Half an afternoon of playing phone tag with my gastroenterologist’s nurse finally established that. Whatever I have, celiac disease likely ain’t it. This still leaves open the question of just what I do have. I need to get by the lab to have a draw done for a new set of tests my GP wants to look over. (I hate these differential-diagnosis diseases, where the doctor has to decide what I have by figuring out what I don’t have.)
One thing I’m about to have, provided UPS holds up their end of the bargain and delivers tomorrow, is this. There’s a sale on for small and medium businesses, and if you say that’s what you are (through next Sunday, anyhow) you get $100 off the list price and free UPS ground shipping. I resurrected Waring Stuph for the occasion (and I still intend, one of these days, to resurrect it for real) so for $299 plus tax I’m going to have a color laser printer!
This week is the city’s semi-annual big-trash pickup in our neighborhood, so I dragged a collection of Junque out to the front curb: a dilapidated mattress set, ditto bicycle, scrap wood, a broken child’s easel, a chair used in a bar fight that’s now missing a leg, a pair of broken, rusty and peeling lawn chairs, a disintegrating formica-and-particle-board patio table. It’s remarkable how much better the back corner of the lot looks with all that crap gone. The next project, which can’t happen for two weeks, is to chain onto those fuckin’ mildewed euonymus bushes on the north side of the house and use Piet to snatch them out of the ground. (Note to self: get under Piet and find a place you can attach the chain without ripping off the back bumper.)
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