Busy at Nothing

Since my ride last Sunday I have been very busy at nothing. That is not to say I haven’t had things to do, but everything I’ve done, or had to do, has not resulted in much, for me anyway.

Sunday night I needed to call the automated phone thing-a-ma-jig at the county courthouse to see if I needed to report for jury duty on Monday. I didn’t, but was told I needed to call back on Monday evening.

Monday’s call was met with an automated “yes,” report at 8:45 Tuesday morning for juror orientation.

So me and 99 other people show up to be orientated to. In the the end 50 were released and told to call back Friday to see if they we’re needed next week. I was not one of those people. Shit.

Now, me and 49 other people sat, stood, squated, and leaned around the hallways of the courthouse for over an hour waiting to see if we were needed to participate in a trial that morning. Finally after an hour were told thanks, but the person took a plea and we’re free to go (he was not) and to call again on Friday like the other mob. I was happy about that, but still spent two hours of my morning sitting around.

Later that day it was off to the orthodontist with B-Man to start Phase 2 of B-Man’s Teeth 2017/18. Phase 1 was getting 5 wisdom teeth extracted, a baby eye-tooth pulled, and a freaking chain attached to the adult eye-tooth that decided it was going to grow sideways into the roof of this mouth. Now Phase 2 was getting braces on his uppers. Through all of this B has been a champ and we’re super proud of him. As a bonus, I left the office with a free notepad. And by “free” I mean thousands of dollars. Sigh.

Wednesday brought an appointment with a specialist about my ongoing blood clot issues. If things were bad enough he was the cat that could basically roto-rooter my veins to open them up and get rid of any clot and or old clot tissue.

The appointment ended up being a little anticlimactic but in a good way. It seems that the clot that I was recently told I had wasn’t really all that bad, not worth rootering out, and what I was doing (taking blood thinners) was about all there was to do. The off and on again grandma legs I get are just a fact of having had multiple DVTs since 2008. The only way he would go in and do any clot-busting or install a stint would be if I was in severe pain (I’m not), had skin deterioration (I don’t), or was experiencing over-the-top, unsightly swelling (which I’m not, thankfully). Deep breath… SNIFFFFFF…..

With ALL of that out of the way, I was now free to be the Slack Mother Fucker that I am; I rode 45 minutes on the trainer, I made lunch (a fucking killer vegetable burrito!!), and did some grocery shopping in which I returned with several six packs of Bell’s Hop Slam. Fucking MMMMMmmmmmmmmmmmm!

Thanks for reading all this crap that had nothing to do with riding a bike, or anything even closely resembling the act, much appreciated.


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