powered by SignMyGuestbook.com

rue-madame's Diaryland Diary



A couple of weeks back, someone moved out of my studio building and left two things behind: a black plastic rack and a small metal countertop filing thingie.

At first, the two items were way down the hall, by the bay to the loading dock. I didn’t pay them much mind.

Last week, they migrated to just outside one of my neighbor’s studios. She put a note on the stack that said, “This isn’t mine!” then signed her name. A few days later, the neighbor across from her added her two cents, “It’s not mine either!”

Imagine my surprise when I arrived at work this morning to find the stack right in front of my door! The note that had been taped on top was gone.

I emailed TA and told him I was just going to take them out to the trashcan. How many times does this stack need to be moved (and identified as not belonging to anyone) before someone acts like a grownup?

Then I got this news from TA: “If you so much as put a finger on that stuff to lift it I will kick your ass.”

Awww, how cute.

My occupational therapist gave me a printout about joint protection, about learning to use my joints safely so as not to exacerbate the inflammation. So far, my joint protection technique has consisted of having TA do everything. Can’t lift something? TA will do it for you. Can’t open this jar? TA will do it. Having trouble with covers at 3:27 am? TA will straighten them out AND snuggle. It’s like he’s My Bodyguard with benefits!

He is always after me, yelling “Stop it!” or “What do you think you’re doing?” or “Why don’t you have me to do that?” Learning to ask for help is going to be the big challenge of joint protection (not that I won’t heed the actual joint protection suggestions such as “Stop! Relax! Stretch!” and “Move smoothly and efficiently”) I hate feeling helpless but asking for help and being careful will go a long way towards preserving joint function and preventing scary hideous deformities. I won’t even link to them because they are so fucking sick.

Ooh, I just used the f-word and you know what that reminds me of? Last night’s episode of Blow Out where there was –bleepin’!- so much –bleepin’!- cussing it was –bleepin’!- incredible, -bleepin’!- A right! The scenes between Jonathan and the creative dude were the best, mostly because I wanted to reach through the tv and rip out the creative dude’s throat. He’s a designer? How can he have a job when he acts like a total asshole? Or is his arrogant jerk schtick just for tv? Who talks to a client like that? He was beyond disrespectful. I would have fired him on the spot. And the work that he’s been presenting has been total bullshit. Those shampoo bottles were just the Clinique hair line ones but clear. Big deal.

Anyway enough about my poor health and the tv I use to treat it. Let’s talk about how excited I am to go to Montreal tomorrow. I am excited? You bet I am!

4:24 p.m. - 2005-06-29



previous - next

latest entry

about me





roll the dice

other diaries: