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This is my blog, and it is dangerous. Do you think I want to die like this?





Thursday, October 7, 2010

~insert groan, followed by a sigh~

My husband is supposed to lose his job in 6 months.  Did you guess outsourcing?  You're so smart. 

On top of that, my dental insurance has decided that it won't pay for anything else this year.  (If anyone wanted to ram something straight up the ass of the person who made that decision, I'd think that was just terrific.)  I've needed a lot of work done recently, and still have at least three cavities to fill on my top teeth before they even get started on the bottom teeth.  For the past few weeks, one of the teeth I've already had filled has been giving me trouble ... and when I say "trouble", I mean that a very tiny demon is sitting next to the nerve and poking it with some sort of sharp jabbing device. 

Apparently, I'll need a root canal, and since my dental insurance is allowed to just tell me to go fuck my own face, we get to pay out-of-pocket for it.  Unless, I suppose, I want to wait until January 1st to see what fresh piece of shit dental insurance we get - that will be chosen by a company I'm certain is actively working out a way to screw us over entirely, by not giving a severance package of any kind.

Plus, because of our ridiculous night shift schedule, I get to have my root canal appointment smack dab in the middle of when I should be sleeping ... and we have to pray that our bank agrees, the day of the appointment, to do a payment plan through them, or the dentist will expect about $700 before I leave the building, which we do not have to give them.

Also, fleas are getting into our apartment, despite the fact that we have no pets.  I suspect it's a neighboring apartment which has a large, hairy dog - and stupidly thought that the people with the animal would be responsible for dealing with getting rid of the fleas.  Wrong, old camel breath - I have to do an enormous amount of vacuuming and linen washing and furniture moving and toy stowing right before some people come to spray some chemical around the apartment.  The kicker is that they expect me to take two small kids out of the apartment for over four hours to let this chemical dry - with no friends or family in the area and no car to take them anywhere, even if I had a place to go. 

It's been suggested that I could take the kids to the model apartment, but there is no television or radio or wireless.  I'm supposed to do all of this cleaning the day I get no sleep because I have to get a root canal, hope that some clowns show up at the time they said they would, and then drag two kids, by myself, to an empty apartment (knowing my luck, this apartment will be upstairs) with a suitcase full of diapers, toys and food, knowing that this will completely fuck up the kid's schedule and naps while they're both teething, and then sit around with our thumbs up our asses, because someone else's fucking mangy dog has fleas, and they can't be bothered to do anything about it.

I can tell you for sure that I'm fucked and will just have to put up with flea bites, because the miracles they're expecting me to work just aren't going to happen.

But, Nico - can't your husband take a day off to help you?

No.  Not unless he wants to give them the perfect excuse to lay him off now.  Thanks for playing.
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1 comment:

E. Studnicka said...

Wow... you do make complaining seem like an art form.
Seriously though, were I in your position I wouldn't be feeling too piggly wiggly either.