I stepped in a puddle of dog pee first thing this morning and had to get out the Spotbot and do some carpet cleaning.
An outdoor wireless radio that Regis bought from some lame internet company, aside from not working, left a big puddle of oil on my stone-top table. Now we have to make some poultice to try and draw the oil out of the stone. Yeah, that'll work. I think while we're mixing up the poultice, I'll mix up some hex juice for this internet company that sells junk.
My dog has an earache and has to go to the vet at 1:20 this afternoon. We'll be bombarded with requests for permission to do senior blood panels and teeth cleaning and sonic toe nail polishing. It's not easy having a dog anymore.
Regis is trying to get his surgery set up with the MC. They've been helpful but the insurance company, has not. They told him this morning they have 10-30 days to give approval and they've only had the request since the 10th of July. I guess that means they have 30 days, they'll take 30 days. And besides, they may need some more information, not mentioning what that would be. Even though he gave his member number five times, I don't think they gave him any information that they couldn't have given if he had walked in off the street to wax the floors. This was not personalized information, is what I'm trying to say.
I read once that in a research study on anger, the #1 source of anger for people who were surveyed was dealing with insurance companies. When Regis had heart surgery, I got into a spat with a woman at his provider (as they say) over the charges for a private room. I said we didn't request a private room and it wasn't a private room because there were two beds. Then she asked if I had tried to find a roommate for him. Tried to find a roommate. In a hospital. I need Louis Black. You can't express the outrage a person feels over a stupid question like that in writing.
I'm going to take a nice warm bath and have a cup of peach tea. Maybe it will soothe my neurons and I'll come out all zen-like and tranquil.