Friday, March 21, 2008

Rant

I title this post "Rant" as a) an accurate descriptor and b) warning to skip this and go look at something pretty if you are not keen on crankiness, an overabundance of medical detail or possible use of compound rude words of the FUCKDAMMITFUCK variety.

I had an appointment with my doctor this afternoon, so I cut out of work about an hour early to head back to my 'hood for the appointment. I had some time to kill so I wandered along the street loking in the shops, and visited the cunning new indie DVD and CD shop I found last weekend. (It's the only place I've seen that has copies of such trash/fabulous items as DVDs of Paris Is Burning, queer films by Bruce LaBruce, bizarro 70s blacksploitation films, ETC.)

Anyhoo, it being a 4 day weekend, and my pay not being paid until next week, and my wallet being somewhat light I priced a few items but did not buy them. Thinking, "oh yes, my new flatmate will give me her rent tonight so the money situation will be cool".

This is what's known as foreshadowing.

So I got in to see my doctor and I was a little fazed by the fact that he had a student in with him, sitting in on all their patient consults. They offered me the option of the student not being present if I wished, but it felt rude to say "no" and anyway I was curious to check him out. (What? I'm only human.) So I described my symptoms; tiredness, run-downness, lack of motivation, bladder discomfort, an episode of sharp pains in the lower abdomen, yadda yadda.

Am I depressed? Possibly. Does my back hurt? All the time. Etcetera.

So I peed in a cup and had some bloods taken. Blood pressure? High again. I dropped my pants (thankfully, brand new expensive underwear on - pays to keep standards up) and dutifully coughed several times for hernia checks. None. Laid down and had my abdomen probed.

Ah. Apparently if you are playing 20 Questions and ask "Is it bigger than a breadbox?" the current answer would be "Yes" if the subject was My Liver. Oh. Do I have Gilbert's Disease? (WTF?) No. Have I noticed any jaundice? No. How much do I drink? Between, say, 4 and 6 beers in an average week. (Not a problem.) He checked the liver function test I had done a month or 2 ago (to make sure the cholesterol meds I'm on weren't messing with it) and my results then were normal.

So mildly rattled and making a note to Google "Gilbert's Disease" (answer: genetic liver condition, usually paired with tendency to jaundice, does not seem particularly serious), I paid for the consult and made an appointment for next week for test results and further probing. The kicker, long consult + tests = $95. JESUSWEPTGODDAMMIT. I'll get a large % of that back from Medicare - next week sometime. And more importantly, Gosh! Thank goodness for my flatmate's rent tonight!

More foreshadowing.

Ay, this is getting too long. Cutting to the chase.

My new flatmate comes home and tells me she is moving out tomorrow. She said a bunch of things about the length of the commute to uni each day and something about having an offer accepted on a place closer that she saw but the guy wanting her to move in tomorrow, but frankly between the buzzing in my ears and the red mist descending I was too distracted to take it all in.

Now, when she moved in we discussed her giving me a minimum of 2 weeks notice when it came time for her to leave. I was somewhat preoccupied imagining squeezing her head real hard so neglected to press that point home, and she didn't mention it either. So she is basically stiffing me 2 week's rent, technically. Right? I mean she paid for the 2 weeks she has lived here, but she's not meeting that condition of 2 week's notice. Anyhoo, we have nothing in writing and I can't imagine she's in a position to pay it. SHITFUCKITTYFUCK. She scampered off to her room straight away, but I'll broach the topic with her tomorrow.

If I'm not busy squeezing her head.

So, I have funds to get through the weekend if I don't really buy anything and I restrict myself to not going out much. That my friends is a recipe for a fun 4 day weekend!

[Jebus! Did you make it to the end, or just skip ahead to the denouement? If you stayed the distance, well done you! Please exit through the Gift Shop.]

12 comments:

Mel said...

Oh dear. Knitting from stash and going for long walks, I'm thinking. Just remember, kitten, while you're on a 4 day weekend, I'll be putting in 24 hrs at work. Minimum.

jason said...

I'm in the giftshop now, but all I see is blacksploitation films and new underwear.
Not that I'm complaining.

Anyway, I'm sorry. That sucks, all the way around...but to quote the poet J-Lo, love don't cost a thing.

freakgirl said...

Moving out with one day's notice = no class.

Sorry your day sucked.

thombeau said...

Oh, honey. Been there, been there, and been there. I feel your pain!

(This, too, shall pass.)

BIG HUGS TO YOU!!!!!!

Quatrefoil said...

I just got paid - happy to lend you money for the weekend.

yani said...

Awwwwww *bloodybuggerbitch*

I'm sending you much virtual hand-pattage, cyber chocolates and web-based beer...

May her hair turn green, her essays come back marked "Fail" and her knitting come out lumpy... :)

worldpeace and a speedboat said...

I can drop some $$$ round this arvo (fri) if you so desire. always have a small stash in case the revolution comes, brother ;-)

off to market day tomorrow to flog shirts n bags n teatowels - the design is a late 16C wine cistern. I've christened it the Renaissance esky... heh. anything you want picked up? the tavern mugs are a lovely browny black. and there's tavern dice with the salty bint as the '1'.

mrpeenee said...

Jesus With a Cramp, what a bitch. I'd break at least one of her knees so she could see what a real commute is. Sign her up at her new address for every nasty lesbian porn magazine you can find. That ought to be eye opening for her new flatmate.

Georg said...

Since it's Easter and the weather is SHIT [here in Europe but also in Sydney], enjoy the comfy of your bed with a good book and/or some music.

That's something I'm planning to do, between walks with the dog.

Michael said...

You sure do have all the luck with flatmates, don't you, pumpkin? Sorry.

Take a page from what Anne Bancroft teaches Bridget Fonda in that classic remake of La Femme Nikita, Point of No Return. Keep your head up, flash a placid grin, and say, "I never did mind about the little things." You can also use this when people are tortured or shot. FYI.

::cue Nina Simone::

The Other Andrew said...

Thanks for the messages of support everyone!

(Speedy & Quatrefoil, thanks for the sweet offers, I had a quiet day at home yesterday and it saved me some $$s so I should be able to get by. Thanks for the kind offers!)

Michael Guy said...

I have a burlap sack and a shovel. I doubt very much she'll be missed.

Just saying...

:: late to the party ::