The window cleaner whose arrival interrupted my posting of something which may have been unwise this morning may have been doing God's work in that, but he jolly well hasn't had a very noticeable effect on the windows. Admittedly the ones round the back haven't had a visit for a while as he has come when I couldn't let him in to the garden, but there are still bird droppings, snail trails and patches of algae - and I can't reach the second floor very easily myself (US third floor).
When I was a kid one of the comics I read had a series of stories about Ant 101 and his adventures. We didn't have them in my area, so I was quite well disposed towards them until I moved to a place where they were common, which changed my mind.
A couple of years ago I re-potted a mini rose that had a ant nest, which explained why the rose was failing to thrive.
TICTH the chuffing relief bus driver who was late for his shift, causing me to have to change to a bus that only went a third of the way along Princes Street.
For once, I'd managed to get away from work in time to catch an earlier bus, and then that happens, so I'm on the same train I'd have been on anyway.
The drivers in this county staged a sick-out last week. No buses at all.
I'm generally a supporter of unions, so I'll CTH the bus district who have seen this coming (the drivers had been working without a contract for quite a while) but kept kicking the can down the road, hoping that something would turn up.
I assume a *sick-out* is when all, or nearly all, the drivers call in sick, and say that they have to take time off. What one might call *diplomatic illness*, I suppose.
IOW, a strike in all but name, and understandable under the circumstances @basso mentions.
The porridge oats that boiled over and made a mess of the inside of the microwave! I had been meaning to make some proper porridge for some time, had bought the correct, originalScotch porridge oats, read the instructions on my CCTV ... well I thought I had. My talking weighing scales helped me to put 40g of oats inan open, as per instructions, microwaveble bowl (original Tupperwave actually) add 225 ml of water and milk, stir and cook for 3.5 minutes. Well it tasted all right but I re-read the instructions and it said 275 ml of liquid.
Was that the mistake, do you think? All ideas welcomed!
I microwave porridge in a huge bowl with a lid (plate on top) and still set the timer to shorter than I expect it to need, so 2mins, stir, add another 30s, stir, etc, because boiling over everywhere happens even with care.
I have a special porridge bowl with a special lid for the microwave, but it does not take much less time than a saucepan. (Actually, I now use pots of the stuff with boiling water from the kettle in my bedroom, and can say that Scotts, with the hammer throwing kilted guy most resembles proper porage - finer particles.) I had some explosions at school, and gave up there.
Having been made to eat porridge in the winter as a child, there are no words for how much I hate it, and I have very little sympathy for anyone (or their microwave) suffering porridge-related injuries.
It is just as easy, if not more so, to make porridge in a pan, and takes no longer than in the microwave. I put it on, then give it a very occasional stir while I get the rest of breakfast on the table, and in three minutes it is done.
As I am Feeling Delicate (aka fit of the runs) this evening, dinner was one of those sachets of flavoured porridge that you microwave with a measured amount of milk. I know to put it in a large, shallow bowl.
Local surgery.
No answer on phone.
Round to the place. No slots. "Go to walk in centre in nearby town." Check registration - no trace. Collect papers to apply again.
Go to WICINT. Nowhere proper to park as patient car park closed. He goes in, I find space and wait from about 11 to about 4. (John Barton's History of the Bible occupies some of time - reached the prophets.)
He is triaged. Gout?
They cannot deal with him properly as he is not registered and has no number. But issue script anyway.
Mention frequency of visits from local surgery.
Home to collect utility bill in his name.
Chemists.
Fill out forms.
Surgery again. Take time explaining about problem and previous submission on April 1st.
Receptionist puts forms into chest on floor and closes lid.
Chemists. Anticipated problem in dispensing script no problem.
I think this receptionist may have spotted that there may be checking up sooner this time. She said she will be looking into it.
I'm puzzled by why your friend is having such a faff.
When I moved back to Scotland last year, having not lived in the UK since 2003, I went to my sister's doctor, registered with them despite having no utility bill (I was staying with my sister), and was able to see a doctor a few days later.
TICTH the large proportion of passengers on a pretty full bus who were not wearing masks, despite it still being mandatory in Wales. Although some were children (who don't have to wear masks), there was more than a fair sprinkling of teens, young mums and older people. They can't all have been exempt; and none had a sunflower lanyard.
The bus didn't have many openable windows and I didn't feel at all comfortable. I really should have got off and waited for the next one as we have a frequent service.
We put the original form in on April 1st. They had previously been reluctant as he had been living in Sarf Lun'non and should be registered there, they said. He hadn't been since a child, which hasn't helped, but according the gov "how to register" download, that should not have been a problem.
If they'd had a problem with the previous form, they should have got in touch.
Apparently at the WICINT it was almost like US places, no treatment until we see your credit card, only his number, his surgery... But they relented.
TICTH my experience in trying to obtain a "handicapped" parking placard. I saw my doctor on Wednesday and he filled out the paperwork. I took the paperwork to the Department of Motor Vehicles today. They said it was incorrectly filled out, and I would have to take it back to the doctor. The doctor's office said he was busy with a patient, but he would be given the papers when he was free, and they would text me. I sat in the car in the parking lot from 10:45 until 1PM. I had asked at intervals how long it would be, and was told that he was still busy. At 1 I was told he had gone to lunch.They told me they would text me when the paperwork was done, and they did text me at 3:30. I have it now, but I can't go to the DMV until Monday.
I like my doctor very much, but this runaround was infuriating.
Keys. Also wallets, glasses, driver's license, and the innumerable other objects my husband has misplaced this summer (once in O'Hare Airport just before a flight. That was fun!).
We are presently in possession of three cars and one house. We have a single key that opens the house, as well as a single key that opens one car. The two others are for all intents and purposes bricks, until we can figure out where Mr. Lamb put his keyring this afternoon.
Guess who's taking my keys and my car tomorrow, leaving me stranded? If he loses THAT set.... grrrrrrrr.
I can lose anything. Absolutely anything. I can be fixing something and lose an electrical screwdriver while I'm doing it. Loosen screw, move wire out of way - screwdriver gone.
You need a pet orang. Rumour has it that workmen have to take particular care of their screwdrivers and count them all in and count them all out when working on the orangs' enclosures. One of those, and you'd know where to look.
I can lose anything. Absolutely anything. I can be fixing something and lose an electrical screwdriver while I'm doing it. Loosen screw, move wire out of way - screwdriver gone.
May you lose any fecking covid cough you might be afflicted with. Amen.
I share Karl's superpower for losing things which is why I have a pay as you go phone as well as my usual one (so I can ring to locate it ). I don't allow myself to take my hearing aids out unless I am standing beside the cupboard they live in when not behind my ears and I have 4 sets of house keys, one of which is tied to my backpack and one that I can't currently find.
I have permanently mislaid my library card, but after I discovered that here anyone can use a lost card without using a PIN and the card owner is responsible for things borrowed, I memorised the number and input it manually along with the PIN.
Mr. Image once said to me, " You could lose a bowling ball in a bathtub." I am now much better as I am in charge of all things. I do have backup keys to everything, and always keep my cell phone in the same place, well almost always.
I once lost my mobile phone, and even though we rang it, there was no answe-ring, I was absolutely sure it was in the house somewhere, but that still leaves a lot of places to look.
Eventually we ran it to ground in the pantry - for some unfathomable reason I had laid it face-up (so black) on a packet of biscuits, and Mr S had then covered it with a second packet. All the sound was also turned off...
Normally I would do everything in my power to keep Mr S from knowing that I'd mislaid anything at all, as he then won't rest until he has located it (the worst being a Lego broom in a large gite in France!) but the phone was rather different.
Visiting nurse who said she would arrive between 9 and 12 Saturday. Did not go with a friend at 10 for a brief outing in the neighborhood so I would be home. Calls at 2:30 and says, " I am running a bit behind, I will be there around 3. Arrived at 3:20. I do not mind so much that she was 3 hours and 20 minutes late, but I do mind she did not call earlier.
Who chose him? The congregation? A bishop? Are there going to be others who leave? I foresee more than you needing support.
How did he get through the selection process for ordination? Did his mates from the NRA turn up?
Are you sure it was his Facebook page and it wasn't hacked?
It seems an unbelievable collection of attachments.
I think the Vestry chose him. And yes, it's his actual page...
I think the new church (which is actually one we went to years ago) will be good. I've been back several times, and they've decided (given circumstances here in the US and especially here in Florida) to go back to requiring masks and social distancing during services, which I think is a very good sign. The other one, with the icky new priest, just started having breakfasts after services again. (I don't know how to do emojis on the new boards, but just picture "head against brick wall" here.)
The computer of choice in Hell must be the ipad. My Dear Wife has had one for some years, but its operating system is incapable of being updated so it can run quite commonplace apps. In an unusual fit of generosity I went quite mad and bought a brand new one for her birthday. It opens with an instruction on how to transfer data by WiFi from the old one, and then crashes irredeemably when you try it. It took over two hours on the phone with multiple calls to and from the Apple people to see if we could turn their lemon back into an apple, but with no luck. Their final contribution was to make us an appointment at an Apple store in another town tomorrow. More later, if I am still in possession of my mind - a tenuous hope at the best of times.
Inadequate disabled access rooms. In particular, the one I’m sitting in right now, which claims to have disabled facilities - fair play, the bathroom does have toilet rails and a walk in shower - but as there is barely enough room to thread my way in in my wheelchair, it’s not really disabled friendly. So much so, we have managed to get an accessible room in a Travelodge and are moving on for the rest of the week.
Curse of my life. For some reason I'm capable of putting something down and having no memory whatsoever of having done so.
Yes, a thousand times this. I have no idea how it's possible to lose a screwdriver on a small table containing roughly three objects, but I manage it on a regular basis. It usually turns out that I decided to tuck it safely away out of the way on the floor, or the chair, or some vaguely adjacent shelf, and then promptly forgot whatever stupid reason I had for not just putting it on the table.
iPad continued.... Took it to the Apple store, had it reset to factory condition and received instructions on how to set it up, which had to be done at home. It didn't work. Another hour (almost) on the phone with Apple and finally I said, "What if we just set it up as a new one without the old one?" "Good idea," said the representative or the all-knowing worldwide technology colossus. And yea, in less than five minutes everything worked perfectly.
Well. In the continuing key-less emergency, my husband arose early in the morning, meaning to be helpful (choke*gurgle*COUGH) by first of all, removing my two keepsake/junk drawers from my dresser altogether, putting them on the bed, and pawing through my breakables (including shell jewellery, very fragile gold earrings, etc. saying, "Oh wow, look at this!" as he dangled it over a minefield of smashables. Chased off, with oaths, he removed himself to attack my son's desk, sitting on the floor in front of it and tossing various items over his shoulder as he burrowed into the mess of manuscripts, books, and office equipment (grrrrr), creating a debris field 8 feet by 10 before we managed to stop him (temporarily). I sidled up to my son and made urgent suggestions on various fake errands he could drag his father to, while I cleaned up the shit. Ah, blessed peace. We are still living in a debris field, but five hours of hard work has established that the keys are not there, which has removed Mr. Lamb's interest in the area (leaving us to handle reconstruction).
I have a dark, sneaking suspicion that God has decided our house is a pit and will not render up the missing keys until various hellholes (such as the desk) are forcibly cleaned up, as in the above devilish manner. I live in fear of what the infernal regions may suggest next to his ingenuity. There can't be much left... Grrrr.
What I do when putting things down or in a place out of sight for some reason is to say quite clearly out loud what I am doing, to establish a separate memory of sound and the feel in my mouth. Sort of like commentary driving.
What I do when putting things down or in a place out of sight for some reason is to say quite clearly out loud what I am doing, to establish a separate memory of sound and the feel in my mouth. Sort of like commentary driving.
Unfortunately if I could remember to do that, I'd probably remember where I was putting things down. I don't consciously put things down anyway; it just happens when I need a hand for something else.
Comments
Entirely silent. But the floors was covered with shed wings by the end.
When I was a kid one of the comics I read had a series of stories about Ant 101 and his adventures. We didn't have them in my area, so I was quite well disposed towards them until I moved to a place where they were common, which changed my mind.
A couple of years ago I re-potted a mini rose that had a ant nest, which explained why the rose was failing to thrive.
For once, I'd managed to get away from work in time to catch an earlier bus, and then that happens, so I'm on the same train I'd have been on anyway.
F*ckity f*ck.
I was on a bus last week which crawled because the driver was finishing his shift. Strangely we left the change-over point late and still crawled!
I'm generally a supporter of unions, so I'll CTH the bus district who have seen this coming (the drivers had been working without a contract for quite a while) but kept kicking the can down the road, hoping that something would turn up.
IOW, a strike in all but name, and understandable under the circumstances @basso mentions.
Was that the mistake, do you think? All ideas welcomed!
I might ring up the makers and see what they have to say!
Sorry about that.
As sweet, characterless pap goes, it's fine.
Beans, you reckon?
Never had bean problems.
No answer on phone.
Round to the place. No slots. "Go to walk in centre in nearby town." Check registration - no trace. Collect papers to apply again.
Go to WICINT. Nowhere proper to park as patient car park closed. He goes in, I find space and wait from about 11 to about 4. (John Barton's History of the Bible occupies some of time - reached the prophets.)
He is triaged. Gout?
They cannot deal with him properly as he is not registered and has no number. But issue script anyway.
Mention frequency of visits from local surgery.
Home to collect utility bill in his name.
Chemists.
Fill out forms.
Surgery again. Take time explaining about problem and previous submission on April 1st.
Receptionist puts forms into chest on floor and closes lid.
Chemists. Anticipated problem in dispensing script no problem.
I think this receptionist may have spotted that there may be checking up sooner this time. She said she will be looking into it.
When I moved back to Scotland last year, having not lived in the UK since 2003, I went to my sister's doctor, registered with them despite having no utility bill (I was staying with my sister), and was able to see a doctor a few days later.
The bus didn't have many openable windows and I didn't feel at all comfortable. I really should have got off and waited for the next one as we have a frequent service.
If they'd had a problem with the previous form, they should have got in touch.
Apparently at the WICINT it was almost like US places, no treatment until we see your credit card, only his number, his surgery... But they relented.
I like my doctor very much, but this runaround was infuriating.
We are presently in possession of three cars and one house. We have a single key that opens the house, as well as a single key that opens one car. The two others are for all intents and purposes bricks, until we can figure out where Mr. Lamb put his keyring this afternoon.
Guess who's taking my keys and my car tomorrow, leaving me stranded? If he loses THAT set.... grrrrrrrr.
Losing a screw is commonplace - losing a tool shows real class...
🙇♂️
Curse of my life. For some reason I'm capable of putting something down and having no memory whatsoever of having done so.
May you lose any fecking covid cough you might be afflicted with. Amen.
I have permanently mislaid my library card, but after I discovered that here anyone can use a lost card without using a PIN and the card owner is responsible for things borrowed, I memorised the number and input it manually along with the PIN.
Eventually we ran it to ground in the pantry - for some unfathomable reason I had laid it face-up (so black) on a packet of biscuits, and Mr S had then covered it with a second packet. All the sound was also turned off...
Normally I would do everything in my power to keep Mr S from knowing that I'd mislaid anything at all, as he then won't rest until he has located it (the worst being a Lego broom in a large gite in France!) but the phone was rather different.
I think the Vestry chose him. And yes, it's his actual page...
Yes, a thousand times this. I have no idea how it's possible to lose a screwdriver on a small table containing roughly three objects, but I manage it on a regular basis. It usually turns out that I decided to tuck it safely away out of the way on the floor, or the chair, or some vaguely adjacent shelf, and then promptly forgot whatever stupid reason I had for not just putting it on the table.
I have a dark, sneaking suspicion that God has decided our house is a pit and will not render up the missing keys until various hellholes (such as the desk) are forcibly cleaned up, as in the above devilish manner. I live in fear of what the infernal regions may suggest next to his ingenuity. There can't be much left... Grrrr.
The next likely cause of a clean house is "I couldn't find xyz"
Unfortunately if I could remember to do that, I'd probably remember where I was putting things down. I don't consciously put things down anyway; it just happens when I need a hand for something else.