Now that I’ve been balanced for awhile, and spring is summer, and I can taste food, I accept more dinner invitations than usual.
When I’m out, I forget that Tuesdays turn invariably into Wednesdays, and that every other Wednesday I have a 7.45am psych appointment. And it’s usually at about 10pm that I remember.
There’s always something going on in NYC, and a lot of family and friends here. But – whoops. Time to head home.
I’m sure it is frustrating for the customer service reps who answer insurance claims questions.
It is also really frustrating to be the one calling. Why on earth can’t they show the progress of my claims on the website? Because it’s “confidential” and “sensitive” information. Yet every time I open the pages of my health insurance websites there are articles designed specifically for my health conditions.
I sometimes feel as though I’m showing signs of paranoia when I call the insurance companies. But it’s all real. And it puts me in a foul mood.
It’s that time of night again. Go to sleep, or watch another episode of Studio 60?
Forget the nonsense about taking life’s lemons and making lemonade. Here’s what really happens:
Life throws some lemons at me, and I’m all like, “Ugh. Lemons.” Sometimes, I’m more specific: “Drat these lemons. I’m so over these lemons. Same damn lemons, over and over.”
Then, life throws more lemons. Usually, these lemons are a direct hit, and they are a bit surprising. Not the same old stuff. Then, I’m like, “Jeez. I didn’t see that one coming. Ouch! That hurt! Left field, seriously – out of left field!“
So I look around, and I see the new lemons and the old lemons. And I forget that they are lemons-things-I’m-not-pleased-about, and see them as Lemons, Just Lemons. And I think,”Oh. Maybe I can make a meringue. Or lemonade. Lemonade is good.”
That’s it. True story. The end.
Golf and Sports Illustrated magazines dominate at the cardiologists’ office. I think it is a blatant case of Aspirational Magazine-ing.
superfabulousgettingby 