Twenty-two (8/10)

Free-writing on this one.
So what’s up with me.

  • ((long description baleeted))  I’m not getting my infusion until next week.  This sucks more than I can even say.  When we move, if we’re close to the neurology clinic, I’m getting away from this bunch of incompetent folks.
  • Trying to figure out how to deal with household problems is tough when you’re hours away.
  • The new dentist I visited this morning has this weird paint-on fluoride he’s using.  It feels strange.
  • I really do like my job, and I feel strange not working during the day.  But I ran out of billable hours, so I’ll deal with the alone time.
  • Do I want lunch?  I really didn’t eat breakfast because I was going to the dentist.
  • Putting periods on a bulleted list feels very wrong.  At the same time, if I had a 1980s MBA, everything I ever wrote would be in a bulleted-list.  In Power Point.
  • I did finally fill the final slot in the Fantasy Football league with my friend from college.  With at least half the league being up here in NoVA, I’m hoping that people will be interested in doing a time or two of drinking.
  • It took me three days to get through this one podcast.  It’s incredible how completely out-of-touch some of the folks are.  (And I can’t read that without hearing it in Bill O’Reilly’s voice.  Fuck it.  We’ll do it live!)

I could keep writing, but the motivation has completely vanished.
I wish there was beer delivery here.