Jeez, Tep-- your body and the Universe need to just lay the fuck off NOW.

I just spent an entertaining two hours after a panicked phone call from Lewis. Turns out no one had gone to the bank for change either yesterday or this morning, so they were running short on ones and quarters. On the last shopping Saturday before Christmas? Not Good.

And by the time he called, even the Saturday banks had closed, but if I do say so myself, this is the type of situation in which I tend to do well. I told him to a) calm the fuck down and b) I'd take care of it. So I went to the ATM, took out the money needed (he works over 45 minutes away, so it's not like I could go to his store first) and went up to our local Publix, which has a money center where they cash checks and make money orders and send wire transfers. I figured they'd have the cash I needed and they did, God love 'em.

Got it, braved the holiday traffic and zipped the change up to Lewis.

He owes me chocolate esp. since the Communists have invaded and it's of the horrible, back breaking cramps variety.

Seriously owes me chocolate.

Ugh, my right arm is sore- sore in a way that makes me feel almost... nauseous? I probably just slept on it wrong but it's really annoying and weirdly hurty.

Snowy outside, mac & cheese in the oven, beer in the fridge, and I've become one with the couch- otherwise things are pretty good!

I had mac & cheese (and corn on the cob) for lunch. When the guy who took my order seemed confused I told him I'm only eating yellow things today.

Go, Barb, with your problem-solving skills.

Nora, vertebrae out of whack somewhere, pinching nerves? Cuz if you said that it was your leg hurting like that, I'd be saying, "sciatica?" Anyway, I hope you find a resolution to the hurty.

Laga, mac&cheese sounds perfect.

I'm a bit peckish after shoveling the front walk. And talking with my mom on the phone for an hour. And dealing with Harvey the velcro cat.

Oh, Tep, I know exactly how that feels (only, I only had myself to blame, cause mine was a hangover, I think...though since I still felt icky two days later, I kinda wonder....). You poor thing.

I was thinking about you while I was in the ER -- my memory dredged up your post about having such a bad hangover/stomach woes that you thought about going to the ER.

I've heard that there's a vicious stomach virus going around. The person who posted about it on LJ said she threw up so hard that it hurt to breathe.

Someone in my office sent around a forwarded e-mail about a nasty stomach virus. Part of me believes that my body manifested it just by reading the e-mail.

Tep, STOP HAVING TO GO TO THE ER. That's my gig, and I'm willing to take the hit for all the Bitches.

I told The Boy, when we left the hospital today, "So, I'm thinking NEXT Saturday, we NOT go to the hospital! What do you think?"

Him: "Well, you *are* getting kind of repetitive -- maybe an Urgent Care clinic."

Tep, STOP HAVING TO GO TO THE ER. That's my gig, and I'm willing to take the hit for all the Bitches.

See, I don't think ita should be bogarting all the ER trips. I think we should let some none-Buffistas have some quality ER time instead. Which reminds me - ita, are you feeling any better?

I really can't believe your bad luck, Tep. But yay for The Boy, who is an excellent example of much merited good luck.

The Boy is funny.

ACTUAL Snopocalypse on Thursday was kinda cool, but it's Saturday now, and still really cold, and nobody here bothers to like, SHOVEL or anything.

Well, none of us *own* snow shovels. I don't even know if our hardware stores carry them.

The Boy is funny.

Last week -- I posted this in LJ -- we were snuggled up in bed (not a euphemism, since my tremendous back PAINPAINPAIN ruled out anything remotely resembling sex), and I said, "Jesus, the past 6 months have been so fucked up for us -- you had abdominal surgery, and I had inexplicable stomach badness, that weird-ass vertigo, panic attacks, and now this back problem. What's next?"

Him: "We'll probably give birth to a cute little teratoma we can call our own."

Teratoma out of the blue!!!

After I finished laughing, I said, "Even though it will be hideous, it'll be our hideous teratoma baby."

Him: "You can tell me its one tooth looks just like mine!"

Me: "And its tuft of hair looks just like mine!"

FREAKS. The both of us.

That needs to be COMMed, but ... I don't even remember any more, how many threads back the last teratoma appeared, for maximum contextual hilarity.

Which reminds me - ita, are you feeling any better?

Not much. I think the last procedure has worn off. Still, I'm to get a much more permanent (this time they'll kill instead of numb) nerve treatment in the new year. Can't wait. Today is a particularly bad head day.