Yesterday the next-door neighbors' son asked me out to lunch.
To celebrate his forty-seventh birthday.
I kindly turned him down in favor of housecleaning. He came back anyway when he thought I wasn't looking to pour salt on my front step.
Sighhh.
Monday, December 31, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
home again, home again
It's back to Michigan and back to work for me.
I had a lovely Christmas with my folks, which was really, really nice. For the past couple of years Christmas hasn't felt like Christmas, and it's been...well, discouraging at the least, but more like a kind of headspin. I've always thrown myself into the Christmas spirit with a passion; this year I didn't decorate even a smidgen, and didn't bother with a tree. I guess it's one of the things about growing up I'll have to get used to. Nothing's the same anymore.
But still, I had a wonderful time at home, and wasn't quite ready to come back to my life. Thankfully it's only a two-day week at work, so the weekend draws nigh and I can dedicate a good portion of my time to housecleaning, which is top of the desperately needed to-do list.
The good thing about coming home, always, is Simon. There's something about having a pet who is completely and thoroughly Yours. My folks have three cats, one of which has been my favorite of the family kitties for years, and they were sweet and cute and delightful, but they weren't mine. I missed Simon. I missed his alert attention to everything I do, the way he comes and finds me when he's been doing something else for awhile, the way he comes to me when I call him, the way he stops whatever he's doing when I talk to him and rolls on the floor, the way he cuddles up to me at night, the way he shoves his head in my face and rattles my skull with his purr in the mornings. So coming home last night and seeing him was fantastic (he was purring so hard it choked him), and a nice balm to what has been a terrible grief of living in a house alone.
I'm looking forward to cleaning out the kitchen so that I can start my cooking again. Now that I have that wonderful meat cleaver, some of the recipes I had to shunt aside are now possibilities.
Now I just need a grill.
I had a lovely Christmas with my folks, which was really, really nice. For the past couple of years Christmas hasn't felt like Christmas, and it's been...well, discouraging at the least, but more like a kind of headspin. I've always thrown myself into the Christmas spirit with a passion; this year I didn't decorate even a smidgen, and didn't bother with a tree. I guess it's one of the things about growing up I'll have to get used to. Nothing's the same anymore.
But still, I had a wonderful time at home, and wasn't quite ready to come back to my life. Thankfully it's only a two-day week at work, so the weekend draws nigh and I can dedicate a good portion of my time to housecleaning, which is top of the desperately needed to-do list.
The good thing about coming home, always, is Simon. There's something about having a pet who is completely and thoroughly Yours. My folks have three cats, one of which has been my favorite of the family kitties for years, and they were sweet and cute and delightful, but they weren't mine. I missed Simon. I missed his alert attention to everything I do, the way he comes and finds me when he's been doing something else for awhile, the way he comes to me when I call him, the way he stops whatever he's doing when I talk to him and rolls on the floor, the way he cuddles up to me at night, the way he shoves his head in my face and rattles my skull with his purr in the mornings. So coming home last night and seeing him was fantastic (he was purring so hard it choked him), and a nice balm to what has been a terrible grief of living in a house alone.
I'm looking forward to cleaning out the kitchen so that I can start my cooking again. Now that I have that wonderful meat cleaver, some of the recipes I had to shunt aside are now possibilities.
Now I just need a grill.
Tuesday, December 25, 2007
Monday, December 24, 2007
let all mortal flesh keep silence
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.
Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God -- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John testifies concerning him. He cries out, saying, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.'" From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. For the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth came from Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father's side, has made him known.
~John 1:1-18 (NIV)
Allelu Yah.
Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded
For with blessing in His hand
Christ our God to earth descending
Comes our homage to demand.
King of kings yet born of Mary
As of old on earth He stood
God of gods in human likeness
In the body and the blood:
He will give to all the people
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way
As the light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At his feet the six winged seraph
Cherubim with sleepless eye
Veil their faces to the presence
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.
There came a man who was sent from God; his name was John. He came as a witness to testify concerning that light, so that through him all men might believe. He himself was not the light; he came only as a witness to the light. The true light that gives light to every man was coming into the world.
He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God -- children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband's will, but born of God.
The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.
John testifies concerning him. He cries out, saying, "This was he of whom I said, 'He who comes after me has surpassed me because he was before me.'" From the fullness of his grace we have all received one blessing after another. For the Law was given through Moses; grace and truth came from Jesus Christ. No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father's side, has made him known.
~John 1:1-18 (NIV)
Allelu Yah.
Let all mortal flesh keep silence
And with fear and trembling stand;
Ponder nothing earthly minded
For with blessing in His hand
Christ our God to earth descending
Comes our homage to demand.
King of kings yet born of Mary
As of old on earth He stood
God of gods in human likeness
In the body and the blood:
He will give to all the people
His own self for heavenly food.
Rank on rank the host of heaven
Spreads its vanguard on the way
As the light of light descendeth
From the realms of endless day
That the powers of hell may vanish
As the darkness clears away.
At his feet the six winged seraph
Cherubim with sleepless eye
Veil their faces to the presence
As with ceaseless voice they cry:
Alleluia, Alleluia
Alleluia, Lord Most High!
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
I Wake to Grief, and Take My Waking Slow
I wake to grief, and take my waking slow.
The morning brings you no unfailing love;
I cannot tell you what I do not know.
I wish that I could tell you how to go,
that wisdom kills what longing cannot move;
but I wake to grief myself, and take it slow.
There ought to be some way for love to grow,
a releasing of celebratory doves –
but I cannot tell you what I do not know.
If I could bring you peace, dear heart, I’d show
you how many of your fears I could remove;
so I wake to grief, and take my waking slow.
My faith was something simple, long ago,
is simple still, but grown with pain enough
that I cannot tell you what I do not know.
The world parades its fancies in a glow
of farcical illusions none can prove;
and so I wake to grief, and take my waking slow.
I cannot tell you, love, what I don’t know.
* With acknowledgments to Theodore Roethke for the first (and repeated) line, and to W. H. Auden for the third (and repeated) line.
The morning brings you no unfailing love;
I cannot tell you what I do not know.
I wish that I could tell you how to go,
that wisdom kills what longing cannot move;
but I wake to grief myself, and take it slow.
There ought to be some way for love to grow,
a releasing of celebratory doves –
but I cannot tell you what I do not know.
If I could bring you peace, dear heart, I’d show
you how many of your fears I could remove;
so I wake to grief, and take my waking slow.
My faith was something simple, long ago,
is simple still, but grown with pain enough
that I cannot tell you what I do not know.
The world parades its fancies in a glow
of farcical illusions none can prove;
and so I wake to grief, and take my waking slow.
I cannot tell you, love, what I don’t know.
* With acknowledgments to Theodore Roethke for the first (and repeated) line, and to W. H. Auden for the third (and repeated) line.
rrrrgh.
Med switches are the pits. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I'm not on the old crap. But I'm so tired and so irritable I can barely live with myself, and I'm not good for anything at the present moment.
Does it feel like it's almost Christmas to you? It doesn't to me. I thought the extra week we'd have, since Thanksgiving was early, would have me all in the mood and prepared. But I'm just not. I got all my shopping done, and now I need to wrap presents and bake cookies. And those little tasks feel just about insurmountable.
Auugggghhh. Help.
Does it feel like it's almost Christmas to you? It doesn't to me. I thought the extra week we'd have, since Thanksgiving was early, would have me all in the mood and prepared. But I'm just not. I got all my shopping done, and now I need to wrap presents and bake cookies. And those little tasks feel just about insurmountable.
Auugggghhh. Help.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
exhausted
I drove up to Ann Arbor yesterday to visit my general practitioner at the University of Michigan, and finally got some decent medical help.
Turns out my instincts weren't off track; Dr. Fine prescribed me regular Zyrtec again, so that my stomach doesn't need to go all haywire from a decongestant that I don't need. He also put me back on Wellbutrin, which I've used in the past and which has, at the very least, never given me bad side effects.
This past weekend was rough. I had stopped taking Cymbalta, which was actually kind of stupid, since with that antidepressant a person needs to be weaned off it, or suffer withdrawal; so I suffered withdrawal. But it was kind of a Scylla and Charybdis situation, because when I broke down and did take it on Saturday, I felt much worse. Bah.
So I spent most of the weekend an edgy, nervous wreck, popping Benadryl to calm me down. Fortunately I spent nearly all that time with my boss's family, so I had some support and distraction from how crappy I felt.
Today I'm just tired. The seven-hour round trip was a long drive, though worth it, and med switches are always interesting. My poor body doesn't know which end is up, and wants to spend the time curled up in bed. However, duty calls, so I'm going to plow through the day as best I can, and hit the hay super early tonight.
Good things are happening, though; last night for the first time in forever I actually cooked dinner -- an activity which I've sorely missed, but haven't had the energy to attempt. And it was nice to spend a quiet evening at home with my kitty -- he missed me while I was gone, and was all darling and sweet and purry. And so glad to have me back that he spent the night pressed as close to me as he could get, and patiently waited out my tossings and turnings.
My office has returned to its pigsty state, so cleaning it will be the focus of my activities today. And at some point, when I'm home, I really need to shovel out the driveway. My car bravely plowed its way out this morning, but I do need to clear the path, and I feel that the physical labor will do me good.
Yawn.
Turns out my instincts weren't off track; Dr. Fine prescribed me regular Zyrtec again, so that my stomach doesn't need to go all haywire from a decongestant that I don't need. He also put me back on Wellbutrin, which I've used in the past and which has, at the very least, never given me bad side effects.
This past weekend was rough. I had stopped taking Cymbalta, which was actually kind of stupid, since with that antidepressant a person needs to be weaned off it, or suffer withdrawal; so I suffered withdrawal. But it was kind of a Scylla and Charybdis situation, because when I broke down and did take it on Saturday, I felt much worse. Bah.
So I spent most of the weekend an edgy, nervous wreck, popping Benadryl to calm me down. Fortunately I spent nearly all that time with my boss's family, so I had some support and distraction from how crappy I felt.
Today I'm just tired. The seven-hour round trip was a long drive, though worth it, and med switches are always interesting. My poor body doesn't know which end is up, and wants to spend the time curled up in bed. However, duty calls, so I'm going to plow through the day as best I can, and hit the hay super early tonight.
Good things are happening, though; last night for the first time in forever I actually cooked dinner -- an activity which I've sorely missed, but haven't had the energy to attempt. And it was nice to spend a quiet evening at home with my kitty -- he missed me while I was gone, and was all darling and sweet and purry. And so glad to have me back that he spent the night pressed as close to me as he could get, and patiently waited out my tossings and turnings.
My office has returned to its pigsty state, so cleaning it will be the focus of my activities today. And at some point, when I'm home, I really need to shovel out the driveway. My car bravely plowed its way out this morning, but I do need to clear the path, and I feel that the physical labor will do me good.
Yawn.
Friday, December 14, 2007
my life is a farcical drama
I've said many times that a lot of the events I undergo from time to time resemble something you'd watch on TV. Case in point:
Bad Apples, or, My Drama with the Doctor
I have been feeling poorly for quite some time -- since just before I moved, in fact. Granted, the stress of living in the Crack House would get to anyone, but it really took a nasty toll on my depression. Moving helped a little bit, but then, accounting for the stress of the move itself, the bulk of which I did alone (though I thank the Good God for the help I had with the heavy stuff), and then the following "settling in," which has taken forever due to the limited space in my new abode, the general stress of attending my beloved sister's lovely wedding, and the financial crunch I've been in, I've just felt down in the dumps since September.
The antidepressants I have been taking since April are no longer effective; I feel like the proverbial crap nearly all the time, and have recognized in my increasing agitation and horrible dreams (which didn't start till I began taking the stuff) a negative reaction to my medication. I had a bad reaction to an antidepressant before, and I can tell the difference between chemical and biological based on that experience (and a couple of others).
Not to mention some sort of stomach bug that has plagued me for a couple of weeks. It feels mostly like post-nasal drip, which, combined with the chemical stuff and the insomnia, have reduced me to a state of general mal-being.
So I made an appointment with my doctor. I happened to have made the appointment before the stomach troubles started, to do a med check, and then decided to include my recent illness when I got there.
Here's where things took a wild turn for the absurd.
When I first began seeing this physician, his staff informed me that if I were five or more minutes late, they would have to reschedule me. With that in mind, I prepared yesterday to leave twenty minutes early for the appointment to ensure a timely arrival. Unfortunately, the receptionist (who is generally wonderful, but doesn't always know how to handle new situations) paged me just as I was putting on my coat to pass me a new client call, and the person on the phone was in hysterics. Being that I'm in the business of people, I took the call, calmed the caller as best I could, and left immediately following my hanging up.
I called the doctor's office to let them know that I would be about three minutes late. They said that if I were any later than that, I would have to reschedule. I drove as quickly as I could, considering that all of the people in front of me had taken it into their heads to drive ten miles an hour below the speed limit. When the clock said I was four minutes late, I gave up, unhappily called the doctor's office to reschedule and then returned to the office.
My boss saw me upset when I returned, and, as he has taken me into a fatherly consideration generally, he decided to call the doctor's office to see if they could get me in that day anyhow.
There was an emotional explosion from the doctor's office. Although M'sieur had merely called to see if I could get an appointment that day, and requested nothing further, they alleged a HIPPA violation on his part, said he was requesting a disclosure of information (he wasn't), and threatened us with their attorney, regardless of the fact that I was standing right there and authorized them to talk to him once they started getting nasty. They were excessively discourteous.
Now, I understand confidentiality. I work for a lawyer. I have had relatives of clients call the office out of concern, and have always told them, kindly and courteously, why I could not disclose any information to them. But when anyone calls wanting to make an appointment for someone, I make the appointment. There's no confidentiality violation there. And if I'm ever in doubt, I let them know -- again, kindly and courteously. And nine times out of ten people respond well to what I tell them.
So their reaction was more than a little overboard. The escalation took me by surprise; however, they did arrange to see me that afternoon, through, I believe, their attorney.
Naturally I was upset and nervous about going there at all, but I did want my appointment. The staff there wouldn't speak to me, and then the doctor told me that because of that day's events, they could no longer keep me as a patient.
I had rather awful flashbacks to when I lost my job over a year ago -- the doctor's manner was exactly the same as the CEO back then: fakey-nice, falsely cheerful, patronizing, and insinuating that everything was my fault and I had inconvenienced the whole office and they simply couldn't keep someone who was as thoughtless and selfish as I was to throw off the whole schedule for the day. He also denied the five-minute window of lateness, and said I could have been ten or fifteen minutes late and it would have been fine, and they would have seen me if I had come in; he had nothing to say except to continue denying the five-minute rule when I informed him that that rule was given to me by his staff since my initial visit as a new patient, in addition to its reiteration by them that afternoon when I had first called. I became rather highly upset. I tried to tell him the problems I'd been having with my health, and his answer was immediately to prescribe an intensive medication used to treat bipolar disorder, to deal with what he called "an extreme episode" -- never mind that my state at the time was a direct result of the situation with his office.
I've always done my best to be an intelligent patient. I know my body and my state of mind better than anyone else, so I had a lot of things I wanted to tell him -- that my agitation seems chemical in nature, that I believe I've been having a bad reaction to my meds, that the dreams correlate with the start of my taking said meds, that I further believe my stomach problems stem from the allergy medication he prescribed, which contains a decongestant which I don't need, since I'm not congested. But he wasn't interested in listening (which of course upset me further; he wanted to treat all of my symptoms as psychological backwash when I believe they're not completely interrelated); he just wanted to get me out of there. He seemed worried enough about my emotional state, made an appointment for me for today, and asked if I were going to do "anything stupid" that night. I curtly assured him I wouldn't.
I never respond well to injustice. I firmly believe that if my boss hadn't had "attorney" in front of his name, their reaction would have been more polite. And any doctor's office that responds that badly to an attorney isn't one I want to have treating me. It raises my suspicions regarding whether they've had problems in the past.
So, although the doctor said he wouldn't "let me go" until "we've gotten through this," I canceled my appointments for today and Monday (pleasantly, I might add. They'll never be justified in saying that I was rude). I don't want to see him again. And I'd rather be the one to make the call to leave, and not wait for them to say, "Okay, you seem better now, so..." No thanks. I don't trust his medical judgments at this point; I was being treated as a problem, not a patient, and I will not be taking that bipolar medication, when all I needed was a simple med switch, and when I've been wondering if it's time to stop taking antidepressants at all, if my reaction to the meds which helped me when I first started taking them is my body telling me, no more; you're all right now. Depression has been situational for me historically anyway; I was on antidepressants temporarily in college, and then, through the course of therapy, taken off them altogether, and didn't have to start taking them again until things began going downhill at the Center. But these are things the doctor didn't seem willing to discuss.
Furthermore, he seemed on board with the way his staff had handled the situation, and I won't be treated by a facility that sees fit to be so incredibly discourteous to someone who cares about my wellbeing, even if they aren't sure they can talk to him.
Altogether, the events of yesterday were insane. But at least life is never boring. I figure that something like this would have come up eventually, and on the whole, I'd prefer to find out now rather than later. I haven't been impressed lately with the doctor's treatment anyway. So it seems Providence took a step in and gave me a nudge.
The general physician I've seen before at the University of Michigan has scheduled me for an appointment on Monday, and I look forward to seeing him. He's top of the line, pleasant, courteous, competent, and enjoys my input.
Oh yes; and my boss is the one who e-mailed him to ask if he could see me soon. Rather than freak out over bogus HIPPA violations, he had his staff call me to get me in. Nice, eh?
And I'm feeling, though tired and worn out from yesterday, in a decent frame of mind today. Bless my parents, and my bosses. They've been extremely supportive.
So there you have it, folks. The continuation of my strange little life.
Bad Apples, or, My Drama with the Doctor
I have been feeling poorly for quite some time -- since just before I moved, in fact. Granted, the stress of living in the Crack House would get to anyone, but it really took a nasty toll on my depression. Moving helped a little bit, but then, accounting for the stress of the move itself, the bulk of which I did alone (though I thank the Good God for the help I had with the heavy stuff), and then the following "settling in," which has taken forever due to the limited space in my new abode, the general stress of attending my beloved sister's lovely wedding, and the financial crunch I've been in, I've just felt down in the dumps since September.
The antidepressants I have been taking since April are no longer effective; I feel like the proverbial crap nearly all the time, and have recognized in my increasing agitation and horrible dreams (which didn't start till I began taking the stuff) a negative reaction to my medication. I had a bad reaction to an antidepressant before, and I can tell the difference between chemical and biological based on that experience (and a couple of others).
Not to mention some sort of stomach bug that has plagued me for a couple of weeks. It feels mostly like post-nasal drip, which, combined with the chemical stuff and the insomnia, have reduced me to a state of general mal-being.
So I made an appointment with my doctor. I happened to have made the appointment before the stomach troubles started, to do a med check, and then decided to include my recent illness when I got there.
Here's where things took a wild turn for the absurd.
When I first began seeing this physician, his staff informed me that if I were five or more minutes late, they would have to reschedule me. With that in mind, I prepared yesterday to leave twenty minutes early for the appointment to ensure a timely arrival. Unfortunately, the receptionist (who is generally wonderful, but doesn't always know how to handle new situations) paged me just as I was putting on my coat to pass me a new client call, and the person on the phone was in hysterics. Being that I'm in the business of people, I took the call, calmed the caller as best I could, and left immediately following my hanging up.
I called the doctor's office to let them know that I would be about three minutes late. They said that if I were any later than that, I would have to reschedule. I drove as quickly as I could, considering that all of the people in front of me had taken it into their heads to drive ten miles an hour below the speed limit. When the clock said I was four minutes late, I gave up, unhappily called the doctor's office to reschedule and then returned to the office.
My boss saw me upset when I returned, and, as he has taken me into a fatherly consideration generally, he decided to call the doctor's office to see if they could get me in that day anyhow.
There was an emotional explosion from the doctor's office. Although M'sieur had merely called to see if I could get an appointment that day, and requested nothing further, they alleged a HIPPA violation on his part, said he was requesting a disclosure of information (he wasn't), and threatened us with their attorney, regardless of the fact that I was standing right there and authorized them to talk to him once they started getting nasty. They were excessively discourteous.
Now, I understand confidentiality. I work for a lawyer. I have had relatives of clients call the office out of concern, and have always told them, kindly and courteously, why I could not disclose any information to them. But when anyone calls wanting to make an appointment for someone, I make the appointment. There's no confidentiality violation there. And if I'm ever in doubt, I let them know -- again, kindly and courteously. And nine times out of ten people respond well to what I tell them.
So their reaction was more than a little overboard. The escalation took me by surprise; however, they did arrange to see me that afternoon, through, I believe, their attorney.
Naturally I was upset and nervous about going there at all, but I did want my appointment. The staff there wouldn't speak to me, and then the doctor told me that because of that day's events, they could no longer keep me as a patient.
I had rather awful flashbacks to when I lost my job over a year ago -- the doctor's manner was exactly the same as the CEO back then: fakey-nice, falsely cheerful, patronizing, and insinuating that everything was my fault and I had inconvenienced the whole office and they simply couldn't keep someone who was as thoughtless and selfish as I was to throw off the whole schedule for the day. He also denied the five-minute window of lateness, and said I could have been ten or fifteen minutes late and it would have been fine, and they would have seen me if I had come in; he had nothing to say except to continue denying the five-minute rule when I informed him that that rule was given to me by his staff since my initial visit as a new patient, in addition to its reiteration by them that afternoon when I had first called. I became rather highly upset. I tried to tell him the problems I'd been having with my health, and his answer was immediately to prescribe an intensive medication used to treat bipolar disorder, to deal with what he called "an extreme episode" -- never mind that my state at the time was a direct result of the situation with his office.
I've always done my best to be an intelligent patient. I know my body and my state of mind better than anyone else, so I had a lot of things I wanted to tell him -- that my agitation seems chemical in nature, that I believe I've been having a bad reaction to my meds, that the dreams correlate with the start of my taking said meds, that I further believe my stomach problems stem from the allergy medication he prescribed, which contains a decongestant which I don't need, since I'm not congested. But he wasn't interested in listening (which of course upset me further; he wanted to treat all of my symptoms as psychological backwash when I believe they're not completely interrelated); he just wanted to get me out of there. He seemed worried enough about my emotional state, made an appointment for me for today, and asked if I were going to do "anything stupid" that night. I curtly assured him I wouldn't.
I never respond well to injustice. I firmly believe that if my boss hadn't had "attorney" in front of his name, their reaction would have been more polite. And any doctor's office that responds that badly to an attorney isn't one I want to have treating me. It raises my suspicions regarding whether they've had problems in the past.
So, although the doctor said he wouldn't "let me go" until "we've gotten through this," I canceled my appointments for today and Monday (pleasantly, I might add. They'll never be justified in saying that I was rude). I don't want to see him again. And I'd rather be the one to make the call to leave, and not wait for them to say, "Okay, you seem better now, so..." No thanks. I don't trust his medical judgments at this point; I was being treated as a problem, not a patient, and I will not be taking that bipolar medication, when all I needed was a simple med switch, and when I've been wondering if it's time to stop taking antidepressants at all, if my reaction to the meds which helped me when I first started taking them is my body telling me, no more; you're all right now. Depression has been situational for me historically anyway; I was on antidepressants temporarily in college, and then, through the course of therapy, taken off them altogether, and didn't have to start taking them again until things began going downhill at the Center. But these are things the doctor didn't seem willing to discuss.
Furthermore, he seemed on board with the way his staff had handled the situation, and I won't be treated by a facility that sees fit to be so incredibly discourteous to someone who cares about my wellbeing, even if they aren't sure they can talk to him.
Altogether, the events of yesterday were insane. But at least life is never boring. I figure that something like this would have come up eventually, and on the whole, I'd prefer to find out now rather than later. I haven't been impressed lately with the doctor's treatment anyway. So it seems Providence took a step in and gave me a nudge.
The general physician I've seen before at the University of Michigan has scheduled me for an appointment on Monday, and I look forward to seeing him. He's top of the line, pleasant, courteous, competent, and enjoys my input.
Oh yes; and my boss is the one who e-mailed him to ask if he could see me soon. Rather than freak out over bogus HIPPA violations, he had his staff call me to get me in. Nice, eh?
And I'm feeling, though tired and worn out from yesterday, in a decent frame of mind today. Bless my parents, and my bosses. They've been extremely supportive.
So there you have it, folks. The continuation of my strange little life.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
insomnia
Something doesn't want me to sleep.
It's been going on like this for months. Every night I have completely insane dreams about people I haven't seen in years, full of uncertainty and worry and all sorts of negative emotions, then I wake up two or three times throughout the night, then I can't fall back asleep, then the house starts making bizarre noises that wake me up again once I do.
Last night I took a Benadryl and went to bed at 9:30, dead tired and hoping for a little rest. But every hour on the hour my furnace kicked on and made loud rattling noises that woke me instantly, I was too hot, then too cold, I couldn't fall asleep again, my dreams got worse when I did, and then the furnace kicked back on.
And of course, this morning the furnace was quiet as a purring kitten.
But hey, the shadows under my eyes look artistic.
It's been going on like this for months. Every night I have completely insane dreams about people I haven't seen in years, full of uncertainty and worry and all sorts of negative emotions, then I wake up two or three times throughout the night, then I can't fall back asleep, then the house starts making bizarre noises that wake me up again once I do.
Last night I took a Benadryl and went to bed at 9:30, dead tired and hoping for a little rest. But every hour on the hour my furnace kicked on and made loud rattling noises that woke me instantly, I was too hot, then too cold, I couldn't fall asleep again, my dreams got worse when I did, and then the furnace kicked back on.
And of course, this morning the furnace was quiet as a purring kitten.
But hey, the shadows under my eyes look artistic.
Wednesday, December 12, 2007
the new Christmas spirit, part 14
I'm running this one backward to save bytes. You all know how it goes.
The (New) Twelve Days of Christmas
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
twelve break-up speeches
eleven bland excuses
ten busy signals
nine days of silence
eight awkward kisses
seven nervous stutters
six shy glances
five cell phone rings!
Four doctored photos
three romance surveys
two stilted emails
and a nudge on eHarmony!
The (New) Twelve Days of Christmas
On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me
twelve break-up speeches
eleven bland excuses
ten busy signals
nine days of silence
eight awkward kisses
seven nervous stutters
six shy glances
five cell phone rings!
Four doctored photos
three romance surveys
two stilted emails
and a nudge on eHarmony!
more home improvements
So my house stories bore you. Too bad. :) I have nothing else of particular interest to report, and I'm currently obsessed with nesting, so there you have it. I'm not sorry not to have horrific mouse stories or psychotic neighbors or anything else to relate, although those sorts of things are certainly more entertaining than tales of my sewing conquests.
Come to think of it, though, here are a couple of things that aren't totally dull:
1.) An eighty-year-old woman died in my bedroom a number of years ago. The house, however, radiates peace, so I believe she didn't suffer.
2.) My basement is hung with merry curtains of cobwebs which give me the dry heaves, so I never use it.
3.) This past weekend I found a cigarette butt on the path leading from my porch to the car. I didn't put it there. The middle-aged son of my next-door neighbors is a little odd, so I suspect he was standing out there in the evening looking in my one blindless living room window. That's my best guess. I don't feel threatened or anything, just mildly nauseated. I hung miniblinds to take care of that issue.
Onto the boring stuff!
I have crowned myself the Curtain Queen. They're all finished. Red curtains for my study, gorgeous linenesque yellow-green curtains for my bathroom. Which meant I was able to hang the remaining curtains in my bedroom. Altogether, it looks lovely. The study is transformed from a hideous spare room into a place of relatively cozy comfort. The bedroom is perfect (aside from one glaring empty white wall, but I'll be hanging a large picture to alleviate that). The living room is picked up and vacuumed, the dishes are washed.
All I have left is the general lightweight clutter. In a house as small as mine, even the slightest bit of clutter on any floor or flat surface makes the whole place look completely messy, since there isn't much open space to make it look as small as it really is. Which means I'll have to be the consummate housekeeper.
I wish my kitchen weren't so ugly. Maybe I'll paint the cupboards.
And I have to set up my computer. Now that the study isn't blugh, I want to be able to take up my writing again.
Come to think of it, though, here are a couple of things that aren't totally dull:
1.) An eighty-year-old woman died in my bedroom a number of years ago. The house, however, radiates peace, so I believe she didn't suffer.
2.) My basement is hung with merry curtains of cobwebs which give me the dry heaves, so I never use it.
3.) This past weekend I found a cigarette butt on the path leading from my porch to the car. I didn't put it there. The middle-aged son of my next-door neighbors is a little odd, so I suspect he was standing out there in the evening looking in my one blindless living room window. That's my best guess. I don't feel threatened or anything, just mildly nauseated. I hung miniblinds to take care of that issue.
Onto the boring stuff!
I have crowned myself the Curtain Queen. They're all finished. Red curtains for my study, gorgeous linenesque yellow-green curtains for my bathroom. Which meant I was able to hang the remaining curtains in my bedroom. Altogether, it looks lovely. The study is transformed from a hideous spare room into a place of relatively cozy comfort. The bedroom is perfect (aside from one glaring empty white wall, but I'll be hanging a large picture to alleviate that). The living room is picked up and vacuumed, the dishes are washed.
All I have left is the general lightweight clutter. In a house as small as mine, even the slightest bit of clutter on any floor or flat surface makes the whole place look completely messy, since there isn't much open space to make it look as small as it really is. Which means I'll have to be the consummate housekeeper.
I wish my kitchen weren't so ugly. Maybe I'll paint the cupboards.
And I have to set up my computer. Now that the study isn't blugh, I want to be able to take up my writing again.
Monday, December 10, 2007
hobbit hole
This weekend I finally pulled the stops out and worked hard on my house.
I moved all of the stuff that I had been storing in the study through the adjoining door into the garage.
I rearranged furniture in the study to accommodate my antique rocking chair, so that I didn't have to, as I thought I would, store it in the garage as well.
I looked at and seriously hated the hideous door connecting the study to the garage, which takes up a lot of the end wall of the narrow room and makes the whole thing look incredibly tacky. That door is made of the cheapest possible material which has obviously splintered, and looks like it was unceremoniously forced into the jamb. Altogether so ugly it's depressing. So I dug out a set of garnet sheets that Boss Lady had given me, ripped out the stitches on the top ends, ran a spare curtain rod through it (one that I had saved from when I made my living room curtains in the spring, but it was too wide for the windows and I never throw anything away that I can help), trimmed the bottom, grabbed my portable sewing machine, sewed a quick seam, mounted the curtain rod's hardware, and hung the curtain over the door. I then placed an antique captain's chair in front of it -- light enough for quick and easy moving when I want to use the door, but heavy enough to lend a sense of permanence to that end of the room. The dark red curtain gives the room a little splash of elegance, covers the ugly door, and traps the cold draft running in around the badly fitted edges.
I retrieved a very long, wrought iron curtain rod I've had lying around for a year or so and a designer shower curtain bestowed upon me by Boss Lady, forced the curtain onto the rod, and mounted it over my wide, doorless bedroom closet. It's a good closet, but a closet is a closet and viewing its innards from the rest of the room gave the bedroom a sort of unwanted ghetto chic. The curtain goes with the colors in the room and gives the room a sort of finished touch. It's stiff enough not to float around on the breeze of the heating vent and to act almost as a door itself when one ducks around it.
I solved the dual dilemma of what to do with this lovely antique suitcase I had bought as a bed for Simon which he never uses, and what to do with all the little stuffed animals people keep giving me (I refused to buy one of those horrible stuffed animal nets that hang from the ceiling, and at the same time, at the age of twenty-six, I also refused to pile them all over the bed). I opened the suitcase, which has a lovely red sateen lining, set a potted plant in one corner, and arranged the stuffed animals around the plant. It's sitting on one of my dressers in the bedroom and looks a lot more adult and nicely whimsical.
I cleaned the entire bedroom. I put away all the clothes, picked up all the clutter, and vacuumed. The result: beautiful. Finally, a finished room. Simon spent the entirety of yesterday in it.
That was only Saturday. Yesterday I went shopping for a few necessaries, which included a seam ripper. I took the fitted sheet from the garnet set and ripped out all the stitches (which took forever), then trimmed it into a square and cut out panels for curtains in the study windows to match the curtain over the door. I hemmed all the panels and cut out strips to sew into loops which I will attach to the top of the panels and through which I will run the curtain rods. These will give the study its final touch, and grant me some much-needed privacy, as I am uncomfortable sitting in lighted rooms at night into which anyone outside can see.
So I made a lot of progress yesterday which two months in a depressive funk had, till this weekend, prevented. Somehow it was much easier with Christmas music playing in the background.
Tonight: finish the curtains, wash a few more dishes, and hang a miniblind over the last bare living room window. Also cook dinner (creamed chicken and biscuits. Heavenly).
I moved all of the stuff that I had been storing in the study through the adjoining door into the garage.
I rearranged furniture in the study to accommodate my antique rocking chair, so that I didn't have to, as I thought I would, store it in the garage as well.
I looked at and seriously hated the hideous door connecting the study to the garage, which takes up a lot of the end wall of the narrow room and makes the whole thing look incredibly tacky. That door is made of the cheapest possible material which has obviously splintered, and looks like it was unceremoniously forced into the jamb. Altogether so ugly it's depressing. So I dug out a set of garnet sheets that Boss Lady had given me, ripped out the stitches on the top ends, ran a spare curtain rod through it (one that I had saved from when I made my living room curtains in the spring, but it was too wide for the windows and I never throw anything away that I can help), trimmed the bottom, grabbed my portable sewing machine, sewed a quick seam, mounted the curtain rod's hardware, and hung the curtain over the door. I then placed an antique captain's chair in front of it -- light enough for quick and easy moving when I want to use the door, but heavy enough to lend a sense of permanence to that end of the room. The dark red curtain gives the room a little splash of elegance, covers the ugly door, and traps the cold draft running in around the badly fitted edges.
I retrieved a very long, wrought iron curtain rod I've had lying around for a year or so and a designer shower curtain bestowed upon me by Boss Lady, forced the curtain onto the rod, and mounted it over my wide, doorless bedroom closet. It's a good closet, but a closet is a closet and viewing its innards from the rest of the room gave the bedroom a sort of unwanted ghetto chic. The curtain goes with the colors in the room and gives the room a sort of finished touch. It's stiff enough not to float around on the breeze of the heating vent and to act almost as a door itself when one ducks around it.
I solved the dual dilemma of what to do with this lovely antique suitcase I had bought as a bed for Simon which he never uses, and what to do with all the little stuffed animals people keep giving me (I refused to buy one of those horrible stuffed animal nets that hang from the ceiling, and at the same time, at the age of twenty-six, I also refused to pile them all over the bed). I opened the suitcase, which has a lovely red sateen lining, set a potted plant in one corner, and arranged the stuffed animals around the plant. It's sitting on one of my dressers in the bedroom and looks a lot more adult and nicely whimsical.
I cleaned the entire bedroom. I put away all the clothes, picked up all the clutter, and vacuumed. The result: beautiful. Finally, a finished room. Simon spent the entirety of yesterday in it.
That was only Saturday. Yesterday I went shopping for a few necessaries, which included a seam ripper. I took the fitted sheet from the garnet set and ripped out all the stitches (which took forever), then trimmed it into a square and cut out panels for curtains in the study windows to match the curtain over the door. I hemmed all the panels and cut out strips to sew into loops which I will attach to the top of the panels and through which I will run the curtain rods. These will give the study its final touch, and grant me some much-needed privacy, as I am uncomfortable sitting in lighted rooms at night into which anyone outside can see.
So I made a lot of progress yesterday which two months in a depressive funk had, till this weekend, prevented. Somehow it was much easier with Christmas music playing in the background.
Tonight: finish the curtains, wash a few more dishes, and hang a miniblind over the last bare living room window. Also cook dinner (creamed chicken and biscuits. Heavenly).
Friday, December 07, 2007
by the heels
A legal secretary's life makes for some interesting experiences. Foremost on my list at the moment is skirting the antiquated practices of the Indiana filing system.
See, nearly all basic Indiana forms -- minute sheets (required for all filings; since the clerks don't like actually flipping through documents to determine what they are, every filing requires a minute sheet detailing what the filing is), summonses, subpoenas, attorney's appearances -- are given to the attorney's office in advance and the secretary, or attorney, has to fill them out manually. This means with a typewriter. So, each time one of these forms needs filing, I have to type, over and over, the case name, the case number, the Court number, and then the body of the text.
This wastes a considerable amount of my time. Michigan rallied itself to twenty-first century technology and put all of its basic forms in computer format. If my boss only practiced law in one state, I probably wouldn't notice or mind; but the juxtaposition of 2007 and 1955 wriggles under my skin.
I've done a few things with office forms already; my boss is an old-fashioned guy, and many of the internal office forms that we use had to be done manually as well. Late this summer I grew tired of using the typewriter for every little thing, and so I took the forms that we had and designed them in the computer. Now the clerical work goes MUCH faster.
So my challenge lately has been designing all of the Indiana forms in the computer as well. I actually enjoy doing it -- there's something about the organization required, and the perfection of getting every detail just right, that satisfies my little Virgo soul. I've had a lot of fun creating all of these forms from a single table, splitting or joining table cells as necessary, and locking the permanent ones in so that all I have to do is tab from one typing cell to another.
They actually look pretty great. My boss prefers to use the typewriter himself, so he wasn't that impressed, but I'm excited for my sake. Now I can save a bunch of minute sheets as master forms for each case and save myself the typing of every caption every time I have to use one.
One of the things I love about our computer-oriented generation is that it doesn't require much training to figure stuff out; all I did when I first started playing with WordPerfect (I know, most computer people hate WordPerfect, but I have found it to be rather easy to work with, if a little outmoded and unreliable in some respects) was go to the Michigan forms and hit a lot of buttons to see how they'd done their work, and then I was able to reproduce it in my own documents.
Brain surgery? No, of course not. But these are little things I like to do to ease my own tasks. I find them tremendously fulfilling. And I laugh at myself when I find that I'm procrastinating on work by doing other work. One of the signs of loving your job, I guess.
See, nearly all basic Indiana forms -- minute sheets (required for all filings; since the clerks don't like actually flipping through documents to determine what they are, every filing requires a minute sheet detailing what the filing is), summonses, subpoenas, attorney's appearances -- are given to the attorney's office in advance and the secretary, or attorney, has to fill them out manually. This means with a typewriter. So, each time one of these forms needs filing, I have to type, over and over, the case name, the case number, the Court number, and then the body of the text.
This wastes a considerable amount of my time. Michigan rallied itself to twenty-first century technology and put all of its basic forms in computer format. If my boss only practiced law in one state, I probably wouldn't notice or mind; but the juxtaposition of 2007 and 1955 wriggles under my skin.
I've done a few things with office forms already; my boss is an old-fashioned guy, and many of the internal office forms that we use had to be done manually as well. Late this summer I grew tired of using the typewriter for every little thing, and so I took the forms that we had and designed them in the computer. Now the clerical work goes MUCH faster.
So my challenge lately has been designing all of the Indiana forms in the computer as well. I actually enjoy doing it -- there's something about the organization required, and the perfection of getting every detail just right, that satisfies my little Virgo soul. I've had a lot of fun creating all of these forms from a single table, splitting or joining table cells as necessary, and locking the permanent ones in so that all I have to do is tab from one typing cell to another.
They actually look pretty great. My boss prefers to use the typewriter himself, so he wasn't that impressed, but I'm excited for my sake. Now I can save a bunch of minute sheets as master forms for each case and save myself the typing of every caption every time I have to use one.
One of the things I love about our computer-oriented generation is that it doesn't require much training to figure stuff out; all I did when I first started playing with WordPerfect (I know, most computer people hate WordPerfect, but I have found it to be rather easy to work with, if a little outmoded and unreliable in some respects) was go to the Michigan forms and hit a lot of buttons to see how they'd done their work, and then I was able to reproduce it in my own documents.
Brain surgery? No, of course not. But these are little things I like to do to ease my own tasks. I find them tremendously fulfilling. And I laugh at myself when I find that I'm procrastinating on work by doing other work. One of the signs of loving your job, I guess.
Thursday, December 06, 2007
a consumer's priorities
Dear CVS:
I would like to applaud you for the many efforts you make to enhance the lives of your customers. Your pharmaceutical staff in particular are all extremely helpful, polite, kind, and gifted with excellent senses of humor. I tip my metaphorical hat to you in regard to this phenomenal accomplishment.
I also appreciate the efforts you make to provide consumers with your own generic equivalents of name brand products. While I wouldn't call you, exactly, a cheap date, you're far more affordable than many of the name-brand products you carry. As my pocketbook is tight, I certainly appreciate the option to purchase less expensive, though no less in quality, products.
I must, however, point out the singular reason why I elected not to purchase your product equivalent to Vaseline Intensive Care Body Lotion last night. I was standing in front of the lotions debating on the prices, and noticed your store brand, equal, you said, to Vaseline Intensive Care Advanced Healing. As I like this lotion, but couldn't find the name brand on the shelf, I was deliberating on whether to purchase your brand, or the Vaseline Intensive Rescue, which I hadn't tried before but looked similar. In order to compare them, I picked up your bottle of lotion and turned it to the back to read the product description.
I was, I must confess, disappointed, CVS. Your product description was looking good, until my dismayed eyes stumbled on the words. You wrote, "It's healing effects [do such and such] to relieve..."
CVS, I have a degree in English. But I never needed that degree to distinguish between "its" and "it's." These are, I must say, relatively elementary concepts for professionals. "Its" is an adjective, CVS. A possessive. "It's" is a contraction abbreviating "it is." Clearly your product description contained an error that should have been caught by someone long before it went to print on your bottles. I would have thought that you would have people in marketing paid for just this sort of thing.
In the end, therefore, I chose to give Vaseline my money. Of course you made a profit on it, and I do not begrudge you that; you are, as I said before, an excellent company with a pharmacy that I have yet to see outranked in terms of promptness and service. But I do admit that I expected a little more from you in terms of marketing grammar based on that reputation for excellence.
This is not written to lambaste you or to call you a poor company; I will certainly continue frequenting your branch in Granger. I simply felt obligated to point out an error that denotes a certain lack of attention in one of your departments, and thus connotes a slip in professional language, or even a lack of education, which is extremely unfortunate for you, and, I confess, makes me feel a bit disappointed and even sad.
You may, in future, want to have someone with experience regarding and a vast knowledge of the English language and its rules to oversee what you print on your labels. It's an important facet in your sales.
Yours very warmly,
Sarah
I would like to applaud you for the many efforts you make to enhance the lives of your customers. Your pharmaceutical staff in particular are all extremely helpful, polite, kind, and gifted with excellent senses of humor. I tip my metaphorical hat to you in regard to this phenomenal accomplishment.
I also appreciate the efforts you make to provide consumers with your own generic equivalents of name brand products. While I wouldn't call you, exactly, a cheap date, you're far more affordable than many of the name-brand products you carry. As my pocketbook is tight, I certainly appreciate the option to purchase less expensive, though no less in quality, products.
I must, however, point out the singular reason why I elected not to purchase your product equivalent to Vaseline Intensive Care Body Lotion last night. I was standing in front of the lotions debating on the prices, and noticed your store brand, equal, you said, to Vaseline Intensive Care Advanced Healing. As I like this lotion, but couldn't find the name brand on the shelf, I was deliberating on whether to purchase your brand, or the Vaseline Intensive Rescue, which I hadn't tried before but looked similar. In order to compare them, I picked up your bottle of lotion and turned it to the back to read the product description.
I was, I must confess, disappointed, CVS. Your product description was looking good, until my dismayed eyes stumbled on the words. You wrote, "It's healing effects [do such and such] to relieve..."
CVS, I have a degree in English. But I never needed that degree to distinguish between "its" and "it's." These are, I must say, relatively elementary concepts for professionals. "Its" is an adjective, CVS. A possessive. "It's" is a contraction abbreviating "it is." Clearly your product description contained an error that should have been caught by someone long before it went to print on your bottles. I would have thought that you would have people in marketing paid for just this sort of thing.
In the end, therefore, I chose to give Vaseline my money. Of course you made a profit on it, and I do not begrudge you that; you are, as I said before, an excellent company with a pharmacy that I have yet to see outranked in terms of promptness and service. But I do admit that I expected a little more from you in terms of marketing grammar based on that reputation for excellence.
This is not written to lambaste you or to call you a poor company; I will certainly continue frequenting your branch in Granger. I simply felt obligated to point out an error that denotes a certain lack of attention in one of your departments, and thus connotes a slip in professional language, or even a lack of education, which is extremely unfortunate for you, and, I confess, makes me feel a bit disappointed and even sad.
You may, in future, want to have someone with experience regarding and a vast knowledge of the English language and its rules to oversee what you print on your labels. It's an important facet in your sales.
Yours very warmly,
Sarah
Monday, December 03, 2007
the new Christmas spirit, part 13
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Thy leaves are so unchanging
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Thy leaves are so unchanging
Thou represent’st my single state
That year to year doth not abate.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
They leaves are so unchanging.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
O wilt thou not appease me?
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
O wilt thou not appease me?
I long to hold somebody tight
Before thy glowing colored lights
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
O wilt thou not appease me?
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Thou twinklest so brightly
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree
Thou twinklest so brightly
Thou art a beacon, bright and clear
That my true love is drawing near
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree
Thou twinklest so brightly
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
I love thee for thy comfort!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
I love thee for thy comfort!
Thou bringest back the memory
Of childhood and family
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree
I love thee for thy comfort!
Thy leaves are so unchanging
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Thy leaves are so unchanging
Thou represent’st my single state
That year to year doth not abate.
O Christmas tree, O Christmas tree,
They leaves are so unchanging.
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
O wilt thou not appease me?
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
O wilt thou not appease me?
I long to hold somebody tight
Before thy glowing colored lights
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
O wilt thou not appease me?
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Thou twinklest so brightly
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree
Thou twinklest so brightly
Thou art a beacon, bright and clear
That my true love is drawing near
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree
Thou twinklest so brightly
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
I love thee for thy comfort!
O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
I love thee for thy comfort!
Thou bringest back the memory
Of childhood and family
O Christmas Tree O Christmas Tree
I love thee for thy comfort!
the new Christmas spirit, part 12
Deck the halls with mistletoe
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Kiss someone that you don't know
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Don we now that date apparel
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Troll the Christmas single's carol
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
See the scotch and wine before us
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Strike the bar and join the chorus
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Follow me in merry measure
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Flirt in hopes of Christmas pleasure
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
Fast away old failure passes
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Hail new love, ye lads and lasses
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Sing we hopeful all together
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
For romance that time will weather
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Kiss someone that you don't know
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Don we now that date apparel
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Troll the Christmas single's carol
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
See the scotch and wine before us
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Strike the bar and join the chorus
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Follow me in merry measure
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Flirt in hopes of Christmas pleasure
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
Fast away old failure passes
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Hail new love, ye lads and lasses
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
Sing we hopeful all together
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la
For romance that time will weather
Fa-la-la-la-la-la-la-la-la!
the new Christmas spirit, part 11
Here we come a-matchmaking among the neon green
Here we come a-clubbing, so better to be seen
Love and joy come to you
and to you that romance too
And God bless you and send you a date this year
And God send you a date this year.
We are not nightly drunkards that vomit on your floor
But we are lonely singles whom you have seen before
Love and joy come to you
and to you that romance too
And God bless you and send you a date this year
And God send you a date this year.
Here we come a-clubbing, so better to be seen
Love and joy come to you
and to you that romance too
And God bless you and send you a date this year
And God send you a date this year.
We are not nightly drunkards that vomit on your floor
But we are lonely singles whom you have seen before
Love and joy come to you
and to you that romance too
And God bless you and send you a date this year
And God send you a date this year.
the new Christmas spirit, part 10
Have yourself a single little Christmas
pet your cat tonight
From now on let your troubles all be out of sight
Have yourself a single little Christmas
scratch your kitty’s chin
What companion could you ever want but him?
Once again as in recent days, good and decent days of yore
That faithful pet who is dear to you draws a tear from you once more
Through the years you both will be together
since the Fates allow
He will eat the tinsel while you laugh aloud
So have yourself a single little Christmas now
pet your cat tonight
From now on let your troubles all be out of sight
Have yourself a single little Christmas
scratch your kitty’s chin
What companion could you ever want but him?
Once again as in recent days, good and decent days of yore
That faithful pet who is dear to you draws a tear from you once more
Through the years you both will be together
since the Fates allow
He will eat the tinsel while you laugh aloud
So have yourself a single little Christmas now
the new Christmas spirit, part 9
(See comments to Part 6 for parts 7 & 8.)
I’m dreaming of a hitched Christmas
It must be just around the bend
Where the bed is queen-sized, the house is dream-sized
And cuddles on the couch will never end.
I’m dreaming of a hitched Christmas
with each love-and-diamond TV glitch
May your days be merry and rich
and may all your Christmases be hitched.
I’m dreaming of a hitched Christmas
It must be just around the bend
Where the bed is queen-sized, the house is dream-sized
And cuddles on the couch will never end.
I’m dreaming of a hitched Christmas
with each love-and-diamond TV glitch
May your days be merry and rich
and may all your Christmases be hitched.
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