Principia Dischordia
Previous - this entry written on 2001-04-20 at 10:56 a.m. - Next


If you're eating, go away. Come back when you're done.



This is one of those TMI journals - Too Much Information. But I'm gonna write it anyway. Have to write it somewhere, I'm tired of having it all stuck in my head. It hurts.



You were warned.



. . .



I have to pee in a jar today... and most of yesterday, too. They are trying to figure out why I keep getting kidney stones and bladder infections, looking for some pattern that apparently they can't get out of just pee-in-a-cup. Nope, gotta have a whole jarful now. It's so gross.



So now there's a big blue plastic cooler squatting out on the back porch, with ice in it - they told me to keep the stuff cool, and thanks but I don't really want it in the same place I store my food.



That's also why I am home from work for these days. Peeing in a jar that has to be refrigerated is a bit difficult at work. Unsanitary. Violates all sorts of health codes.



It was tempting to go in anyway, to stick the jar into one of the little fridges, see if anyone was stupid enough to take it - I have had sandwiches, jello, salads, cake, cookies, you name it, disappear from the fridges there. There are food thieves. I don't blame them - Stream may seem to pay well ($10.58 an hour starting pay for easy work) but it's still not really enough to live on. There's a lot of starving people there.



I am one myself, some days.



I've had days when the only food I ended up eating was a handful of raisinets, two cans of soda, and a few bites of a friend's stir-fry stuff he brought from home.



Then there are days when I eat like a Queen... kids' cereals, apple, sandwich, potato salad, jello, carrot sticks, candy, mixed nuts, all of it crammed into my bag and some of it tucked in the fridge once I get there.



Yes, I'm someone who watches cooking shows and reads cookbooks. I like food. I admire anyone who can cook a five-course meal in under two hours.



But I've strayed off-topic again.



I don't think my subconscious wants to think about the jar... it makes me queasy, and the antibiotics (new ones now, daily, I'm going to be on these for several months, apparently) are already doing that for me. I hurt. I'm tired. I'm grouchy.



It's Friday... I want a hot dog!



Oh... and Happy 4:20, everyone! No, I can't celebrate, not with the whole jar thing goin' on, gods know what sort of tests they'll put the stuff through. But have an extra hit for me, please... and remember what the American Government is doing to our precious greenery.

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