Busy not moving

Our office at work was moved this week.  They need room in the hospital for clinical staff, so they moved as much of the IT department as they could to an office downtown.  This is no small feat, as you can imagine.  Some of us started packing well in advance.  Some procrastinated, and some of us didn't have all that much to move.

I threw everything into a couple of boxes, and Monday afternoon the movers showed up to disconnect me computer.  (Because, you know, the IT department can't be trusted to move their own computers.)  The movers were supposed to arrive first thing on Tuesday morning and we were supposed to be set up in the new digs by 10:00am.  That didn't happen.  The movers went MIA, and didn't show up until the end of the day.  I worked from home but didn't get much accomplished.

Wednesday, I arrived at the office to find my stuff and reluctantly started to unpack.  The new office wasn't great.  It's an old building that feels dirty, and the cubicles are tiny.  I didn't even have room to sit in my chair and spin around in circles.  (Yes, I do that!  Don't you?)

About an hour after I arrived, I was called into the big boss' office.  While I wracked my brain to think of what I'd done wrong, he informed me that he's worried about my allergies.  He said that it'll be difficult to keep the office relatively dust free because of it's age, and offered to have me moved back to the hospital.  At first I wasn't convinced I wanted to go - my coworkers and friends are there now - but it wasn't long before I broke out with hives.  Yesterday, I had a wicked, terrible case of them; worse than I've experienced in a long time.  So, back I went.

Today, we bypassed the movers.  I threw everything back into the boxes and we brought them back to the old location.  The move that took two days to accomplish earlier in the week was undone in under an hour.

And, I get a primo cubical this time.

(PS - Occupational Health and Safety have already been in contact with me.  They'll be visiting the new/old office next week for inspection.  While I may have been lucky enough that my allergies gave me a pass, it's really not healthy for the folks I left behind to work there either.)

A little Irony

When my parents moved and started to get rid of most of their stuff, I called dibs on their snow blower.  I live on a corner, so there is a lot of shovelling to do.  However, when my dad explained that his (former) next door neighbour was unwell, and preparing to have ankle surgery, I agreed that the snow blower should be given to him.

Since then, my place has been stuffed to the gills with my parents' belongings.  Basement, garage and side yard are all full; there is no more room.

It has snowed a lot this year.  A lot.  Snow piles are now higher than my waist - taller in some areas.  I can't push the snow off the front porch anymore, because the piles around it are higher than the porch.  Now I have to lift the snow up, over the banisters and drop it down into the piles.

I'm not sure why, but this week the (former) neighbour decided he doesn't want the snow blower any more.  He called my dad and asked him to take it back.  My dad called me, and asked if I wanted it.  I said yes, but I have no place for it.  I can't take it until I make room.  Until then, it'll have to stay in storage.

We got another dump of snow yesterday.  The day before that, they cleared portions of the road, right onto the sidewalks.  I'm about to go out to hand-shovel for about an hour.  If I had the snow blower, it would take me 15 minutes.  But I can't have the snow blower until the snow melts and I can do a garage sale to make room for it.  How much to do you want a bet, we'll have next to no snow next year?

This 'n that... the PG version

I've now officially been in my new job for a little over a month.  I love it, but I'm busier than I've ever been.  OT has become the norm, which is something that I've always tried to avoid, but I'm not minding too much.  I'm feeling quite useful actually, because I'm accomplishing a lot.

On the flip side, the new boss has been cautioning me not to over do it.  She doesn't want me going into the operating room already run down, and has been reminding me that I have to tell her if I reach a point that it's too much.  I decided last night that I'd tell her today I'd reached that point.  (And I did.)  She's being completely reasonable about it, and we're scaling back until after my surgery.

I think my timing was perfect, because I forgot my purse - something I never do - at home this morning.  After work, I drove home to get it, and then turned around and went to the restaurant for dinner with my parents.   We had a really nice dinner, after which I got up and drove home.   Without my purse.

Surgery is coming up, in about a month.  Here's the thing.  There are lots of ways they can do it, and my Dr gave me his recommendations, but I went home to research on Dr Internet to make my final decision.

Laparoscopically or open?  Take the cervix or leave it?  The doctor wants to do an open surgery (where he cuts an opening, pokes around to have a looksee and cuts things out.    He also wants to remove my cervix because it's part of the uterus, and since there are problems with my uterus, there could still be problems if he leaves it behind.  (Plus, he says the surgery to remove a cervix that doesn't have a uterus attached is a lot harder, and likely to have more complications.)

I don't know why, but I assumed that he'd leave it behind, so this took some research.  I spent quite a bit of time on Dr Internet to check it out.

According to Dr Internet, removing the cervix can lead to prolapse (incontinence), or damage to the bladder (incontinence).  Plus, the cervix is one of the sources for the Big Oprah.    The good kind.
Forget worries about peeing myself for the rest of my life - I'm worried about sex.  Granted, it's been a while since there's been a cowboy in my life, but when I finally do get back on the saddle, this chick wants the full YeeHaw.

So, I asked the Dr to confirm or deny what I'd found.  He didn't agree about either the prolapse or damaged bladder concerns, and he absolutely disagreed with the bit about the Big Oprah.  He said that only happens from external... encouragement, and it won't change.

I called Bullshit right then and there.  I told him that if he thinks that, I don't know if he's the guy to be chopping out my bits.  I said that external will do in a pinch, but the really good ones come from deep down inside.  And if he cut out the part that makes that happen, I was going to be some seriously pissed off.

His response to that was that the really really good ones come from the tips of our toes, and he won't be touching my feet.   He kind of had a point.

(I ended up having a couple of very frank decisions with some friends who have had the same surgery, and they helped me make up my mind.)

And thus endith the portion of the blog for which I feel I should apologize.

I left his office with a lot on my mind.  Some of which was:

• I wish the walls in Dr's offices weren't so thin.
• This is the first time I've ever wished I had a female doctor instead of a male.
• I should really find a doctor that isn't my dad's golfing buddy.

To the Market, I hope

Last fall, a friend asked me to go with her to the community association annual general meeting. I went, but I told her I was NOT volunteering.  When we arrived, we were promptly met with a list of volunteer positions that they were looking to fill.  I explained that I wasn't in a position to make long term time commitments.  I'd agree to be at *that* meeting,  I agreed to join a few of the volunteers at a member drive, and I might be at the next meeting.  That was it.  I didn't want to commit myself to a volunteer position I wasn't sure I wanted to do, but I did commit (and go) to each monthly meeting as they came up.

A while back, I went on my own to a meeting at the city hall about taking a run down area of town near the river, and turning it into a hot spot.  There, I met a couple who run a local farming coop.  They grow fresh produce and sell it directly to consumers instead of wholesalers.  I asked to be put on their mailing list, and showed up the next time they came to town.  They had rented a cramped skate shack with next to no parking, and I thought to myself - we could do better at our community hall.

The idea, which started with offering the coop farmers use of our community hall, grew as it percolated.  These farmers are great, but there are more.  There are local honey producers, people who keep free range chickens for eggs, and some really impressive artisans in the area.  So, I approached the community association and asked if they'd be interested in hosting a market aimed at spotlighting local vendors.

What I thought would be a hard sell turned into a bandwagon, and everybody jumped on.  We went to the city and got their full support;  the 100 Mile Market is now in the works.  We'll start off small, and see where it goes.  Right now, we're thinking 10-15 tables, but we expect (hope!) to outgrow our little community hall soon.    There are lots of details to work out, and we'll be delayed be my surgery - this is MY baby, after all - but we hope to host our first market in May.  With any luck, it'll be a regular monthly event where people can come to find quality products that have been grown, raised or made from scratch within a 100 miles.  Don't look now, but it appears that I've made a commitment.

Multi-species stress reliever

I heard a weird noise behind me this afternoon.  I'd hear a snapping and popping for a few minutes, then there'd be silence.  A few minutes later the popping started again.  I ended up getting up to investigate, only to find Himself parked on top of a sheet of bubble wrap.  The bubbles were popping whenever he shifted position, and I could have sworn there was a smile on his face.

Shopping Angst

I went clothes shopping today.  I'm told that there will be much swelling and distention in my tummy after my surgery, and that I'll need clothes that are at least a size or two too big for a month or so.  I've already got two pairs of flannel pj bottoms that are too big, so I bought a pair of floral pj bottoms and a pair of stretchy jeans, both two sizes too big.  (I'm mostly focusing on the pj's, because I don't expect to be leaving the house for the first month that I'm home... and, nobody will care if I wear oversized pj's once this is all over.)   

I also had instructions to stock up on granny panties - again two sizes bigger than normal - but I failed on that mission.  Clothes shopping makes me cranky in general, but underwear shopping is even worse.  It was hard enough to buy pants that are significantly larger than I am, but oversized granny panties was quite simply more than I could bring myself to do.

Thoughts of the day

I received a gift from a cousin today.  It seems he's got a neighbour with more money than brains who bought two cases of the world's most expensive TP (so he says - I haven't actually confirmed this).  He had it shipped in from Italy and then gave rolls out as gifts.   My cousin, generous soul that he is, sent all his cousins each a square of his roll so that we could know how the other half lives.

Apparently, a roll of this stuff costs $20.

It's pretty soft, actually.  It feels more like felt than it does paper, and it's certainly a step up (or two) from the TP made from recycled products that I buy.


My dad also brought me a present today - my kindergarten graduation certificate.  Although I've never had any desire to display any of my diplomas or degrees, I'm half tempted to frame this one and hang it on the wall in jest.

Although, I can't help but notice that the principal didn't sign it.

Does that invalidate the education that came afterwards????



And finally, I received a cheque in the mail this week.  Last summer, I tried participating with a blogging group that posts ads on your blog and then pays you for the space.  I opted out after a few months because I found their rules and regulations to be a bit strenuous, and it took until now for my payment to arrive.

Granted, I'm perfectly aware that mine is a low traffic blog, but that's all I got for hosting their ads for almost three months.

If you think about it, that would buy me 17 1/4 squares of toilet paper.

If I hadn't opted out, it would have taken me almost a year and a half to earn enough to pay for an entire roll.

Clearly, I'm not going to be able to count on this blog to support me.  Maybe I should go back to kindergarten so that I can get a better paying job.