Neanderpundit

Having had my nose roto-rooted has been quite the experience.

On the downside, the antibiotics they’ve given me have the effect of giving me constant acid indigestion, which I cannot do anything about since anything with calcium interferes with the effectiveness of the ABX. So no milk, no tums, nothing that would help my stomach. This is all over on Thursday, so there will be an end to the pain.

On the upside, I can breathe. It took a couple days, and when I visited the doctor for my followup, he yanked other wads of stuff out of my nose, mostly chunks of clotted blood but there seemed to be (Based on the sensations as he extracted them) a porcupine, several boxes of auto parts, and at least one large wriggling thing named “fred”. Now I’m pretty sure I could accidentally inhale most of my pillow as I sleep. I am beginning to have dreams that I am an old Eaton M62.

I spend all day talking on the phone. I talk on the phone to customers, many of which are not too horribly bright. It’s trying under the best of circumstances.

I hate to talk on the phone at home. Text me or mail me but please, don’t call. If I pick up the phone at home I want it to be because someone died. Used to be just the phone calls in the middle of the night bugged me- now it’s just about anything drives me nuts. I have shit to do. Don’t call me.

The Optometrist stopped by with a new (Well, to him) Police INterceptor Harley- in such wonderful shape it almost defies description. Sad to say (For him) it’s a present for his son in law from his daughter. A stupendously beautiful bike.

This afternoon I will be working away at the tree some more, the Ogwife and Oglet enlisted to help, and several other victims volunteers possibly showing to assist as well.