What a frustrating day so far! The bitch behind the honker was getting on my nerves running and gunning her motorcycle. Did she not read the rule book that says you’re not allowed to sit there revving engines?

Some other guy has been cruising up and down the park on a quieter motorcycle. And while it may be a quieter one, still, what have these places come to? I wish they were like they were in the 80s. I hate how they’ve become so mainstream. It makes you wonder what’s next. Letting kids live here? Allowing those with dogs to let them stay outside overnight?

Now they tell me the ENT I really need to see this Friday is no longer in network after we noticed the referral expired. I thought that once I was an established patient, I could see them as often as I wanted. But apparently, they do this on the first of every year. Getting really tired of making a career out of hunting for doctors, making calls to offices and insurance companies, filling out forms, and having a million appointments! I’ll be seeing someone else in two weeks instead but where are all the female doctors in Florida? It seemed there were more female doctors in Cali than male.

Another frustrating thing is the car starter battery. He knows it needs to be changed, but the person who came out and inspected it said it was good. Yet he has to jump the damn thing every few days or so. He read online that this is a common problem and they recommend you just keep calling them out and eventually they’ll replace it. It’s under warranty too.

My gallbladder was a little crampy earlier. I don’t think it liked the milk in my cereal, even though I got lactose-free. I probably won’t have a surgery date until the end of this month or the beginning of next. Jessie said she’s had endoscopies before, and they’re a piece of cake.

Reading back in my earlier journals, I realize I’ve never been correct in predicting anyone’s death. I thought one of my parents would die at 83, yet they both died at 80. I thought his mother would make it to 86 or 87, yet she made it to 93. So I realize that I could be wrong when I assume Tom will make it to 85. I just came up with that because that’s common these days, and that’s how long his father lived. Well, 84 to be exact.