol PM which lasted all of an hour before the pain came roaring back and woke me up.  

I was miserable. 

The oddest bit was when I tried to get comfortable. I would hurt, move a little, and it would stop hurting for a tiny moment. And then it would hurt again. I would spend hours making small movements until I was exhausted and I’d eventually fall asleep.

I hobbled around the office for a couple of days and tried to get an appointment lined up with a podiatrist that a friend had recommended. 

It slowly got better – though my foot remained red and swollen – and I took pictures of it when it was at its worst so I could show the doctor.   My appointment is in a few days and in the meantime I’ve got a stinging pain in my ankle and on my other foot it feels like I’m walking on a marble when I’m barefoot. 

I’m a mess, but I’m getting better at getting around with a cane. I guess that’s something.   I’ll update once I have my appointment and we get a better handle on what’s going on – and if I really have gout. 

Getting old is not much fun. 

Edit: Doctor’s appointment

I had my doctor’s appointment and it was kind of a waste of time. I got there early, filled out the requisite paperwork, and waited for the doctor to come into the exam room.  

I explained I was there for two things – to confirm a diagnosis of gout and to investigate an intermittent but somewhat frequent needle sharp pain in my ankle.    I showed him pictures of what my foot looked like in the middle of the maybe-gout flareup and he said that’s what it looked like.  I had also marked the exact spot on my ankle where I was getting the sharp pain and he confirmed that exact spot has a nerve that was likely getting pinched.  

He commended me on the accuracy of the mark, but things went downhill for the treatments.

The doctor wrote a prescription to get some blood work done and another one for a steroid to take just as the next flare-up happens.  If I take it soon enough, then it won’t be quite as bad.

I asked him what to do to prevent a flare-up and he suggested home remedies like cherry juice.  When I asked what to do to hurry it along when it happens he said,

“If you figure that out, let me know,”

For the sharp pain, if it was worse, then a cortisone shot would help.  But, since it’s not debilitating, he wouldn’t recommend it. 

And that was it. 

I went on my way to get my blood drawn and then went on into work. I got the results later that day that showed uric acid in my blood on the high end and the doctor’s admin called me to confirm the gout diagnosis.

So, I should check the internet for treatment options and drink some cherry juice.

Millions of people all over the planet have gout and we’ve been getting it for hundreds of years.  And still, this is the best we can do.  

Science, you have let me down.

When I was a kid, I could spend literally hours in a book – reading through page after page at a breakneck speed. Less reading, really, and more like absorbing the stories.

But then a smart phone came along and my attention span fell apart.  Now, I would have trouble concentrating for a long period of time with the siren song of the interwebs calling from my pocket. 

I didn’t like that I had become so easily distracted and resolved to recapture the immersion and speed from my younger days.

And it’s worked, mostly.  A cup of tea, a comfortable chair, and a good book with a silenced phone meant I could escape again into some fantastical world again.

Provided it was a good book.  With all the books I’ve read over the years, I have a pretty high standard for my reading materials and if I’m going to invest my time – it had better be good and it had better be weird.

(I have also gotten a bit snobbish about the size of books.  $23 for a novella?  Absurd!)

I was pretty excited when I picked up a new book that had an interesting cover, an interesting title, and a summary that suggested it would be quite weird.

And then… it wasn’t very weird.  Things happened to people and people did things, but it was at this strange remove.  I was 3/4 of the way through before the first ghost ship showed up, but there was no connection or reason.  It simply was.  Where was the mythology?  Why were these things happening?  It just plodded along until at the end when the ghosts animated wax figures from a museum and…saved the day?  I guess?  I lost the thread somewhere in there.

I read it all the way through – seems courteous – but added it to the Half-Priced books pile when I closed the cover.  I didn’t like it, but perhaps someone else will.

I’ve moved on now to a suitably weird and consistently weird (and reasonably priced) new book and I’ve spent much of the weekend sitting outside in the sunshine – with my nose buried in a fantastical tale.  

As I should be. 

When I bought my first chromebook, it felt…special.  Since a chromebook mostly requires a wi-fi connection to function, it felt less like a traditional computer and more like an extension of the internet itself. Or perhaps just my portal to that space. 

I was enamored with the interface and the touchscreen – though I’m not much of an artist.   I was already all-in with google so I navigated the docs, sheets, and drive like an old pro.  And I was free to move around the house and write where-ever I wanted. 

I even put a cool-looking clock decal on the cover.

And then, that time ran out.  A chromebook is only as good as the last security update and the latest updates soon would no longer run.  I tried to use it even after the last update, but it was sluggish at best. 

I waited a while, torn with spending more money for an essentially disposable computer, and felt a little cut off.  Not that I didn’t have my main computer and a phone smarter than most some people, but that magical portal had faded. 

So, I waited for a sale and when the 4th of July rolled around, I bought a new chromebook.  Found one for less than $200, bought it at Best Buy, and brought it home.

And had it set up in about 20 minutes – with most of that being waiting for a download.  There’s not much to setting up a chromebook – it’s mostly just logging in.

The new chromebook feels a little more serious.  It’s about the size of my main laptop and has a full keyboard, but no touch screen. Pretty amazing for the price – and astonishing based on what that would have gotten me only a few years ago.   The portal has reopened – though it doesn’t quite have that magic.  And the clock has already started to tick. 

But it’s nice to have my own little corner of the internet where I can drink tea and tell stories – to those around me and to future versions of myself. 

Now, I just need to find a good decal to add to this one – and decide how and when I’m going to e-recycle my old portal. 

Even after Jim and I got married, we generally kept our finances separate. It was from habit, mostly, since we’d dated for many years before that. There just didn’t seem to be a hurry to combine those.

We each pay half the mortgage each month and split up the bills, but when the insurance payment came in it was the first check with both of our names on it. Since this came along attached to a future remodeling project in the basement, we decided it would be a good opportunity to open a joint bank account.

So, we made an appointment and arrived at the bank with two forms of ID each and a check with both of our names on it.

The assistant manager greeted us warmly and seemed genuinely happy to help us with the new account. She worked quickly on the requisite paperwork and chatted amiably about what we did for a living and how long we’d had our house.

She was either genuinely interested in us or faked it well enough that she seemed friendly.

I’m really fine either way.

In short order, she had the new account set up and the deposits made. And she also helped Jim order new checks.

Lastly, she set us up as beneficiaries on each other’s accounts – in case something happened. Which was great of her to notice and thoughtful to suggest.

And then we were on our way with a stack of paperwork and a promise that the online system would sync up with our regular accounts in a few days.

It was remarkably easy and efficient. Feels like we hit a milestone and I love that for us.

Waaaaay back in the day, when I was an undergraduate student at The University of Akron, I worked as a student assistant in the Department of Telcommunications. My first job there was as an operator for the campus switchboard and for a while I was the only male working there. Which had an interesting side effect that my female colleagues could transfer difficult calls to me in the absence of a manager and I could throw a little extra bass in my voice to sound like someone with authority. We played to the stereotypes.

Later on, I got additional responsiblity and helped with scheduling and timekeeping – and eventually was more of an office manager. One task I was asked to do was to help with some recordings.

At the time, all of the residence halls had landline phones in each room for student use – along with voicemail. Each semester, the voicemail boxes needed to be cleared and reset – and they needed a male voice to re-record a default header for the male residence halls.

For each rooms’ mailbox, I deleted any messages, reset the password, deleted any greetings, and re-recorded the header. Over and over again. And by the time I was done, there was no one faster with that system.

I did a good enough job with this that I was asked to record the voice-mail for the Telephone repair line.

Even years after I left the department, the manager insisted that they keep that recording. Including when they migrated to a new system. So that was cool and flattering.

As things turned out, as I became the Assistant Director for the webteam as a full time employee, I also “inherited” the management of the switchboard.

(there were a couple VP’s at the time that were shuffling things around…)

Which was an interesting, though not an easy, job. I put my voice to work again occassionally/frequently answering the calls – or handling the escalated calls like the old days. Though with actual authority this time.

I also recorded the after hours message and after we switched to a phone tree instead of a staffed setup, I recorded the “press 1 for…press 2 for…” message as well.

This week, we’re making more updates to that system and it’s been decided – for more flexiblity and ease of future updates – that we’ll no longer be using a recorded voice.

Instead we’ll have a script that will be read by a generated AI voice.

I’m being replaed by a robot.

I get why we’re doing it and the voice isn’t terrible. But it does feel like the end of a 30 year long era.

As we switch over to the new system, I’m going to do one last recording with the full script and save the file. It’s my small way of backing up the machines.

Just in case they ever need a human to speak for them.

I don’t know of anyone that likes going to the dentist, but I don’t usually mind it too much.  I had stopped going for a while and started again when I realized I needed to do something about the headaches I was getting every morning from grinding my teeth. And I found a dentist that had an office 5 minutes away.

I recently had my third appointment at the nearby dentist and it started off with x-rays.  But not just regular x-rays – these were the more “comprehensive” variety that are done every 3-5 years.  Since this was only my third time at this practice, I would have expected those to have been done at my first visit.  But, since the insurance was paying for it, I didn’t balk.

Except these were really uncomfortable and involved an apparatus that looked like a old-school death-ray shoved into my mouth.  The technician said I did a good job once she was finally done and released me from the lead blanket – but she was also a little snarky while it was going on so I wasn’t really excited about her praise. 

Also, I’m happy they gave me the lead blanket to protect my torso from x-rays – but I’d also kinda rather not have cancer in my head. So, I dunno what to do about that.

The hygienist made her usual one-sided small talk while cleaning my teeth and I tried to maintain the conversation with both of her hands in my mouth.

1. I’m going to bring signs next time – a Yes|No sign should get the job done.
2. A tiny mirror, a metal pick, one hose to spray water and one to suck it up.  This is the best technology they’ve got, apparently.

When she finished up, she:

1. Complimented me on how well I was keeping my teeth free of plaque
2. Cautioned me that I was brushing too hard.

Which is really unfair.  I also apparently need to get an electric toothbrush. 

The dentist then came in and “welcomed me in”.   As though I was a new patient.  I’m new-ish, but this was my third time being there and I’d seen him the last time I was there.

He asked me a bunch of intro questions – and didn’t write down any of my answers. And he told me that based on the wear on my teeth and the shininess of my old fillings that I likely grind my teeth and it’s good that I have a mouth guard.

Which I got from that practice.    It was a little surreal. 

Oh and he asked me when was the last time I had been to the dentist.  Which I answered “six months”

Either make the effort to get to know me – and write something down – or just skip it, okay? Sigh.

Everything was ultimately fine and I guess that’s the best result I could have.  

I left the appointment with clean teeth – but feeling salty.

Jim was out in the backyard when he called me over.

Can you get rid of a dead body while I keep the dogs distracted?”

…he asked and said there was some dead critter by the shed and he didn’t want the dogs to get into it. I went to the garage and got a shovel, gloves, and a plastic bag.

It turned out to be a small opossum and it was still pretty fresh and partly under the ramp into the shed. I got it out with the shovel, scooped it into the bag, and disposed of the corpse in the trash.

I’m basically a varmit undertaker.

And if you don’t go get a shovel – no questions asked – when your “fella” tells you he’s got a dead body to dispose of, well, is it even love?

It started with a clogged toilet on a Tuesday.  I had used the bathroom in the basement and ended up clogging the toilet.  I worked on this with a plunger for quite a while, finally resorting to the interwebs for advice.  It was conflicting, of course, but the addition of dish soap seemed like the least dangerous option.  Late in the evening, it finally cleared with some sudsy plunging and I called it a night.  

Wednesday morning I went downstairs to check and give it another test flush.  And it overflowed – with clean-ish water, at least.   I swore, spread paper towels on the floor to keep the fortunately minimal water contained, and figured I would get it sorted when I got home later.   And I went on into work.

At lunch time, I came home to let the dogs out and feed them – then went downstairs to check on the bathroom.  As soon as I turned on the light to the basement I could see there was a problem. 

There was water on the carpet.  

I raced downstairs, my feet squelching as soon as I hit the bottom.  There was a huge flood and water everywhere.  But, it didn’t seem to be connected to the bathroom or the toilet.  The water was deepest – literally – in the middle of the furnished family room.

I texted Jim at work, then emailed my office and let them know I wouldn’t be coming back to the office. 

Then I changed clothes and set to work.

I moved a few things up to the garage to start drying, then tried the shop-vac with no luck.

Jim called and I bought him up to speed.  He then called the insurance company and got a referral for a restoration company – and called them to get someone dispatched.

I made a hurried and unsuccessful trip to Lowe’s for some kind of water pump – getting back as the restoration guy arrived.  I got things opened up for him and he got started – and I called a plumber.

The plumber couldn’t arrive until after hours and I went ahead and booked an appointment, then went back down to help move things out of the restoration guy’s way – and carried more things up to the garage.

He had to dump the tanks in his truck 3 times and estimated that he had pumped out over 400 gallons of water.  When he finally wrapped up for the day he set up fans and dehumidifiers.

Jim got home a little later and we ate, then waited for the plumber – who didn’t arrive until after 8. 

The plumber brought in his equipment and set to work clearing out the main drain line – eventually finding that it had been clogged by tree roots.

And tampons.

The plumber looked at Jim and I – and we looked at each other.  Noting that we have lived here nearly 4 years.   

WIth the main line cleared he had us test all the drains and toilets in the house and everything worked.  He also noted that we needed to replace the sump pump – which was failing – but that it could wait until the next day.   And if we waited, it would save us about $150 since we wouldn’t be on overtime.

I still had a lot of anxiety that night – having trouble getting to sleep.  I got up around 3 am to go down and check the basement again just to make sure we were okay.

Thursday I worked from home and the restoration guy came back to check on the equipment and seal the basement with a zippered plastic door to improve the heat and evaporation.  He said he’d be back on Saturday to shut things down and pick up the equipment – but that the floor was drying well.

The plumber was back not long after that to install a new sump pump.  In the meantime, Jim and I had been working with the insurance company to file a claim.   We had good coverage, but it wasn’t going to cover the cost of the plumber’s work or the sump pump.

The fans ran 24/7 until Saturday when the restoration guy came to get the equipment and Jim and I were generally pleased with the work – though the carpet wasn’t in great shape anymore.  

It was, at least, dry.

Jim and I reviewed the items that had been in the basement and there was only minor damage.  A metal table leg rusted and a bag with art supplies was ruined, but that was the worst of it.

We got mostly back to normal after that and it was about a week later that the insurance inspector came to look at the basement. 

Took him about an hour and his determination was that the carpet would need to be replaced.  He emailed his report and the company sent us a check. 

We’re trying to decide if we want to turn this into a bigger renovation project in the basement by taking out the bar – or just replace the carpet.  For now, the garage is still packed with the stuff from the basement. 

We keep telling ourselves and each other – and anyone that will listen – that it could have been much worse. 

EDIT: We’re still trying to figure out the scope of the changes we want to make in the basement – just carpet or a full-on remodel.