Morning adventures!
Sep. 19th, 2003 12:47 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quislibetThis morning I managed to overlayer against the elements. All I have accomplished, however, is to ensure that in addition to being wet on the outside, I am somewhat sweaty on the inside of my clothes. How charming.
Cardiologist appointment this morning; a simple follow-up. All is well, but I still have to go in at least once more a month from now. Annoyances include that I had to go to the university's health services office this morning before going to the cardiologist's to get referral paperwork, as the student insurance period has begun anew since my last visit there. And then, after I had seen the cardiologist, I had to wait for about forty-five minutes until they could tell me when I should come in next. It wasn't clear why they couldn't just tell me by phone when they'd worked it out for themselves.
The coffee I bought was really weak! And Speeder and Earl apparently expect those wanting decaffeinated iced coffee to pour under-regular-strength brew over a cup of ice! My god!
As it was, I dumped the ice before pouring in the coffee, and, after a few sips, I dumped the coffee itself, for even without the diluting ice it was just sort of brown-tasting. There's still a pretty good reason why I shouldn't drink any coffee whatsoever, not even decaf (although so far I have been spared my mother's difficulties with the blessed stuff), but I do it for the flavor, man. Just for the taste of it, like diet Coke, only with a good taste.
Well, when it does, in fact, have a good taste; that was not the case this morning, let me tell you. I have decided that, in general, I will now be impatient of things that are bad for me and yet bring no pleasure, even if they cost me a dollar. Perhaps this glimmering of pseudo-Epicurean wisdom will lead, ultimately, to that treasured state of ataraxia (just not under the current government).
I saw this on a truck as I walked to my office this morning:
Overheard from an adjacent room while waiting in the cardiologist's office: "You don't have a pig heart?" "No! I [unintelligible]." "Well, as long as you have someone's and it works!"
Despite being wet, I enjoyed my walk from the doctor's office on Beacon Street to my own here on Comm. Ave. Somehow, in those few blocks between the two mighty urban boulevards, the good people of Brookline, Mass., have managed to sandwich in some rather nice parks and such. It always takes me by surprise.
Cardiologist appointment this morning; a simple follow-up. All is well, but I still have to go in at least once more a month from now. Annoyances include that I had to go to the university's health services office this morning before going to the cardiologist's to get referral paperwork, as the student insurance period has begun anew since my last visit there. And then, after I had seen the cardiologist, I had to wait for about forty-five minutes until they could tell me when I should come in next. It wasn't clear why they couldn't just tell me by phone when they'd worked it out for themselves.
The coffee I bought was really weak! And Speeder and Earl apparently expect those wanting decaffeinated iced coffee to pour under-regular-strength brew over a cup of ice! My god!
As it was, I dumped the ice before pouring in the coffee, and, after a few sips, I dumped the coffee itself, for even without the diluting ice it was just sort of brown-tasting. There's still a pretty good reason why I shouldn't drink any coffee whatsoever, not even decaf (although so far I have been spared my mother's difficulties with the blessed stuff), but I do it for the flavor, man. Just for the taste of it, like diet Coke, only with a good taste.
Well, when it does, in fact, have a good taste; that was not the case this morning, let me tell you. I have decided that, in general, I will now be impatient of things that are bad for me and yet bring no pleasure, even if they cost me a dollar. Perhaps this glimmering of pseudo-Epicurean wisdom will lead, ultimately, to that treasured state of ataraxia (just not under the current government).
I saw this on a truck as I walked to my office this morning:
Overheard from an adjacent room while waiting in the cardiologist's office: "You don't have a pig heart?" "No! I [unintelligible]." "Well, as long as you have someone's and it works!"
Despite being wet, I enjoyed my walk from the doctor's office on Beacon Street to my own here on Comm. Ave. Somehow, in those few blocks between the two mighty urban boulevards, the good people of Brookline, Mass., have managed to sandwich in some rather nice parks and such. It always takes me by surprise.
