Yet Another Journal

Nostalgia, DVDs, old movies, television, OTR, fandom, good news and bad, picks, pans,
cute budgie stories, cute terrier stories, and anything else I can think of.


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» Wednesday, July 04, 2007
Home Finally
We have been at the emergency room since about 11:30 p.m. I had just come back from the bathroom, went to sit down on the sofa to watch the rest of Animal Cops Detroit and I suddenly started getting palpitations. I had already taken my Atenolol and cannot take another, so we waited for a while and then went over to Wellstar, where they did the whole routine on me: an X-ray, electrolytes, electrocardiogram, pulse, blood pressure, etc. My heart rate started out at 170, but had already dropped into the 90s by the time I got into the treatment room and was back down to high 70s by the time they let me go.

I don't know what happened; I do know dinner had made me sick again (just like the last time) and I've been wound up tighter than a top today: first I did two orders before I left this afternoon, intending to submit them for signature, but could not because ICE [the purchase order document generator] did not save either of them; the contracting officer has to approve in ICE as well as sign, and the electronic version is forwarded to the financial management office, so both of those were dead in the water. Tonight we were loading the dishwasher and swiping down the counters preparatory for company tomorrow, and found at least a half dozen roaches running around the kitchen counter. This is doubly annoying because Scott came last week and sprayed thoroughly under the counters and placed baits under the sink and under the dishwasher.

Well, he told me to call him if it got worse. I know he won't be in tomorrow, but I left them a message to call me pronto Thursday morning. It's absurd to be paying an exterminator and having the bugs getting worse.

So I was sick and frazzled by the time 10:45 rolled around. Maybe that was it. Every day seems to be getting more stressful. I get upset at the smallest things anymore. No wonder Schuyler doesn't want to deal with me; half the time I'm sitting there screaming either at Microslop Word or someone who's asked me "Why do I need to do this?" for the thousandth time.

But my prayers were answered. They said everything checked out okay and I get to sleep in my own bed tonight...God willing.

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