After getting my blood test yesterday, I needed to be back at Cedars Sinai this morning at 9 am. I am not crazy about morning appointments; my auto immune stuff tends to be most active early in the morning and also, Cedars is near
Slimmons and what normally would be a one-hour drive turns into something closer to two. Rush hour traffic in Los Angeles is nothing to sneeze at.
As it was, I showed up in the
Thalien Building only about 5 minutes late, but waited for about 30 to be checked in. But when I started that process, I got a big surprise! It seems that the
Inflammatory Bowel Disease Clinic had moved. (Again.) Nobody had told me. I needed to go to Adult Center 3 in
Speilberg. Fortunately, not only was that just across the street (as if there's anything that's really "just" at Cedars), but where I had parked my car in the first place. So I headed back and checked in about 45 minutes past my appointment time.
Then came the waiting. Two hours worth. I don't know if I was pushed back that far because I messed with the schedule (a possibility although today's episode was not my fault and not the traffic either) or, more likely, it was just that Dr. V- is an extremely busy man dealing with patients of a critical nature, and he couldn't get to me sooner. Either way, I was a patient patient as I know that I have been the one so sick in the past that I bumped other patients around. Since I don't work, I stay calm and just wait it out.
The appointment was not eventful, and ended after about 15 minutes with me making another in January. I talked to Vanessa about the new location while she scheduled me, telling her that I did not like this particular office. She agreed, saying that nobody who worked there liked it either. But she assured me that they weren't going to be staying long. They were scheduled for yet another move in approximately six months. Have I ever mentioned that this office gets moved around an awful lot?
Anyway, I thought about it for a moment. Then I looked at her levelly in the eye. (You know I'm feeling a little better when my brain is in 'drive.') "Have you thought about telling the Administrators to just move you into the hospital proper?" I asked. "You know, someplace like the basement. Deep in the bowels of the building. It seems appropriate to me."
Vanessa did not respond - probably out of fear that acknowledging the idea might actually make it happen, but she looked like maybe deep down, she thought it was just a little bit funny.
I'm just going to blame
Angie. Not that she had anything to do with it, but back at the end of October, she posted about her
broken beyond any chance of revival oven. I was interested, I was sympathetic. But I was also a little detached. After all, mine worked just fine.
Last Wednesday, I had Eric over for dinner. By the time he arrived, I had the stuffed chicken in the oven. "Baking." Not. My oven was dead.
Well, I contacted Sears through their appliance repair website and scheduled a visit. Rushed home yesterday afternoon to await their arrival. And come around 3 PM, it occured to me that maybe I should double-check the print out. Oy. They're not scheduled until NEXT Friday, not this.
Of course, this is an issue because Vennie will be arriving tomorrow. A whole week with a fellow dieter staying with me without an oven? OY!
There's only one answer to this quandry; it's something that I've been considering for quite a while and I guess I'm going to finally break down and do it. Two words:
Toaster Oven.
Thirty posts in thirty days. This is day 15.
