Monday, March 28, 2016

From The IRS...

Just got an email. The IRS says they have my refund as I requested. It's nearly $3,000. All I need to do is click on the attachment with the cute little zipper logo and get further instructions on how to claim it. Should be easy. It comes with an 8-digit number to verify my claim.

Let's see. The URL is from something I've never heard of, but it's got "National" in its name. Good sign, right? Dot com, of course. Not dot gov. Not even anything to reliably indicate what country the email originates from. Had I claimed a refund - which in itself is peculiar, as I've never paid in this year, not yet filed, would never have overpaid by that much, and would have had any such deposited directly into my checking account - it wouldn't be acknowledged this way.

Even in my fever-addled state, I know at least that much! Come to think of it, in my fever-addled state, I wouldn't even have tried to navigate through any kind of paperwork, and the more important it was, the less likely I'd try.

Oh yes. I am running a fever. I have now for three days. It took me a while to figure it out. I know, dumb, huh? I just haven't had one in years so it took me a while to put fever, chills, fever, chills together and decide it wasn't the house changing temperatures, it was me. If I thought it was anything at all, I just figured it was my post-surgical body trying to figure itself out. How could I be running a fever, anyway? I'm taking Percoset with 325 mg tylenol, 800 mg ibuprofin, and 325 mg aspirin twice each day, with more ibuprofin filling in the middle spots for pain relief. Where does fever get a chance?

There is an infection somewhere. Urgent Care says it doesn't seem to either be in, or have migrated to, my knee, though they told me what to watch for. There are no other symptoms other than being unusually stupid,  feeling like crap, and being unable to regulate between overheating and chills, but they decided under the circumstances to err on the side of caution and prescribe an antibiotic. That was after eliminating a UTI as the infection source: that requires a different medicine.

No, I can't tell you the name. I've never heard of it before. I read the label. Twice. I still don't know what it is. I just take it. I could tell you but I'd have to wander down to the bathroom to copy the name off the label for you, and that would be a whole lot like work. Probably spike my temperature again, as well as wear me out. Ordinary bathroom runs do that too right now.

I'm saving the rest of my morning's ambition to locate the phone number for the PT folks and cancel today's session. Either somebody there last week shared something, or if I go I'd be sharing something. Bad either way.

Meanwhile this morning's crazy dreams can work on spending that $3 grand I'm not getting. So much better than dreaming I'm back in school, or falling off the high oil rig platform into an Easter egg pastel color swirled polka dotted ocean of ice cold water. (I ran that last one through my head about a dozen times until I finally landed in the stuff before waking up and found even in my dreams I cannot, after all, breathe under water. Come to think of it, that was about when the fever started.) At least there haven't been the usual assortment of work dreams, the kind where I can't deliver the package because I can't read (anything, much less a label), lost my map book, am in the wrong city or country, need to get my car fixed/returned/whatever first, am still in my PJs at home, or whatever block my normal brain can throw in my way. I hate to think what it would come up with from a fever.

My guys are taking care of me. Steve is sleeping in at the moment. So is Paul, despite my letting the dogs out/in having to walk past his futon on the lanai. He's been painting the hallway and doing a half dozen other little (or not so little) chores and hoping I'll recover soon so we can go play tourist. That, and because he hopes I'll be better soon, of course.

PT will be open soon, so I better go find that phone number. Then I can snooze some more, in between piling on and taking off my blanket and heading down the hall and back.

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