Mr. Sensitive

August 20, 2010

How To Save Money

Filed under: Stuff I Just Wanted To Say — lbej @ 14:51
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First, you develop a case of the gout, a really bad one.  Then you take 0.6 mg of colchicine every hour for ten hours.  Then you can never eat again, ever.  Money successfully saved.

July 30, 2010

Six Day War – Day Five

Filed under: Operation Mortal Coil,Six Day War — lbej @ 09:18
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The dining room has been liberated following yesterday’s action.  In addition to general organizing, tidying and cleaning, I moved comics, trading cards, and related supplies to the office, cleared the far left corner of boxes and plastic bins, and reboxed and removed the last of the papers, photos, books, and other mementos of my immediate and extended families that had besieged me during Operation Mortal Coil.  All such material that I saw fit to preserve and retain has now been sorted and boxed, and 70 percent of it has been stored in the attic here.  Charlotte has taken possession of a full 20 percent, with my blessing, presumably for use in her own version of Operation Immortal Coil.  The remainder represents material that I stored in closets or other obscure but accessible locations for reasons of my own.  Today I intend to clean and reorder the family room so far as I am able; Reagan destroyed it to commemorate herself before she left last weekend.  My effectiveness has been greatly reduced by a course of colchicine I was forced to take yesterday to stop a developing gout attack.  Perhaps I will actually undertake the OMC review I’ve been meaning to do if I’m too nauseous to do anything else.

July 20, 2010

Brevet Promotion For Reagan

Filed under: Comic Books,Girls,Imperial Army — lbej @ 17:25
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3000 or more comics sorted on the first day of the offensive.  We are through M, having stopped on my account and to Reagan’s consternation.  My damnable foot is swollen and I’ve got to elevate it.  I am promoting Reagan to colonel; no further explanation seems to me to be necessary.  Perhaps my pansy feet and I will be able to keep up with her tomorrow.

July 5, 2010

Pet Nasty War – The Office Door Is Closed

Filed under: Pet Nasty War,Pets — lbej @ 13:59
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Lulu has accepted the new box, and Marisa knows it’s there, but still they do their black work on the office floor.  I am weak and they know it.  I haven’t been able to walk since last week, although today has been better owing to a third round of colchicine on Saturday.  For that I have paid with the medicinal shredding of my intestines to the point that I’m basically an upside-down ketchup bottle with hair.  They have spied that out as well, skulking around after me as is their wont.  But perhaps their spies are too good.  If they have followed my movements they will have expected me to be out of action for another day.  I haven’t slept and I can’t eat.  I can’t possibly be manufacturing blood at the pace I’m losing it.  The subsiding of the gout has subsided for today.  I can’t tear up the office carpet, or empty the desk, or cover the bookshelves.  But I can bag up the old litter box and put it in the trash, put a new air freshener in the office, and shut the door.  And so I have done.  The war begins in earnest not with battle but with blockade.  Your move, ladies.

July 3, 2010

Pet Nasty War – Offensive Delayed

Filed under: Me Myself and I,Pet Nasty War — lbej @ 10:27
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The litter box transition is well underway, but the high command is acutely aware that advances into cat-held territory have been few, brief, and tentative.  The onus must ultimately be upon the party seeking to change the status quo; the animals need only to avoid defeat, and they can reach the same end regardless of whether they repulse an attack or they manage to dissuade me from launching one to begin with.  And this they have so far done with the aid of the gout.  As in the Nivelle Offensive of 1917, significant engagement has cost me far more every time than it has gained.  If I work for an hour, the swelling and pain becomes so severe that I’m put out of action half a day.  The territory I want is cat territory, and no less than a sustained effort will be sufficient to hold even the smallest gain.  While I can’t sustain efforts I can’t prosecute the Pet Nasty War.  It matters not the force I can bring to bear in an isolated attack–if I must recuperate, the animals can do so as well, and time is on their side.  So I am driven by need to turn inwards to the reordering of my own forces.  First, I have discontinued HCTZ.  The pharmacy notes actually say not to take it if experiencing a gout attack.  Several times I asked my doctor whether I might change medications to avoid these debilitating attacks, and he said no.  If and when I do pay him another visit, he’s going to have to explain this combination of error and dismissiveness.  He is misinformed or unengaged and I can tolerate neither.  So no more HCTZ.  Also, I’m going to try baking soda.  I know this is all chemistry but it feels like magic, and I hate magic.

June 24, 2010

Never Give Up, Never Surrender

Filed under: Withdrawal War — lbej @ 09:35
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I love Galaxy Quest.  How hot is Gwen in that movie?  Not as hot as as the octopus chick who’s banging Antonio from Wings, but still.  Much has been said about how Demi Moore has defied the aging process, but what Sigourney Weaver is doing right now is bananas and nobody says a thing about it.  She is about a thousand times hotter now than when she was in Alien, and that was 30 years ago.  She’s like 75.  A Wonder Woman movie starring Sigourney Weaver must be made and it must be made now.

What I was going to say before my geek got out was that my offensive capacity has reached a low point such that I have to contemplate giving up non-essential operations altogether, for the time being at least.  I mentioned already the Lexapro withdrawal.  That has induced in me an unacceptable level of emotional instability and, furthermore, drained all the strength I would ordinarily have in reserve.  I had not disclosed the gout attack I have been struggling with for the past ten days now, but it has become severe enough that I have resorted to using the crutches I inherited from Mom.  That should tell you you all you need to know about the pain, because of course crutches are for sissies.  Ordinarily I can suppress a gout flare with anti-inflammatories and, if necessary, set aside a day to take a course of colchicine.  Colchicine is a nasty, nasty medicine, and possibly a mean trick played on me by my doctor.  The instructions on the prescription bottle are as follows: “Take one tablet by mouth every hour until gout relieved or diarrhea.”  I am not kidding.  The side effects of colchicine are very reliable, the intended effects, not so much.  I did a 9-hour course last Saturday and it didn’t take and a 7-hour course yesterday that seems not to have stopped the gout attack either.  Promised side effects, on the other hand, present and protracted.  So the facts on the ground are: it looks like there is a golf ball embedded in my left ankle; it feels like a golf ball is embedded in my ankle; my intestines are going Gordian; and I’m grumpy and weepy.  That leaves me unable to walk, unable to stray far from a bathroom, and unable to rely upon normal energy reserves to push past the pain.  What to do now?  I could sit here and feel sorry for myself, but honestly, I don’t enjoy that.  Mom was all about self-pity and it consistently didn’t help her improve her situation even a little bit.  What I do enjoy is facing difficulties, logging them meticulously, then taking outsized risks and audacious actions that I consider to be low-probability and high-impact.  That means I’m going to try something that probably won’t work, but if it does work, it’s going to be awesome.  I ask myself: what would Commander Taggart say?  More to the point: what would Maréchal Foch do?

You know what Maréchal Foch would do.

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