What is How to Annoy the Hell Out of Me?

I HATE to be kept waiting. It is one of my biggest pet peeves. Right up there with when people tell you they will do something and then don’t. THAT pisses me off too. But back to waiting and my hatred of it.

There are some times when you expect to wait. Taking your car in for the “quick” 30 minute oil change that never takes less than 50 minutes, waiting in line at the Post Office, deciding to drive on I-76 at rush hour and the mandatory, annual female outing to the Gynecologist.

I expect to wait at the Gynecologist’s office. I understand that although women would love to know exactly when their babies will enter the world, usually the kid has other plans and therefore will throw the entire Ob/Gyn office’s appointments out of whack. I must admit that this still amazes me though. I mean, women have been birthing babies, well, forever, right? And we’ve had Obstetricians and Gynecologists for at least a hundred years and Bill Gates’ computers do run the universe right? So how come they haven’t figured out a way to schedule the appointments better and not keep us waiting for so fucking long?!?! I’m sure if they figured that out then World Peace would follow shortly thereafter. But I digress. I like to think I’m smart and have figured a way around the mess that is known at the Ob/Gyn offices. At least I thought I was.

I only go to the Gyn part of Ob/Gyn. She doesn’t birth babies. She doesn’t want to get woken up at 3:30 in the morning with notices of water breaking or contractions starting. She just wants normal office hours. And those normal office hours means that although she may get backed up a bit, she’s usually never more than a half hour behind. Until the other week. I got to my 4:00 appointment on time and I did not go in to see the Doctor until 6:00. To me, that is unacceptable. When I got there they told me that they were behind. Really? Well then why the hell didn’t you call me? It’s not that hard to do. Pick up the phone, punch in some numbers… apparently at 2:00 you knew that you were running behind. USE THE PHONE. Correction, they used their phones. To tell some poor woman who was lost that if she made it to her appointment more than 10 minutes past her scheduled appointment time they would cancel her appointment. Are you fucking kidding me?!?! *

Of course as a lovely consolation prize (in addition to every a non-procreating woman’s dream to read “Babies and Mommies Magazine” for 2 hours) they gave me 4 months worth of freebie pills. That will save me over $135. I’m happy about that but I think my time is worth more than that. Of course that will cover the installation of one of my windows so maybe I should have wished they kept me waiting a few months, I mean, minutes, longer.

* The lost woman was 15 minutes late to her 5:00 appointment. The receptionist gave her a hard time for being late but “graciously” didn’t cancel her appointment. When I left at 6:20 the woman was still in the waiting room enjoying her "Babies and Mommies."

My apologies

for not checking my blog yesterday to notice that Blogger fucked it up. It should all be back up and running now and once I finish this cup of coffee I'll post another entry.

When it rains it’s a torrential downpour with minor coastal flooding

So I’m getting all the trim on my house painted. I’m excited for a few reasons: One, it really needed it, two, my neighbors needed to get their house painted so they got tons of estimates and then when they chose the best and cheapest, I went next door and asked the painters if they would give me an estimate and then do mine next, they said yes,(Boy do I love letting someone else do the pain in the ass research on home improvement things), and finally, I was going to do it myself and was going to start this past weekend but since they were there and their estimate was so cheap I hired them on the spot. “Start as soon as you can!” I tell them!

So yesterday one of my kick-ass neighbors e-mailed me to tell me that the painters had started in on my house. Yippee! Then I got home from work and the painter says, “Uh, we have a problem.” NOT what I want to hear. It appears that a piece of wood over a window on the front of my house is completely rotted and needs to be replaced. No problem! That’s it?

Oh God no! I have two windows in my attic (the only ones that were NOT new) that have completed rotted thru (did I mention that the trim on the house REALLY needed to be painted?!?). He even showed me how easy it was to push the windows, frame and all, right in. Lovely. So now I need two replacement windows.

Now, in the grand scheme of things two, new windows, and a piece of wood being replaced isn’t a big deal. Bu what is the problem is this has NOT been budgeted for. I know, I know, what IS ever budgeted for?!? But, you see, I’m broke. And up until this weekend I was going to paint the trim on the house myself until those lovely paint covered men showed up and said, “Oh no, don’t you get on a ladder, we can do it for next to nothing!”

I should be grateful. I know that had I started scraping the paint I would have noticed the rotten wood and would have completely freaked out. Of course if I had been doing the painting I also would have just slapped some paint on it as if I didn’t know what rotten wood felt like - “Gee, you mean, I shouldn’t be able to put my hand thru this and reach right into my bathroom?” - and I would never have started in on the third floor windows because they’re, duh, too high, I can’t see them anyway and I was going to deal with those next year. Damn those painters for not letting me live in ignorant bliss!

But, the painters are also general contractors and they are going to let me know how much replacement windows cost and will install them for me if I’d like. They’re also replacing the wood over the window too. I guess I should be grateful it isn’t worse. Now if only they would do it all for their original estimate I could still build the patio in the backyard.

Why couldn’t I just have been born independently wealthy? It would have made all of this so much easier to take.

104 years young

And here I thought that me being seven years older than Train Guy was an issue….that’s nothing.

You say tomato, I say Exotic Dancer

So my friend found an Obstetrician. Her first name is “Cynamon.”

In my book, the name and spelling “Cynamon” belongs to a stripper not a Duke educated Doctor. I’m sorry, but it’s true. And what were her parents thinking?

Hey, who am I to judge. I have one of the most boring names on earth. Maybe I should change my name to Cynamon. Or Cinnabon because those are just delicious….