...Also known as lung Cheetos.
I don't even have the energy to illustrate this post with clever images stolen from around the Internets. My seasonal tuberculosis (which I finally spelled right on the first try) is raging inside me, and the battle is getting messy. Earlier, I think I coughed up a lung (which prompted me to look up how much a lung weighs...about 2.5 pounds, in case you care) and surmise that if you're going to lose an organ for weight loss, a lung's not a very good bet. Three pounds of goo from inside said lung, however? That is actually a win/win. Though it tends to scare the cat.
After three days of feeling like I'm coming down with something but blaming allergies and "high mold counts," my lungs exploded and then, just for shits and giggles, invited my sinuses to join the party. So now I'm a big hacking, drippy, bleary-eyed mess, and, instead of mold, I totally blame my place of employment, which is where I catch all my viruses. And, because it's late and I'm a little high on catnip tea, I could go on about people coming to work sick and infecting the rest of the fucking office, but I won't, because the catnip is (I'm told) more of a relaxer than a stimulant, and I need to save my energy to rant about my boiler.
It broke.
I think the boiler guy who came to "clean and check" broke it, but I can't be sure. He was a nice kid, but maybe less experienced and forgot to put a shield back in place or something. The company, who I won't name unless they piss me off, is ordering the part that got fried when the flame rolled out and melted some wires, shorting out the limiter/controller/flux capacitor thingee that could have blown me to kingdom come but, fortunately, didn't. Snaps to the Experienced Guy who came back and went to bat for me, going so far as to call the young guy and grill him on what he did and didn't do, step by step. I think my boiler doesn't like it when new people touch it, because whenever Experienced Guy comes, all is well. Last time a new guy came, the expansion tank blew THE NEXT DAY. Coincidence? But I still don't know if they're going to try and charge me for this repair. AND I have to take more time off work...but I'm home sick anyway (because unlike some people, I stay home when I'm sick, yes I'm bitter), so I guess it all works out.
Except for my lawnmower, which also died. Dad helped me sharpen the blade, and I think we may have put the blade back on slightly not quite right. Turns out electric mowers and their motors are VERY sensitive to things like hitting rocks or, say, putting the blade-washer-holdy-thing back on in not quite the right order, cuz I think it's fried. And nobody works on electric mowers. The 800 number in the little lawnmower book cannot, according to the recording, "be called from your area." WTF? Oh...yes, it's in CANADA.
All this is to say, I'd like a time out and a re do to start October over again. Or just pause. Or better yet, pause and fast forward PAST my follow-up appointment with ...wait for it...the pee hole doctor.
Mostly, whatever pokes, prods or (gulp) spelunking that take place behind the curtain, I don't want it to result in my being on antibiotics (which, turns out, they like to give you as a post-spelunking precaution), because my birthday is in a WEEK, and I have plans with my good friends Jim Beam and Jack Daniels. BIG PLANS.
