200 Foot Pole.

Yesterday Mike and I were driving behind one of those REEEALLLY annoying trucks that make a 1/3assed attempt (you know, less than a half-assed attempt) to cover the top of their rolling death machines. The fun thing about these portable crap haulers, is that whatever comes rolling out of it is always a surprise. It could just be sticks and branches, papers, coffee cups or trash, or it could be giant rocks. Either way, its a roll of the dice as to whether your windsheild will be smashed or you'll die. I must not be the only person who feels this way, as the truck, rather than fixing the Saran wrap loosely wrapped around the top to keep its contents from causing a 79 car pile up behind it, had a warning on the back which read:

WARNING:
STAY AT LEAST 200 FEET BACK. NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WINDSHIELD DAMAGE

I'm sorry, but yes, you are responsible for windshield damage, you ass knob! Can you imagine what would happen on I-35 if when reading that sign we had slammed on our breaks waited four minutes for the thing to get 200 feet in front of us and then continued on at 15 miles an hour to match its pace and thus not exceed the 200 foot rule of responsibility?
Well, I will tell you what would happen. Traffic would back up from Georgetown, Texas to EGYPT. Yes, cars would literally stretch across oceans, that is how insane the traffic would get.

Is that really all it takes, some stupid sign? Well, if that's the case, I'm running out tomorrow and getting a sign for my back windsheild that says:

WARNING:
STAY AT LEAST 200 FEET BACK. NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR COLLISIONS.

I figure if I have a nice 200 foot buffer on all sides of me, I won't have to concern myself with any sort of traffic laws. And should some turkey think that its okay to drive any closer to me, any sort of infraction would be rendered his fault as I am clearly not responsible.

I think this is a great idea, this 200 foot warning buffer. I recommend you all do the same.

WARNING:
I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR OFFENDING ANYONE WHO READS THIS BLOG. PLEASE STAY AT LEAST 200 FEET AWAY FROM YOUR COMPUTER.

Up All Night

Its been almost a month and I think I am mostly better. One lingering problem is my inability to sleep at night. I have never in my life had insomnia, but lately, I just can't fall alseep until its time to get up. Its driving me insane.

Tonight, I thought I may have had the problem licked-- I was asleep by 11:30pm, however, awake again at 12:57. I tried to fight it, but by 1:36am, I was wide awake as Midas began a set of marathon sneezing. That's it. I'm awake. I laid there and thought about how hungry I was since the whole house seems to be infused with a chili smell from dinner. I tried turning on my side and Maya viewed this as an invitation to come take over my pillow. When I tried to turn back, she was already in the lock and load mindset where she had to lick and wasn't going to take "no" for an answer. I spent the next several minutes sheilding my face, pushing her away, trying to hide under the covers, but pugs are relentless lickers. Finally I managed to twist myself into a position where my hand was over my face and she was able to just lick my hand until there was no skin left-- a pleasant alternative to her jamming her tongue into a nostril.

Once the 20 minute lick fest had ended, I suddenly found myself obsessing over some dry skin on my leg. Then biting at my fingernails. Then I was thirsty.

A shameful amount of potato sticks and 7-up later, here I am on the internet at 2:15 in the morning. I'm actually looking forward to this three-day weekend, despite the fact that we have nothing planned because I'll have someone to force me out of bed early and hopefully get over this weird sleeping thing. I miss sleep. I miss dreams about Marge Simpson and Real Estate Carnies. I miss daylight. How did this happen anyway?

Ohhh yeah... a month of not being able to breathe. Hooray sick.

In other, better, news: Maya had her pre-screening today to become a Therapy Dog. Her first class will be February 20th in Houston. I think Maya will be an amazing therapy dog. Everyone who meets her falls in love with her. People have very strong reactions to how little and cute and sweet she is. I really think she would brighten people's days-- especially when there is very little to look forward to in their lives. Despite the manic licking, she definately has a calming effect!



My only reservation is that I will have to take her out to hospitals and nursing homes without Midas and he's going to go crazy. I feel really bad about the fact that he's going to feel neglected, knowing that he lives for "rides in the car" but he could never be a therapy dog. He doesn't love to be cuddled by all people. He barks incessantly at certain people (only certain people) and while I love him like crazy-- he's not everyone's cup of tea.

Maya on the hand is perfect. She loves everyone. She loves to be pet and squeezed and she's more than at home in a lap. Hopefully she'll do some good for someone. Who knows.

Here is a link to Therapy Pet Pals of Austin. I don't know if it will show up as a hyperlink, though, as Blogger has a love-hate relationship with HTML code.... meaning that it hates it. Conventional computer coding means nothing to this website.

http://www.therapypetpals.org/photos.htm

Woe is Me.

I don't know how 2008 could do this to me. I waited for SO LONG to be rid of that stinky 2007, but thus far, '08 has been an upset.
I'm ready to throw in the towel already and wait for the crap to hit the fan. So far this year, I have been sick EVERY SINGLE DAY. Today, on day 18 of my unending illness, I started to feel better-- so I got up... walked out to the living room and decided to break a toe on our plastic wicker furniture.

At this point I'm just trying to mentally prepare for bad news. Tomorrow someone is coming to look at the house. I was pretty convinced that we'd be here for awhile, so that means it will probably sell. The post office doesn't have a limit on how many change of addresses one can have, right?
I'm also going to the doctor for day 19 of my unending illness. It will probably sound something like this:
Dr: "Are you still feeling sick."
Me: "A little, but I think I'm actually getting better."
Dr: "And you have medicine... and you've been to the hospital... so why are you here?"
Me: "Well, because I still wasn't getting better so I made the appointment... but then by the time I started to feel better we had already entered into the realm of being charged anyway for not keeping the appointment... so... here I am."
Dr: "O-kay."
Me: "Yep.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................so...............................................................................................................................................................had a good Christmas?"

My class sucks. Lesson learned, not taking an online class here again. I've taken online classes before, but this class, as far as I can tell, is literally reading some crap online. No tests. No homework. No grades maybe? Naturally, my compiler isn't working. I'm not sure what is wrong with it. Yes, I can download a new one, but that's not even the point. At least, I can sit here with a snot rag jammed up my nose, glasses on, and drinking cranberry juice... the perfect picture of what I thought a computer programmer should look like. And at least I can say I was sick for almost a month and lost 16 pounds.
And at least Cambpell's still makes Minestrone soup.
That's something.

My New Life

Its five in the afternoon-- my new wake up time.
This cold has changed and or ruined my life. I now sleep all day and am awake all night sleepily staring at the ceiling. Not to say that I don't have a new routine to adjust to, because I do have that. Exciting as it may be. I've swapped in any normal 9-5 activities for sleeping. Then around 5pm when I stumble (yes, stumble as if I have been drinking profusely) out of bed I am hit with an immediate wave of guilt that my poor dogs who have been champion sleeping by my side, haven't seen a fire hydrant yet today. So, I feel around on my "table O' Snot rags" for my glasses and bring them outside, where they spend their few happy moments.
In the meantime, I check my messages, as I have undoubtedly slept through several. Then onto email and often times this week from there I would take more pills, more nasal spray, and make more hot tea and go back to bed.

The nightime routine is the BEST, though. I'll watch late night TV until it feels like I SHOULD be tired and then fall into the "routine."

Adjust pillows
Contort around dogs who have already made themselves comfortable.
Sit up.
Blow nose.
Lay back down.
Check clock.
Sit back up.
Make hot tea.
Drink tea.
Back to bed.
Adjust pillows.
Stare at ceiling.
Try to think of something to think about.
Sit up.
Blow nose.
Nasal spray.
Blow nose.
Big sigh.
Adjust pillows.
Add a pillow.
**Commence snoring husband**
Sit up.
Go to kitchen and locate ear plugs.
Back to bed.
Ear plugs.
Thirsty.
Water.
Back to bed.
Oh man-- take out contacts.
Back to bed.
Earplugs in place.
Pillows... there.
Dogs... steaming
Chapstick.
Can't find the chapstick.
Searching...
Searching...
Searching...
There it is.
Apply heavy amounts of chapstick to already nasty lips.
There's Maya! Chapstick attracts dog 2 and shielding face from licking begins.
Check clock.
Decide to see what's on TV. Again.
Sit up.
Maya and I both watch TV in upright position.
Begin Cycle again.

I do not like my new life.