The Squeak Strikes Back

Since it was my day for NOAs, I jumped into them...only to repeatedly get some error from our Outlook web site. I snagged the dependency ones from that site, and eventually managed to get in for the criminal ones, too. Good thing, since my day for eservice is tomorrow. It was another massively productive day, I managed to get completely caught up on my claims, NOAs, etc, and *almost* managed to swing in for others.

I managed to get to the thrift store again, and they were even open! Unfortunately, they only had one cookie sheet, and I wasn't even sure it could go in the oven. I reluctantly hopped over to Ralph's, and while the drivers were everything you'd expect from holiday shopping, most of the folks walking around were lovely, or at least delighted by my jokes. I picked up a bottle of vodka while I was there, because I was almost out and really, really did not want to have to run back with the last minute shoppers.

The contact Amy put me in touch with flat declined the company paying me back, whether via the "cosmetic" endoscopy or regarding the start date for my claims, so I emailed her and she put me in touch with yet more insurance folks. They were working on the endoscopy, and I brought up the start date as well, and emailed them the conversation with Amy. We'll see what happens there, but I'm already looking into suing. I feel kind of bad for Amy, since the incorrect information came from her, but not so bad I'm willing to forfeit $2500.

Feeling much better than yesterday, I finally did clean the apartment. Well, what passes for clean in my head, anyway. Vacuumed, cleaned the stove and the bathroom, litter box, trash, recycling, and even cleared off the dining room table. There's more to clean, for sure, and if I was still in the office, I'd have hired Kenneth.

I shouldn't have, since I knew Tim would probably come over, but I had a few drinks in the evening. He did show up, and seemed to make more irritable comments than usual. I was Numb enough to let them slide, though. He asked if I had tequila, and I noted that I hadn't bought any since he confiscated my liquor cabinet while I was in rehab. He has no idea where any of that is, or if maybe Tami drank it. He brought up cleaning my last apartment after it looked like a murder scene, and that while I did pay for it, it apparently wasn't enough. My meds started kicking in, but I left him my credit card for whatever he needed.