Ding-a-Lings & More

First of all, the principal and assistant principal thought my email about the guillotine was hilarious. Not the point, but happy that I could do that for them. They forwarded the email to some guys that apparently know shit about ceiling noises and one of them came out and he could not figure it out so he sent his BFF out to look at it and he was like, "How long have you been hearing these noises?" I told him that I'd been hearing them since I moved in the room. He asked why I did not tell anyone. My response was "I thought it was just me."

Then I realized that made me sound a little crazy and I tried to cover for myself by laughing hysterically. Smooth, Emily.

Anyway, he told me that the loud noises were actually TOILET PIPES. Every time someone flushes, I know it. It is a little disgusting. Now every few seconds I am thinking about how someone is using the bathroom. He promised to see what he could do.

Speaking of falling into my mini-fridge (see how smoothly I transitioned there?), I think I know why I fell. Saturday I woke up with a horrible pain behind my right ear and ended up at Urgent Care. With an actual fever. The horrible doctor told me that I had fluid in both ears. I am thinking that ear fluid probably screws with the equilibrium, you know? So bad sinus infection. And ding-a-ling number one, because she really was an idiot.

Our next stop was the pharmacy, because she gave me a crap-ton of scripts. Let me tell you about my pharmacy. It is filled to the brim with elderly. There is an entire aisle dedicated to adult diapers. I am the youngest person to shop there by about thirty years. This will be important in the story. Sort of.

I stood there with my new prescriptions and my thermometer that I had to purchase in order to monitor my fever, and things then went downhill. The girl at the counter asked with a curled lip if I had a fever. No, honey. I always sweat like this when I am immobile.  Ding-a-ling number two, for making me feel bad about being sick.


I figured that while I was there, I would pick up a prescription that my Snuffy's Disease doctor had called in earlier in the week. One was to be mailed to me, one was to be picked up. Except that the one that was to be mailed he sent to the pharmacy, and the one that was supposed to be at the pharmacy was not there.

At my wit's end, I said of my doctor "He is SUCH a ding-a-ling!". The two hundred year old woman waiting in the endless line behind me steps up and starts rubbing my shoulder. "Honey?" She says to me, "They ALL are."

The end.

P.S. I had a "reaction" to the meds the doctor prescribed and spent the whole night wide awake filled with paranoia and a heart that I was sure was going to jump out of my chest. Like, I actually thought it was going to hop out. Jump across the floor. As my brother would say, I was nuttier than squirrel shit. The next morning I read the warnings on the scripts and they said if you were already a little crazy, you should not take these meds. And now I sit here wondering just how nutty I actually am.

P.P.S. I did not take those meds again, in case you were wondering. I decided to tough out the horrible pain without painkillers and the doctor phoned in a different antibiotic. I am feeling like myself (which according to the warnings, is only slightly sane) and waiting for the pain and sickies to go away. Send happy healthy thoughts my way, please.