Hello Readers,
I am heading up to MA for the rest of the week and through the weekend to shop at outlets, see family, see friends, eat burritos, sing Christmas carols, see new houses, possibly bowl!, and hear Sister play some music. It is going to be awshummmm.
Until next week....
Sincerely,
Leah Lar
p.s. I got two great submissions for the Christmas Carol contest but did not receive them in enough time to work on them last weekend. Which means I will work on them next week and weekend. So if you have an idea, send it my way!
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Assumed Incompetence
I went for a physical a few weeks ago.
The doctor said "Why don't we do bloodwork? Just to make sure everything is ok, make sure you're not deficient in anything since you're a vegetarian."
Cool.
In New York, you do not have bloodwork at the place that is demanding the bloodwork. You have to go to a "collection facility," at your convenience, have them send it to a lab, and then have the lab send it to your doctor.
I procrastinated, of course, because, well, getting blood taken isn't pleasant and because getting to a place that will draw blood isn't convenient. Transit time to the closest facility is an hour, plus unpredictable amount of waiting, so it wasn't something I could do unless I had a big block of time during work or if I got up early enough before work.
In the meantime, I went to another doctor's appointment. Dr. #2 needed bloodwork but for something different entirely and therefore ordered a set of different tests.
Sweet! I was very satisfied that I'd procrastinated and promptly went to have blood drawn after the second appointment.
I knew it would be complicated. I knew that the people at the facility would be unable to comprehend that the results had to be sent to two different doctors.
The woman behind the desk said that it wouldn't be a problem and had me fill out the form. After filling out the form, I went back to the desk and said "Perhaps I should fill out two forms?"
"Oh, yes, good idea."
The forms were filled out, a ton of blood was taken, and over a week later I hadn't heard from either doctor.
I called Dr. #2 and they said "No, we've gotten nothing. We should have gotten it by now if you did this last Monday."
I called The Lab, and they said "Oh, we faxed it to Dr. #2 at this fax number."
The fax number, of course, was the fax number for Dr. #1.
"Oh, no, that's the wrong fax number. That's my primary care."
"Oh, well, we didn't have a fax number for Dr. #2 so we just sent it there."
Of course. Instead of calling me and asking me for the fax number, they faxed the results to an arbitrary doctor.
It then occurred to me that perhaps Dr. #1 didn't receive what she was supposed to receive, since she got the tests for Dr. #2.
I called Dr. #1's office and, of course, they'd received nothing.
Of course.
Because people are incompetent.
This is not complicated.
I went in, had blood taken, and the results of tests are supposed to be sent to doctors.
But neither doctor would have gotten anything had I not called.
I mention this because I knew it would happen this way.
And I hate that I knew, because it only reinforces my negativity about the world and people.
This being said, I had a very nice experience yesterday involving people.
I haven't eaten at one of my favorite lunch spots in quite some time because a scene played out there about a month ago and I was terribly distraught.
I was paranoid about going back. The embarrassment didn't go away. "They won't remember," he said. "I think they will," I said.
I finally went back yesterday, because, dammit, I wanted a sandwich!
I walked in, ordered my sandwich, and when I got to the cash register, The Manager said "Oh! I thought you were never coming back!"
I said "I was terribly embarrassed."
The Manager explained himself. I said "Look, I'm on your side. I've been on your side the whole time. I understand."
"Well, I'm glad you're back. Really. I'm happy you came back."
This reinforced/confirmed my paranoia, but my paranoia didn't matter because The Manager was nice to me.
I don't know what my point is.
I guess the moral of the story is that it is best to assume the worst, because you will then be prepared for incompetence and pleasantly surprised when things turn out nicely.
The doctor said "Why don't we do bloodwork? Just to make sure everything is ok, make sure you're not deficient in anything since you're a vegetarian."
Cool.
In New York, you do not have bloodwork at the place that is demanding the bloodwork. You have to go to a "collection facility," at your convenience, have them send it to a lab, and then have the lab send it to your doctor.
I procrastinated, of course, because, well, getting blood taken isn't pleasant and because getting to a place that will draw blood isn't convenient. Transit time to the closest facility is an hour, plus unpredictable amount of waiting, so it wasn't something I could do unless I had a big block of time during work or if I got up early enough before work.
In the meantime, I went to another doctor's appointment. Dr. #2 needed bloodwork but for something different entirely and therefore ordered a set of different tests.
Sweet! I was very satisfied that I'd procrastinated and promptly went to have blood drawn after the second appointment.
I knew it would be complicated. I knew that the people at the facility would be unable to comprehend that the results had to be sent to two different doctors.
The woman behind the desk said that it wouldn't be a problem and had me fill out the form. After filling out the form, I went back to the desk and said "Perhaps I should fill out two forms?"
"Oh, yes, good idea."
The forms were filled out, a ton of blood was taken, and over a week later I hadn't heard from either doctor.
I called Dr. #2 and they said "No, we've gotten nothing. We should have gotten it by now if you did this last Monday."
I called The Lab, and they said "Oh, we faxed it to Dr. #2 at this fax number."
The fax number, of course, was the fax number for Dr. #1.
"Oh, no, that's the wrong fax number. That's my primary care."
"Oh, well, we didn't have a fax number for Dr. #2 so we just sent it there."
Of course. Instead of calling me and asking me for the fax number, they faxed the results to an arbitrary doctor.
It then occurred to me that perhaps Dr. #1 didn't receive what she was supposed to receive, since she got the tests for Dr. #2.
I called Dr. #1's office and, of course, they'd received nothing.
Of course.
Because people are incompetent.
This is not complicated.
I went in, had blood taken, and the results of tests are supposed to be sent to doctors.
But neither doctor would have gotten anything had I not called.
I mention this because I knew it would happen this way.
And I hate that I knew, because it only reinforces my negativity about the world and people.
This being said, I had a very nice experience yesterday involving people.
I haven't eaten at one of my favorite lunch spots in quite some time because a scene played out there about a month ago and I was terribly distraught.
I was paranoid about going back. The embarrassment didn't go away. "They won't remember," he said. "I think they will," I said.
I finally went back yesterday, because, dammit, I wanted a sandwich!
I walked in, ordered my sandwich, and when I got to the cash register, The Manager said "Oh! I thought you were never coming back!"
I said "I was terribly embarrassed."
The Manager explained himself. I said "Look, I'm on your side. I've been on your side the whole time. I understand."
"Well, I'm glad you're back. Really. I'm happy you came back."
This reinforced/confirmed my paranoia, but my paranoia didn't matter because The Manager was nice to me.
I don't know what my point is.
I guess the moral of the story is that it is best to assume the worst, because you will then be prepared for incompetence and pleasantly surprised when things turn out nicely.
Candid Camera
The snow season has begun.
I awoke this morning, giddy, hoping to see the predicted 3 - 5 inches of snow draped over the city. There was, of course, nothing. It snowed a bit, but not enough to cause more than an inch accumulation on non-street surfaces.
I dined with my friend DC last night, a friend I haven't seen nor spoken with in three years. It always makes me happy when people find me. I'm the sort of person who, years later, will think "What ever happened to so-and-so?" I will then compose an awkward email, inquiring as to the status of their life, unsure of whether they want to hear from me, consistently fearful of being cyber-rejected.
"Remember me? I was the girl you dumped because I wanted something serious even though I didn't actually want something serious. How are you? Want to get a drink some time?"
DC had initiated an awkward email relationship. Things were eventually sorted out and we are now, apparently, friends again.
We had dinner at this cute Italian place in Union Square that gives you free bruschetta! We split a bottle of wine over some shocking news from DC, even though I'd capped my consumption at one glass given the flu I can't quite shake.
Seated behind us were a bunch of girlish girls. They were wearing patterned sweaters and weighing the pros and cons of stackable vs. floor washers and dryers based on towel-loading capacity. One girl exclaimed rather loudly "Look at the snow!"
The entire restaurant turned around in response. I looked out the window. I didn't see any snow.
"Sorry," I said. "I was just looking out the window to see the snow, since that girl just said something about snow."
"Yeah, I heard it," said DC.
"Huh."
A short time later, she said "It's really coming down now!" The other girls murmered in agreement.
I looked again, and still didn't see any snow.
"That girl seems really alarmed about the snow," I said.
About half an hour later she said "I'm sorry, guys, but its really getting bad out there. I better go. It's going to start accumulating soon!"
The other girls nodded in understanding, as the girl frantically gathered her belongings together and ran out.
I looked out the window again. Still no snow. "Dude, I don't know what that girl is talking about. I don't think its snowing."
"It's not," he said.
"Well, maybe because they're sitting at a different angle from the window..."
"It's not snowing."
"No, well, if I tilt my head this way... I think it is," I said, but no matter how you looked at it, it was not snowing enough to be frantic. "I think its doing the thing where its snowing sideways, and that's why we can't see it."
"Horizontal snow effect."
"Yeah, you know, like if we were out there we'd see it but we can't see it from here because against the buildings it camouflage and that, combined with the glare from the window makes it impossible to see. Right. No. It's not snowing."
"It's not snowing."
"Then what is her deal? Maybe we're on Candid Camera! It's some psychology experiment in group behavior and persuasion! They want to see if that girl will convince people that its snowing outside even though its not! It's one of those paranoia studies!"
"Uh huh."
"No, I think its snowing. Seriously. Like its just an angle that we can't see from here."
"It's not."
"When I talk to my parents (I had to call my parents post-dinner to coordinate a pick-up in MA tomorrow for my visit!) they are going to say 'Are you getting snow there?' and I will say 'Well, it depends who you ask.'"
"You will say 'Define snow.'"
"Heh. I think its snowing, though. They said it was going to snow."
"But its not."
When we exited the restaurant half an hour later, it was snowing. Minimally. A bit. Not even flurries. People just get nuts about snow.
The good news is that this sort of thing is good practice. A few years back I slipped on a patch of ice outside my apartment in Somerville, cartoon-slipping-on-a-banana-peel style, feet over head, landing on back, etc. I landed on my back, hit my face on the pavement, broke my glasses, and had a small cut on my face. I tried to get up, but because I was still on the patch of ice, I fell again, exactly the same way.
My body ached all week, and ruined me for the rest of time, as I am now convinced that I will meet my death while walking in the city during icy, snowy times.
This small snowfall allows me to identify potentially treacherous areas throughout the walking portion of my commute. Like last year, the walk from the subway to work is fine. Nothing sketchy.
Midtown, however, is another story. It is going to be a bad scene. I will have to be very alert and cautious when walking to and from my apartment.
Because I was being super aware this morning and staring at the ground, I averted stepping on a frozen mouse. Ewwww.... that has to be an omen for something.
The second snow, and not nearly as dramatic as promised. Oh well.
I awoke this morning, giddy, hoping to see the predicted 3 - 5 inches of snow draped over the city. There was, of course, nothing. It snowed a bit, but not enough to cause more than an inch accumulation on non-street surfaces.
I dined with my friend DC last night, a friend I haven't seen nor spoken with in three years. It always makes me happy when people find me. I'm the sort of person who, years later, will think "What ever happened to so-and-so?" I will then compose an awkward email, inquiring as to the status of their life, unsure of whether they want to hear from me, consistently fearful of being cyber-rejected.
"Remember me? I was the girl you dumped because I wanted something serious even though I didn't actually want something serious. How are you? Want to get a drink some time?"
DC had initiated an awkward email relationship. Things were eventually sorted out and we are now, apparently, friends again.
We had dinner at this cute Italian place in Union Square that gives you free bruschetta! We split a bottle of wine over some shocking news from DC, even though I'd capped my consumption at one glass given the flu I can't quite shake.
Seated behind us were a bunch of girlish girls. They were wearing patterned sweaters and weighing the pros and cons of stackable vs. floor washers and dryers based on towel-loading capacity. One girl exclaimed rather loudly "Look at the snow!"
The entire restaurant turned around in response. I looked out the window. I didn't see any snow.
"Sorry," I said. "I was just looking out the window to see the snow, since that girl just said something about snow."
"Yeah, I heard it," said DC.
"Huh."
A short time later, she said "It's really coming down now!" The other girls murmered in agreement.
I looked again, and still didn't see any snow.
"That girl seems really alarmed about the snow," I said.
About half an hour later she said "I'm sorry, guys, but its really getting bad out there. I better go. It's going to start accumulating soon!"
The other girls nodded in understanding, as the girl frantically gathered her belongings together and ran out.
I looked out the window again. Still no snow. "Dude, I don't know what that girl is talking about. I don't think its snowing."
"It's not," he said.
"Well, maybe because they're sitting at a different angle from the window..."
"It's not snowing."
"No, well, if I tilt my head this way... I think it is," I said, but no matter how you looked at it, it was not snowing enough to be frantic. "I think its doing the thing where its snowing sideways, and that's why we can't see it."
"Horizontal snow effect."
"Yeah, you know, like if we were out there we'd see it but we can't see it from here because against the buildings it camouflage and that, combined with the glare from the window makes it impossible to see. Right. No. It's not snowing."
"It's not snowing."
"Then what is her deal? Maybe we're on Candid Camera! It's some psychology experiment in group behavior and persuasion! They want to see if that girl will convince people that its snowing outside even though its not! It's one of those paranoia studies!"
"Uh huh."
"No, I think its snowing. Seriously. Like its just an angle that we can't see from here."
"It's not."
"When I talk to my parents (I had to call my parents post-dinner to coordinate a pick-up in MA tomorrow for my visit!) they are going to say 'Are you getting snow there?' and I will say 'Well, it depends who you ask.'"
"You will say 'Define snow.'"
"Heh. I think its snowing, though. They said it was going to snow."
"But its not."
When we exited the restaurant half an hour later, it was snowing. Minimally. A bit. Not even flurries. People just get nuts about snow.
The good news is that this sort of thing is good practice. A few years back I slipped on a patch of ice outside my apartment in Somerville, cartoon-slipping-on-a-banana-peel style, feet over head, landing on back, etc. I landed on my back, hit my face on the pavement, broke my glasses, and had a small cut on my face. I tried to get up, but because I was still on the patch of ice, I fell again, exactly the same way.
My body ached all week, and ruined me for the rest of time, as I am now convinced that I will meet my death while walking in the city during icy, snowy times.
This small snowfall allows me to identify potentially treacherous areas throughout the walking portion of my commute. Like last year, the walk from the subway to work is fine. Nothing sketchy.
Midtown, however, is another story. It is going to be a bad scene. I will have to be very alert and cautious when walking to and from my apartment.
Because I was being super aware this morning and staring at the ground, I averted stepping on a frozen mouse. Ewwww.... that has to be an omen for something.
The second snow, and not nearly as dramatic as promised. Oh well.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Sleep
I love sleep.
If I had my way, I'd sleep every day until noon.
Back in my youth, I would regularly sleep past noon on the weekends.
Adults would say "You're so lazy!"
They would also say "You're not going to be able to do that when you get older."
"No! I will always sleep late! No matter how much responsibility I have! I will produce and then raise children who also sleep late!"
"No, you won't physically be able to sleep late. It gets harder as you get older. You'll be up at 6am whether you like it or not."
"Whatever. That will never happen to me."
Hah.
These days I can, on occasion, sleep until 11 am.
But now, instead of wasting my weekends sleeping all day, I waste my weekends trying to sleep all day and being annoyed that I can't sleep.
This was of importance this weekend, as I am sick with a slight flu. The beginning of the flu was Thursday, so the crucial period coincided with the weekend. I thought "No problem! I will kick this flu's ass by sleeping all weekend!"
No such luck. Despite a late night at the company party on Friday (where, incidentally, there was no drama), I was up at 9:00 on Saturday morning. I got a coveted 8 hours on Saturday night, but it was frustrating since I went to bed at midnight and was then up at 8:00 on Sunday morning!
D said "But you got 8 hours!"
"No! The point of going to bed at midnight was to be able to get twelve hours."
I guess I'm getting old. I feared this. I wasn't entirely sure, but now that I have this crucial data point it's confirmed.
If I had my way, I'd sleep every day until noon.
Back in my youth, I would regularly sleep past noon on the weekends.
Adults would say "You're so lazy!"
They would also say "You're not going to be able to do that when you get older."
"No! I will always sleep late! No matter how much responsibility I have! I will produce and then raise children who also sleep late!"
"No, you won't physically be able to sleep late. It gets harder as you get older. You'll be up at 6am whether you like it or not."
"Whatever. That will never happen to me."
Hah.
These days I can, on occasion, sleep until 11 am.
But now, instead of wasting my weekends sleeping all day, I waste my weekends trying to sleep all day and being annoyed that I can't sleep.
This was of importance this weekend, as I am sick with a slight flu. The beginning of the flu was Thursday, so the crucial period coincided with the weekend. I thought "No problem! I will kick this flu's ass by sleeping all weekend!"
No such luck. Despite a late night at the company party on Friday (where, incidentally, there was no drama), I was up at 9:00 on Saturday morning. I got a coveted 8 hours on Saturday night, but it was frustrating since I went to bed at midnight and was then up at 8:00 on Sunday morning!
D said "But you got 8 hours!"
"No! The point of going to bed at midnight was to be able to get twelve hours."
I guess I'm getting old. I feared this. I wasn't entirely sure, but now that I have this crucial data point it's confirmed.
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