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rue-madame's Diaryland Diary

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Falling apart

I had kind of a crap day yesterday. I’m not sure why. I was all set to plug away at my taxes, organize my filing with the new sexy file cabinets, go to the rec center to run, but then I did none of those things.

The surgeon’s office called to tell me my surgery date.

First the assistant complained that she’d been calling my home number (which I’d put down as the mobile phone, a phone that I didn’t have with me because Terence had it and he gets no reception in his cave/office so he never heard it ringing) “so I thought I’d try your work number (which is the home number. Still with me, here?) Yeah, it’s Thursday at 1pm--why wouldn’t you be calling me at work?

“The surgery is this Monday,” the assistant said. I guess I don’t get any say. I asked if there were alternative surgery dates, and the assistant behaved in what I now understand to be the patented “Connecticut Asshole Way” by acting all put-upon and annoyed with me. Forgive if me if I’m being too demanding by wondering if I get a voice in the matter. Is this not MY surgery we are talking about? I know the surgeon is very busy and important, but shit, so am I (sometimes.) I mean, I’ve barely wrapped my brain around the idea that I have to have an operation on MY ASS, lady! And now I get 3-4 days’ notice that I have to be on an all-liquid, “no Motrin for two weeks prior,” drink this bottle of Magnesium Citrate diet?

“You did say ‘as soon as possible.’”

“I said ‘soon.’”

What? So now’s she’s admonishing me? What the fuck?

She said the doctor might have a date in August, but if it went beyond 30-days from the time of my first appointment, I’d have to have another consultation before scheduling surgery. So now it’s FUCKING BLACKMAIL?

I was so mad and upset. I just wanted to scream at her that I’d waited an hour to see the fucking doctor, and was I going to be credited that time? He did say 10 am, didn’t he? So why did I not see him until 11? I hung up the phone and called Terence and he said they were all jerks, the lot of them.

People from Massachusetts are derogatorily called Mass-holes in this part of the country. Hell, I’ve been known to say it when I see an MA-plated car being driven by a senseless jackass. But no more. I say people from Connecticut should henceforth be referred to as Connard-icuts.

Anyway, I hauled my pathetic person to bed for a nap and some Reading Lolita in Tehran. Nothing like being absorbed in the Iranian Revolution to put things in perspective. Boy, I have it so good here!

Looking into real estate in Paris cheered me up. Mlle Culotte is right: I shouldn’t buy property here. I should just continue saving my money and move back to Paris. That cheered me up (and also the thought of visiting her in her 10-room chateau.)

The other thing that cheered me up is that Terence came home early. He knew I was bummed out. He plopped down next to me on the bed, kissed me and told me things would be ok. As childish as that sounds, it made me feel a lot better. Then he took me to dinner and I had a giant cocktail, a yummy salad and mushroom pizza.

Never underestimate the redemptive powers of a Ketel One and Tonic.

8:57 a.m. - 2004-07-16

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