Tag Archives: time

The day that got away…

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Some days get away from you unexpectedly. Sometimes you get a sense right from the opening bell that the day is going to be a foot race. Today wasn’t one of those. It slipped away in dribs and drabs, one Teams message or email at a time, until there was nothing left but to call it done.

I don’t necessarily mind days like that. It’s better than being bored to tears… but I’ll admit the writing sufferers a bit when it happens. In fact it was just 15 minutes before normal post time when I realized I didn’t have a thing feed up for Monday evening. A sinking feeling, for sure, but the muses at least let me fiddle around with this minor idea a bit before it was due.

We’re headed into a long holiday weekend – four days and a little extra for me. If I get luck, maybe the next three days will slip by with as little trouble. Then again experience tells me I have no business expecting things to go smoothly, but if it does, it would be an awfully pleasant surprise.

In any case, I rattle this out as fast as my little thumbs would carry me and then promptly forgot to hit “publish,” so I guess we all know now exactly how the week is going to go. Ah, situation normal.

On hard decisions and heartbreak…

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Back in late June, Ivy was the cat who picked me while I visited the local cat rescue’s open house event. While I made the rounds, she followed me from one end of the room to the other and promptly jumped on my lap the moment I sat down. I couldn’t help but be charmed by her endless purring and loving personality. I submitted an adoption application thinking that surely, my sweet, relaxed resident cats would quickly adapt to a charming newcomer.

Following standard “slow introduction” procedures, the first week went well. They progressed rapidly from sniffing at a closed door, to eating on either side of the door, to observing each other through a baby gate, and eventually watching one another with the door open. Past that, things got awkward. 

As soon as Ivy had leeway to explore the house, Anya and Cordy retreated under the bed. Ok, back up to the prior stage of introduction and try again in a few days. This was when we entered the wash, rinse, and repeat phase of attempted introductions – with Ivy desperate to meet her new housemates and them hissing and spitting any time she got close. Rather than improving with exposure, Anya particularly became increasingly resistant and, in some cases, violent no matter how hard Ivy worked to project “friendly” body language. 

For the better part of two weeks, I ran the household in two shifts – With Anya and Cordy tucked in my bedroom from 5 AM to 5 PM and Ivy returned to her “safe room” from 5 PM – 5 AM. It was my misguided hope that as their scents and smells combined in the house, paraphs they’d desensitize to one another. 

Cat Reddit is filled with internet experts that will say six weeks was not nearly enough time to settle things – that it can take months or years for integrate adult cats. If anything, I feel like there’s a lot of talk in the rescue community decrying that adult cats are so often left in shelters and rescues month after month while kittens and youngsters fly out the doors. I always assumed that was a simple function of the “cuteness factor,” but I now have a sneaking suspicion that adult cats are so often overlooked, in part, because introducing adult cats and convincing them to live together can be a nightmare – or at least a significant unplanned hardship that the average person isn’t equipped to deal with. 

Having had many dogs and cats over the years, I consider myself reasonably animal savvy, but I was absolutely unprepared to continue on for month after month with Cordelia and Anya angry and chased out of their home while Ivy was increasingly confused by why she was being cast back into isolation every night. By the end, I suspect it had become a not particularly happy way of life for any of us. Capped off with three scuffles across Friday evening and Saturday morning when trying to re-initiate brief introductions again. 

To their credit, the rescue was incredibly understanding when I reached out to say I needed to bring Ivy back to them. I’d been keeping them up to date with the struggles, so maybe it wasn’t much of a surprise. I suspect the whole experience may have been more traumatizing to me than to Ivy. I opened her carrier at the rescue and she walked out without a moment’s hesitation, head butted the nearest cat, and made herself at home immediately. She was more comfortable and welcome in that room with 10 or 12 other cats in 30 seconds than Anya and Cordy had made her feel in six weeks.

I’ll never think of this period as one of my best moments. I’ll always wonder if there was something more that I could have tried or if hanging on for another week could have made any difference. I’ll probably never get away from thinking that sheer willpower is enough to drag things over the line, but in this case, seeing how Ivy reacted back in the rescue on Saturday and then how relaxed Anya and Cordy were on Sunday is probably the real sign that this particular hard decision was the right one. 

I wish doing the right thing didn’t so often involve being absolutely heartbroken. I really do miss that sweet calico girl.

Is the juice still worth the squeeze…

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I’m tired. I thought when I cut back the posting to twice a week I might catch my breath. Maybe I have. Maybe the writing is even just a touch better and more cogent than it was when I was trying to churn out five a week. The fact remains that I’m tired. I’m tired of shouting into the electronic void. I’m tired of feeling like an increasingly isolated voice of sanity in a world determined to spin violently off the rails and drown in an ocean of screeching religious, social, political, and economic extremists. American “Christians” collectively losing their shit after entirely missing the point of the Olympic opening ceremonies leaves me wondering if it’s even worth trying to be anything other than a partisan wackjob. Is there even room for a voice that isn’t doing its damndest to be way out on the extremes? 

Maybe I’m just tired of giving a shit at all about forces operating well beyond my span of control or influence. Is it time to hunker down, circle the wagons, and focus on the thing on which I can exert some influence? After 4,043 posts, I’m not sure keeping on with this is the right answer. I’m not sure it’s doing much beyond creating its own little echo chamber. Sometimes I wonder if keeping on my soapbox isn’t, in fact, actively leaving me worse overall than I’d be if I just let the world’s fuckery roll past and around rather than sitting with it long enough to write down a few paragraphs of thoughts on the topic of the week.

I expect there’s not much that will ever stop me from writing, but maybe it’s time to go all the way back to basics. Maybe it’s time that I’m writing exclusively for myself without even the slightest consideration of an audience ever having eyes on it. That’s the kind of thing that doesn’t feed the ego, but it’s possible that might not be such a bad thing either. 

As I sit here tapping this out, I’m part conflicted, part disenchanted, part disappointed, part disgusted, and perhaps just a touch irrationally optimistic that there’s a chance we can pull up before burring the whole American experiment nose first into the ground at a high rate of speed. If we can’t, I don’t know that I have it in me to keep plastering over the wreckage with cynical commentary week after week. 

This isn’t an announcement or even a decision to stop so much as it’s a recognition that at some point I may just throw up my hands and walk away in disgust. At some point it all just becomes too absurd to carry on as if we haven’t entered a truly bizarre era in history. On the other hand, it’s the sort of thing that means having an inexhaustible supply of things to write about or comment on… so color me conflicted. 

The most insulting loss of all…

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I had a whole post teed up from over the weekend. It should have been sitting here safely waiting on me to do some final edits in Word before dropping it over into WordPress for publication. However, it’s currently not sitting anywhere on my computer. There’s no record that I even edited or saved any documents over the weekend. It’s also not in WordPress. Not in my drafts, not sitting in my scheduled posts file, or anywhere else.

It has well and truly disappeared. And frankly, I don’t have the energy to put into trying to recreate it from scratch.

As of a couple of weeks ago, I’ve officially made 4,000 separate blog posts dating way, way back to February 2010. I say 4000, because that’s how many I’ve written – well, 4,004 including this one. I’ve only made 3,989 of them public. Believe me when I tell you the ones that are sitting there in private mode are some real humdingers. Most of them won’t see the light of day until after I retire, if then. They’re the few examples of times I couldn’t tell the story while obscuring at least some identifying elements slipping through. 

In any case, after 4,000+ posts, you can count on one or two fingers the number of times I’ve simply had one of them eaten whole. That’s the entire reason for my workflow of writing everything first in Word. I don’t expect this to become a common occurrence, but it does mean I’m going to have to take some time coming up with a better failsafe. I’ve got too many things sitting here in various stages of draft to worry that they’re going to randomly start disappearing.

At least I’m not getting paid for this, so all I’ve lost is time… though that may be the most insulting loss of all. 

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Metrics. One of the things the medicos have had me doing for the last six months is a much more frequent bit of at home tracking. Blood sugar, heart rate, blood pressure, blood oxygen, everything gets tracked. It’s a fine bit of trivia and something that could theoretically be helpful for them, but all it seems to have done for me is generate a new obsession and a lot of fresh anxiety when a rogue value pops up or I see an unanticipated trend develop. While I don’t dispute the value of knowing a more granular level of detail, I can tell you with certainty that even though I was certainly less healthy six months ago than I am now, I absolutely felt better before I knew any of the specifics.

2. Time. By my calculation, it should be December 29th. Somehow, though, the calendar says it’s February 2nd. That can’t possibly be right, can it? I don’t know exactly the age I was when time started to speed up, but I seem to be noticing it speed by at an almost alarming pace these days. Oddly, it doesn’t make the work days seem any shorter, but the pace of moving from one week to the next is getting quite out of hand. I have no idea how one cuts back on the throttle there, but something must be done.

3. Taxes. I switched my Roth IRA from one institution to another this year. During the transition, I managed to add in about $50 more than is allowable by law. The penalty, if left uncorrected, is something like a 6% fine for every year the extra money remains in the account. It was easy enough to fix with a call to the company who holds the account, but the real absurdity is how little our common Uncle Sam will allow you to put away to grow for untaxed future withdrawals. There are articles posted regularly decrying how the Average American will be woefully unprepared for retirement. It seems to me that one way to get after that issue would be to dramatically increase the amount that people can legally shelter from the long arm of the tax man.

The future of mindless scrolling…

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I recently bit the bullet and signed up with Mastodon. I’m not saying it finally happened because Elon Musk went through the convolutions of trying to rebrand Twitter overnight and he’s increasingly using the platform as a mouthpiece for Russian propaganda, but it’s absolutely a contributing factor.

I’ll freely admit that I have gotten spoiled by Twitter’s ability to aggregate most of the information that I want – especially in the breaking national and international news and pop culture categories. Whether that ends up being enough of a reason to stick around remains to be seen. 

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that my screwing around trying to set up my account on Mastodon didn’t raise (or reinforce) other, larger questions about my consumption of social media. I wonder if there’s much actual value beyond self-advertising and self-aggrandizement to compulsively flicking from Facebook to Twitter to Instagram to Threads to Mastodon – especially as the social media universe further fragments. I wonder if perhaps it’s time to descope my online presence rather than continue to add to it. Of course I’ve been wondering about that for a long while.

It’s a question of value added. Am I getting more out of these platforms than I’m sinking into their upkeep and maintenance. With a little honest self-reflection, the answer to that question is probably no. They’re all burning up time that I could likely reallocate to some higher purpose.

I’m not going to launch into a screed about mindfulness or any of that nonsense. There are times when pure, mindless scrolling is precisely what’s called for… but maybe it would be for the better for me if it were happening just a little less frequently. Whether I’ll do anything about that or just let inertia carry me along, though, remains to be seen.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. The good idea fairy. The GIF is a pernicious feature of life in the bureaucracy. Its mission is to take projects or programs that are perfectly fine, even serviceable, and sprinkle them at the last possible minute with pixie dust and render them stupid, painful to execute, or optimally both. Having great ideas is fine, but when your idea of the week generates a minimum 80-hour per year manpower requirement when you’ve just lost one of three employees, it might not be a particularly good time to launch this new crusade. But hey, if the powers that be want me to spend my time following grown ass adults making sure they’ve cleaned up after themselves, I’ll do it all day long… but they shouldn’t be surprised when a whole laundry list of other “very important activities” just doesn’t get touched.

2. Data mining. My insurance company partnered with a company doing “free” A1C testing at home. Fine. I’ll share a bit of medical privacy for a free test. But dudes you’ve got to make it easy. I walk into the doctor’s office every six months (or more often lately), they jab my finger and my A1C number appears in my online patient portal before the doctor has even walked into the exam room. By contrast you gave me two columns of instructions that included “let the sample air dry for 3 hours before packaging” and then “it must be shipped the same day.” Either make it easy to go along with your data gathering scheme or bugger directly off.

3. Breakfast on office days. On days I’m stuck going into the office, I used to just swing through McDonald’s and grab an egg McMuffin. It was the definition of quick, easy, and simple. Now I’m making breakfast at home. It’s not that I don’t make a tasty breakfast so much as the process is a massive time suck. Instead of scarfing down my egg sandwich at my desk or in the car, I’ve got a full meal to prep and clean up before I’ve even left the house for the day. It’s reduced my morning reading time on office days to practically nothing. That makes it a pain in the ass with very little ROI besides a vague “healthiness” that doesn’t do much to improve my general mood in the mornings.

What Annoys Jeff this Week?

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1. Results. I’m a reasonably intelligent man with a fairly analytical mind, but I’m at a loss for what to do when results from something like an MRI drop into my online patient portal long before my doctor has a chance to look at and comment on them. As wide as my academic interests are, it’s never ranged as far as internal medicine, so the reports end up being a lot of gibberish with lines, arrows, and color codes that mean precisely nothing to me. That, of course, doesn’t prevent me from using Google to try gleaning a bit of understanding… which never results in anything other than low grade panic or mild confusion. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I almost miss the olden days when the doctor received the report and the patient didn’t know dick about it until the medical professionals called to explain what’s what. I’m not at all sure this current model of complete transparency is helping me in any way.

2. Retirement. In my little slice of Uncle’s big green machine, there are 3 people who do more or less what I do. We’ve been a decent little team for the last half a decade or so. One of the three (lucky bastard) is retiring in a few days. His backfill is nowhere in sight. With three people, in all but the most extraordinary circumstances, we could work around everyone’s schedules and keep the trains running on time. With two, well, I’ve already identified two days that’ll be listed with “no coverage” in the next two months. That number will explode when the other guy adds his scheduled time off to the mix. All of that’s before we’ve even talked about the week or two gap for Christmas and New Year’s. None of those issues should be surprising. We’ve been warning the bosses about it for months. But not to worry… there’s allegedly a “temporary” fill-in coming and the bosses are going to hire a permanent replacement with all the speed and agility the U.S. Government is famous for displaying. With the pace at which the bureaucracy moves, I don’t expect to see either of those things happen until well after the new year, if ever. The only thing I know for sure is that for the foreseeable future, there’s going to be 24 manhours per day of work to do and only 16 manhours of personnel on hand to do it. The math, as they say, just doesn’t math. I know I won’t magically be doing an extra 4 hours of whatever every day, so I reckon the powers that be should probably get prepared for a diminished baseline of productivity and discovering that they’re just going to have to wait until we get around to some things. That’ll go over like a fart in church, but this was an issue that could have been addressed any time in the last six months…  so, I’ll be damned if I’ll be treating the inevitable result of bureaucratic fuckery as any kind of emergency for me. 

3. Exercise. Everyone on the internet loves to tell you that “once exercise becomes part of your routine, you’ll love it.” Maybe that’s true for them, but for me, I can assure you that no, the fuck I will not. Every daily walk or session on the exercise bike is 30-40 minutes I’m allocating under protest, because it’s sucking up an incredibly finite resource that I’d much rather put towards reading, or writing, or anything that I might even partially enjoy. Maybe it’s better than being stabbed in the kidney, but as something to pass the time, exercise is easily the least enjoyable part of my day. I’ll do it because it’s being required of me by someone who has far more knowledge about modern medical theory and practice than I have. Still, there isn’t a power on earth or in heaven that can convince me I’m having a good time. 

Firing my vet…

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To put the bottom line up front, I’m going to have to fire my current vet.

Given how often I find myself in need of veterinary services, I feel like that’s a statement that probably deserves some follow up. The fact is, I like my current vet. They’ve got a beautiful new facility. The docs and staff are consistently good to work with during appointments.

Unfortunately, it’s getting those appointments in the first palace that’s causing the trouble. I called yesterday afternoon, wanting to get an appointment for Jorah. He’s got a lot of the classic signs of an ear infection. It’s one of those things that’s not going to trigger a high speed run to the emergency vet, but that should get treated sooner rather than later. After I explained his symptoms, the receptionist offered me a choice of appointments on July 9th or 11th. I’m sorry. What? I’m sure some people will let their animals linger, in pain and possibly getting worse for the better part of three weeks for an appointment, but I’m not one of them.

They didn’t offer the option of a drop off appointment or even ask if I wanted to get on the cancellation list.

I’m not putting their name on blast here, because I know the veterinary industry is currently under a phenomenal amount of pressure and doing it while perennially understaffed. Although I understand the overall issue, that’s not going to get in the way of me using every resource I can bring to bear to get Jorah, Anya, Cordelia, or George the treatment they need in a timely manner.

In any case, I do want to voice my appreciation for Middletown Veterinary Hospital for getting Jorah scheduled for an appointment – as a new patient – in less than 48 hours from the time I called. They’re the place that did Cordy’s spay last week since my current vet of record was scheduling those out into August and September.

Based on the sum total of experiences getting this menagerie of mine vetted over the last few months, the only logical thing to do is start the process of getting the three furry ones transferred over to Middletown while I’m there tomorrow. Getting all their files transferred will be a hassle. It’s going to add 20 minutes to every trip to the vet. Unfortunately, it can’t be helped. The vet I’m firing was awfully promising, but all the promise in the world is wasted when it takes the better part of a month to get basic care.

Fair warning for the weeks ahead…

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The next two weeks are going to be dicey – at least in terms of getting anything resembling quality content and commentary ready to post. I’m not saying they’ll be non-existent, just that we’ll probably skip some days and the quality may be off on some others. A lot of what the immediate future holds will depend entirely on how I feel when I schlep home at the end of each day.

Being a creature who thrives on consistency, this will be a period of anything but. Add in most likely being able to reintroduce Anya to the mix in the middle of this stretch and we’re on the hook to have two weeks of anything but ordinary.

I never doubt my ability to trek through the batshittiest of batshit crazy days, but I do recognize that if something’s got to give, this bit of daily writing and editing will most likely be what I temporarily toss over the side first. Oh, I’m sure there will still be updates – and probably a fair amount of ranting and raving – just don’t expect it to land on time or with quite the normal level of penash or polish.