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So today when I went to get my mail, I discovered I had gotten a new Master Card debit card from my bank.  This time, there was only the card, no letter telling me my info had been compromised.  Just this new card.  So, I call the bank, and gave the lady who answered the whole spiel about how they’d sent me a card a while back with a letter, etc.  She said there’d been a problem with about five customers, including her son — and me apparently — , having their info compromised, and Amazon seemed to be the culprit this time.   At her direction, I shredded the old card and got the new one activated.

I also got a notice from the VA that I had an appointment to get my CT scan in Amarillo on the 31st, which is right at two weeks away, so I wrote an impassioned email to the VA about how my dentist has x-ray proof that I have a bone infection in the bone between my teeth and my maxillary sinus and how I am in danger of losing that tooth, etc., etc.  You practically have to go all John Cleese from the Dead Parrot sketch to get the VA to do anything in a timely manner.  Dealing with them is like trying to push a rope.  So they called and now I have an appointment tomorrow.  In Amarillo.  Oh, joy.  I’ll be driving.  At least I won’t have to ride that rattletrap old VA bus and be crammed in cheek by jowl with all those fat sweaty men.

And while I’m on the phone with the VA, I get a phone call and let it go to voice mail.  It’s sneaking up on 5 o’clock when I listen to the voice mail informing me that they’ve cancelled my new credit card and I’m to shred it and keep using the old one.  Which I’ve already shredded.  And I’m going to Amarillo.  Tomorrow.  And it’s too late to call the bank because they’ve already gone home for the day.

Well, payday is not until next week, and I’ve only got $9.72 in the bank anyway, but  I do have $27 in cash in my wallet, and my mom says come over and I’ll front you some money til payday.  I dash over to mom’s, she writes me a check and I dash off to the bank (the motor bank is open til 6 p.m.).  I put the check, the deposit slip, the new debit card, and my driver’s license in the little pneumatic container and sent it thwooshing up to the teller, and go into the song and dance about the debit card, and how I’ve shredded the old one already and is this one still valid, and it is.  Whew!

And in between my apartment and my mom’s house, and all along that stretch of Loop 289, and all up Quaker Avenue, there are rampantly blooming ornamental pear trees.  I came straight in the door of my apartment and into the half bath and downed a generic Sudafed and a generic Mucinex, (I almost said “inhaled them” but my nose was too stuffed up to breath through by then) and it still took me over an hour to stop sneezing and twhonking my nose.

I need to get something to eat, take another dose of antibiotic and get on Google Maps and write down which highways I need to take and which turns I make where, which I’ll write in big letters and tape to my dashboard.  It’s a pretty straight shot.  The VA Hospital is right on the western edge of town.  It only takes about an hour and 45 minutes to drive one way — unless you take the VA bus and have to stop and pick up and let off people ten or fifteen times along the way.  I won’t have to wait for the bus.  I can just leave when I’m through and come home.  My appointment is at 3 p.m., but if I get there earlier, the radiology tech said they would try to work me in.  I’m going to try to get there by about 10:30, and I’ll take some knitting.

Now I have to call first thing in the morning and tell the Brace Place that I have to reschedule the appointment to get my new orthotic shoe inserts.  Maybe I can get them to schedule me Wednesday afternoon, after I get the Corolla serviced.

Oh, and did I mention, the people upstairs moved out!  They moved out last Friday.  The thundering herd is gone. The silence is blessed.  I had no compunction about using the vacuum to clean up around the cat box at 1 a.m. after work Sunday night.  And according to the apartment maintenance guy, I’m getting a new dishwasher.  They were just going to order me some new racks for the old dishwasher, but they were so expensive that it was cheaper to just go ahead and replace the whole thing.  And the new track for the closet door has come in.  Now, if the maintenance guy can just find time to come do those two things. . .

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