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Holy Hose Pipe, Batman!Holy Hose Pipe, Batman!

2003-06-27 - 12:59 p.m.
I came back from lunch yesterday, got my coffee and sat down at my desk and get very absorbed reading about RFC communication protocols, and I figured out how I can move information between SAP and a remote intranet SQL Server. As I pulled my hand back from the mouse, my little finger (which sticks out because of a Tai-Kwon-Do incident some years ago) caught the side of the coffee cup and spilled it directly into my lap.

"Shit! Crap! Goddammit!" I leapt to my feet as the hot coffee roasted my nuts and then started trickling down my legs. I was wearing light tan pants. This was not something I could hide. Two of my buddies that work the help desk were laughing good naturedly at my misfortune.

"You're screwed man, you need to go home". I agreed I mean this wasn't going to go away with a couple of paper towels. I stood there for a minute, letting the coffee seep into my socks, and feeling the now-cold liquid trickle down my leg. JR came around the corner.
"Coffee" I said

"No thanks, I just had one"
Cute.
"I need to...I'll finish off at home...wet.."
He nodded

"Go do what you need to".

I left, grabbing the roll of towels that one of my co-workers produced from nowhere and waddle out to the car. I put some of the towels on the leather seat then got in, and drove home, with the heat turned up inside.

By the time I got into my neighbourhood, I was nearly dry, and my tooth was playing up again. Since I didn't have any Aleve, I stopped off at Wally World and picked some up. I saw a BP machine and thought I'd give it a whirl. 154/97. Heart Rate 100. That seemed a tad high to me. Probably this bloody Atkins diet. All that animal fat swimming through my system. I need to fix this...

I bought the lowest carb bread I could find, got home and made myself 4 slices of toast and some decaf coffee. Checked my email, curled up on the couch and felt sorry for myself.

R. came home, in a ratty mood. 'Ratty' is where every question produces a roll of the eyes, an intake of breath and a slow, short answer.

"How was work?"
Eye Roll, Breath. "O...K"
"What did you have for lunch?"
Eye Roll, Breath. "One...Pork...Cutlet"
Well I'm not allowed to get away with that crap, so she doesn't get to either.
"Why are you in such a ratty mood?" This always brings her up short. She is a kind, gentle person that does not like to feel she is behaving badly towards others. She sighed,

"I don't know, I've been in a ratty mood for the past two days."
Hmmmm...Now R. is not on the Atkins diet. She is Hypoglycemic. Low blood sugar affects her mood. However, for the past two nights she has been eating the same food as me and J., and for lunch she had a pork cutlet. Hmmmm...My blood pressure is up...

"Screw it, I'm ordering pizza"
We sodomized a chicken and mushroom pizza and a box of cheesy bread, then both started to feel better. I felt less pressure in my body. R. actually started going around the room Kissing everyone. Me, the kids, the cats, the fish. Well not the fish exactly, but she did wave her finger at them in an affectionate sort of way. Afterwards she asked "So are you going back on the diet?"
"I don't know. I need to find another way..." I recognized the look of quiet disapproval, since it was one I frequently use whenever her parents call demanding money with menaces.
"I guess I could go back onto it. But I need to get my blood pressure down."
"I'll go on it too, then!" said R., the look disappearing. Uh-huh.
"Cool, okay then."

I slept well, woke up around 7:00 am, walked, worked the work bench and made coffee. R. stayed home today, since J & K are both still here. I emailed JR and told him I would be going to the Doctor's office, and would therefore be late.

I don't have a regular doctor, so I usually end up going to the local Doc-in-the-Box and using whomever is available at the time. Usually they're ok, occasionally I'll get a real wierdo.

But not today, fortunately. Nurse took the BP, which came out at 138/100. As usual, I'd read up about this stuff before I went in. I believe in being an informed patient. If only because it pisses them off and makes them work harder.

"I'm going to give you some anti-biotics to clean you out then come back and see me in a week."

"You mean Diuretic, don't you?"
"What did I say?"
"Antibiotic"
"Oh, err..yes..Diuretic. I meant that, I just said Anti-biotic".

"Riiight..."

So I got my piss-pills, came into work, and this is where you find me. In fact, I need to go now, they seem to be working...

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