(no subject)

So, I've been battling with some back pain for a while, which is now starting to interfere with my work. I don't actually think it's musculo-skeletal, but the doctor I went to see at the clinic sure does, and won't consider anything else until I've had physical therapy. (Being fair, she did do a pee test for kidney stones and the intern who saw me first agreed with me and gave me codeine.) I think I have an excess of spleen, mainly because the spleen is in the area and I've never had muscular pain this severe.

But my debate with the medical establishment aside, it means that before I can go back and demand some kind of internal imaging, I need to do PT, which fair enough; if the PT helps, hurrah. But trying to schedule an appointment has been a hilarious farce that has now required six phone calls (one from me, four from them, and when they open this morning, yet another from me to respond to their last one). Scheduling went very quickly but then they called back to check that they'd given me the right time, to check that they'd given me the right person, to do a phone pre-screen that they forgot to do before, and now to get my insurance information. I started out thinking that they shouldn't put someone who wasn't a morning person on the morning shift -- she seemed very bewildered at 7:30 in the morning -- but I'm beginning to suspect that the person who keeps calling me perhaps is in the wrong line of work. At this point I'm just glad she's not going to be my physical therapist.

When will I shed this mortal husk and enter the internet to live forever as a digital demigod? Really it can't come soon enough.

(no subject)

In the building where I now live, there's some retail on the ground floor -- a couple of spaces, including an empty one where there used to be a bank a couple of years ago.

I started having this little fantasy of someone moving into it and opening a small grocer, because while there are two grocery stores quite close by, there's really nothing to the north of them for a couple of miles, and there's a lot of people in the building who I imagine would like to be able to buy a bottle of milk without putting real pants on. I am one of them. I am that lazy.

It's slowly morphed over the months into a pipe dream of taking out a small business loan and opening the grocer myself, maybe with some tables in the back for cooking classes and a little coffee bar. I think it could get a lot of tourist traffic, given where it's situated.

I know this for what it is, which is a fantasy best left unfulfilled; I don't have the experience, energy, or financial stability to run my own business, and if a BANK couldn't survive there, I'm not sure a grocery store has a shot. But I'm struggling a bit at work and the idea of being my own boss sometimes has its appeal. Not to mention the fact that my commute would be a hell of a lot less intense.

So the pragmatism doesn't stop me doodling logos for Sam's Up Market in my head on the commute sometimes.