Let me do some Bob bitching before I get into the latest shit with the doctors. I swear that guy has become the Jesse of the park minus the mutts and motorcycle! That damn cock was definitely what some would classify as “noisy” yesterday and I don’t care that it was daytime or how much of a right he may have. Over 3 hours of sawing and hammering his little birdie house was a seriously annoying thing to have to listen to just outside our windows. We didn’t come here to listen to such insanely loud tools and machinery being used which seems to be more often lately. The landscapers are bad enough. I don’t need him on top of it all, especially so close to the house. So much for Virginia telling me air pumps for the bike tires would be “all I’d hear.” Maybe I should be like some of my friends who aren’t so quick to believe what others tell them. Not those close to me that I know well, of course, but it just fucking figures that I should get stuck with this shit, even if that mutt in back would be way worse. The few quiet neighbors I’ve ever had always seem to get progressively noisier, and this guy isn’t going to slow down anytime soon. As past experience taught me, no use in saying anything to them. They’ll simply say they’re oh so sorry to bother me… ah, but they do have a right to play workshop during daytime hours, and technically they do no matter how much I have to be the one to deal with it. If it becomes an everyday thing, then you bet I’ll say something. Gosh, I would hope they’d never become that rude and inconsiderate. 

As soon as today’s shit starts up I’ll crank up the tunes and let them hear me for once if they can even hear me at all over all that noise. I heard circular saws, I heard routers, I heard hammering, I heard heavy metallic items clinking that would fall on the ground… I heard it all. 

The first time I heard the racket it was in that same area behind the house where they were working on the street a couple of weeks ago that was also horrendously loud. They built a wood frame in which they’ll be back to pour concrete in and I’ll have to hear all about it, of course. 

Then when I heard it again, I walked to the front of the house and saw him in back of his garage sawing some shit on sawhorses. I asked what he was doing and he said he was making a birdhouse for his… I didn’t catch the rest of what he said. He waves to me on the streets when we’re out exercising but is otherwise not nearly as friendly as his wife. He never even cared to ask how I was, if the noise was bothering me… nothing. He just went right back to sawing, deep in his own little world. 

*sighs* It sucks that I once again have to arrange where I am in the house and what I do around what the neighbors do, but this is the way it’s going to be for me no matter where I live. I’m sure that when this birdhouse is done he will build a shelf for someone else, and then a bench for yet someone else, and so on and so forth. The only difference is that he’ll be out later in the day doing this shit as the weather cools down. If he’s this active in his 80s, I really hate to think of how he was in his 50s! 

Our solution is to check into something we want to get for me anyway. Tom said he forgot what they’re called but they’re a combination laptop/tablet that I could take anywhere around the house or even down to the clubhouse and pool if I wanted to. Then we might set this big Mac up in the laundry room and use the desk in the living room for the color laser printer and eventual 3D printer he wants to get. I’ve wanted to downgrade to a smaller screen so I can wear just my bifocals. I’d like to be able to turn away from the screen, glance out the window, and actually be able to see outside. My single visions are only for seeing close-ups, so the distance is even blurrier than without any glasses at all. 

Well, I guess this Bob bitchfest got a wee bit long, so I’ll cover the not-so-good doc in the next entry. 

Later… 

My rash appeared to spread, deepening from a red to a purplish color, and now it may actually be starting to fade, thank goodness! It’s been itchy as hell. 

Saw Bob trimming bushes in back of his place with pruning shears while I was cleaning the bedroom, and thought I heard some hammering, but if anything else is going on over there, I wouldn’t know it because I have the music cranked up. They’re landscaping across the street as they always do on Tuesdays, but that only goes on for about 20 minutes. 

I haven’t done much work or much story writing yet because I’ve been cleaning and doing dishes and laundry. Had to clean the rats’ burrow, too. Took out the recyclables and went for my bike ride. Always keeping busy. :) 

We need to replace my toilet for sure because a small trickle of water is leaking into the bowl. We want newer, smaller ones anyway that save on money and water. For now, Andy swears that a pumice stone will remove the stains without scratching the porcelain, so I’ll pick some up at Walmart this weekend. 

Ok, about Dr. D. Well, it’s simple. She’s an overbooked, compassionless, all-or-nothing doctor, and her staff is beyond disorganized and incompetent! I was told they could only see me yesterday morning, this morning, or at the end of December. No way Tom could get me there that soon. To think that so many doctors can only see me either right this second or in 3 or 4 months from now is utterly ridiculous. 

When I emailed Tom at work to let them know what they said, he said he’d call them, but the idiots did nothing but waste his time. He was forwarded from one person to another. Then after being on hold forever, he’s asked why he called that number. “I didn’t call this number. You forwarded me,” he told them before he finally gave up. 

So fuck it. We’ll get someone else. I just hope that they and their staff won’t be this bad. No wonder this shit doctor has horrible ratings. She sucks shit! If the next one’s the same then maybe I’m just not meant to treat my condition but to learn to live with it instead. Or at least treat it with natural, over-the-counter remedies. 

We don’t know yet if I’m going to keep the same primary care doctor, though I’d certainly like to. She’s very kind (and good-looking), but we’re not sure we agree with her urgency to get me into a shrink on account of my anxiety. My anxiety has never hindered my everyday living, and hey, what happened was a very scary experience. Anyone would have a mental block against taking medication for a while. I mean, I’ll see one if she insists – I wouldn’t be ashamed and I don’t see how it could harm me so long as they weren’t eager to drug me up just because it’d be easier – but to quote Tom, “You don’t need one. There’s nothing wrong with you. You just need to adjust your medication dose.” 

But while we have to scramble to find a doctor who’s hopefully more willing to work with me and who has a staff that knows what they’re doing, I can’t be on any medication. This means I’ve got myself on a low 1000-calorie diet since my body can’t burn fat/calories well right now and am avoiding cholesterol. Unlike those with a working metabolism who would keep losing on this diet, I should yo-yo within the same 5-pound range. The idea is to just keep me from gaining.