Free At Last! ...Uh, Maybe?

The newest covid tests from Walmart are 1: pricey, and 2: weird.  I've taken enough of the older version that I no longer need instructions. Unfortunately there are no longer any of the older versions that aren't too old. Expired. The new tests took several readings to go through so I could set up and know what should come next and how many times or for how long for each step. But my doc's staff had said to try again Thursday, and this was Thursday.

It was negative. I broke the little tail from the swab off (I did say weird, right?) and packed the test into my pocketbook, headed off to the imaging company for my x-ray... and got turned away again. It wasn't because I only had one negative test. I'd called in advance and asked if that was sufficient proof that I was over it. It was. But they looked up my orders and couldn't find any. Even before leaving the house I contacted the doc's staff and let them know. Before hanging up I was assured she was faxing it right over to them. I even dawdled a bit, popping in to the club first for ten minutes or so to say, "Hi," and twenty minutes later, as the "or so" stretched into, headed to imaging. None of that delaying did any good. The orders hadn't shown up yet. My gas tank was complaining, so I spent some time figuring out the new system our local grocery store has for getting a discount per gallon based on dollars spent in a month, before heading home.

It was still muggier than hell from two day's rain plus the occasional passing sprinkle yet today, all totaling up to about 4/5 inch in the rain gauge. So I came in and killed some time, going over the to-do-once-you-can-see-people-again list. I'd already dealt with the plumber the day before. Weed killer had been purchased, a grocery order delivered. There still were appointments to make and write on the calendar, including a call to jury duty early next month. I finally did the one call I've been putting off since getting home: contacting the sheriff's department to report the break in and thefts. That was before lunch, They said they would send out a deputy. It's beyond supper time now, not that I've eaten. I'm still waiting.

I could have let it slide longer, gone to the vet's office for a new certificate stating that the dog is still properly vaccinated for rabies to renew her license another year. I could have gone to visit my friend in hospice and brought her a couple of those wonderful, juicy Palisade peaches still left in the box in the fridge. I could have called another friend and made pool walking plans.

Maybe they think because I waited to call them until I was no longer contagious for sure that it wasn't important? Maybe there's a lot of REAL crime going on out there, however they define that? There have been a lot of golf cart thefts around here over the summer, and none of them are showing up for sale locally. I do try to avoid most of the local TV who-just-got-shot news, just fast forwarding through for the weather reports, so maybe the deputies are having a really bad day.  

But still.

About two hours ago I had enough. I wasn't about to call them back and listen to their recordings for 13 minutes again just to hear a human voice and get an excuse. I'll do that tomorrow if needed. So I grabbed the hand pruners and took out my frustrations on the thorn tree in the back yard. I'd had it pruned up before leaving so I could walk up close to it without getting stabbed... 83 times from each side. Right now there are a lot of tender green thorns... OK, branches, lying all around under the tree to give the local rabbits a feast for a couple nights before I gather what's left, clip one last time into tiny compactable bits, and bag them to toss in the garbage. Double bag, likely. I do like our garbage crew and would hate to antagonize them. As I left I just made sure both Steve and I had our phones handy so he could call me if/when they showed. As if! 

It's a lovely sunset, time to turn on the house lights, figure out supper, and watch some TV. Maybe that will bring them around, just in time to make supper cold. Ya think?

I'd also really just like to crawl into my comfy jammies and get out of these pinchy scratchy suitable-for-public clothes.  Hey guys...?  Are you coming? I'm not going to shoot somebody to get your undivided attention over here. It's only a fantasy at this point, seriously!

Oh wait! There's the knock on the door, the deputy uniform.... OK, nevermind all the complaints. Dusting powder for prints too? Cool!

SCREWED By Southwest Gas!

There have now been over half a dozen phone calls with SW GAS about their failure to shut off my gas this summer as requested, and billing me for the fact my water heater has still been heating water. I initiated the first ones. Lately the calls have been coming in from them. I'm not going to try to pick which call was about what exactly, but as a whole, here is the final story. Or you can consider the title the spoiler and move on. 

But where's the fun in that?

First, they have determined their failure to shut off the gas initially when requested is actually their recent policy. Blame covid.They start with a "soft shut off" at their office, where the gas still runs in whatever might still be on, like my water heater.  They just shift your bill to themselves during this time. Of course, the bill is only half the reason I shut off the gas while on a long vacation. (Try not to let your house explode while you're on vacation folks. I mean, by then who can afford another motel?)

Then they shift to a hard shut off some time later. In our case, I was told it had been done on July 8. Obviously it hadn't been done, but the paperwork for it had been sent through as a done deal.  Many questions later , looking at paperwork, "possibly" talking to the person responsible for the deed, suddenly a new story emerges. "They were told when they got to the house not to shut it off."

Seriously? By whom? No info on that, of course. It wasn't by me, the only person with a name on that account, 1800 miles away, give or take a few, on the day in question. It wasn't Steve, the other homeowner. It wasn't Rich. This leaves me with two possibilities,  if I choose to believe that story. Either our vandalizing nemesis who now is supposed to be sitting in a federal prison for arson, and who was practicing his "craft" in a variety of small ways inside the house while he was pretending to be Rich's friend, just happened to stop the shut off for his own nefarious reasons like wanting to burn our house down in addition to his parent's house, or the solar installation people were working on the roof that day, mistook the gas company employee for somebody doing an electrical shut off and thought they were doing a good thing. That latter presupposes the gas person didn't use a company truck or wear a company uniform, or the solar people were meddling idiots.

If I choose to believe the alleged story, and not that a lazy employee couldn't be bothered to do their job, it still was not coming from anybody authorized to stop the shutoff I ordered. On the phone at least, I have to identify myself three different ways before they will even talk to me about any details of my account and its history. So I'm really having a problem with an anonymous person claiming the authority to countermand my shut-off order. Something is very wrong with that. Think SW Gas will accept responsibility?

Let's also note that nobody notified me via email, their usual way of contact, that my gas was not in fact shut off, or that the meter was in fact still running because gas was in fact still being used against my  orders. It also does not explain why their system still insisted I needed it turned back on if they knew it hadn't been turned off. I never received a bill which would have alerted me to the issue, not until late August when I got one for two months of use. I was in transit and did not have time right then to call the gas company to figure out what had gone wrong.

Once I did, they had no answers yet but I was advised to pay the bills just to keep in their good graces, and try to get a later discount or refund for their error.

In the process of working to find out why I still had gas on, and why they insisted on coming to the house to turn the gas back on and inspect all our gas appliances, even though they by then realized they had not in fact shut any gas off, and were going through multiple contortions to find an excuse not to come out (which they were only finally motivated to do once I mentioned I still had covid and was contagious, not wanting any visitors inside the house) they still insisted on sending me the email on the previously scheduled return day stating they had been out and completed their turn-back-on task. A known lie of course, which stank of CYA aimed at whoever was looking over their shoulders.

The account had now been declared as being "continuously active" as their only way out of that visit. Thus the final chomp in the ass. And thus their final verdict that I was responsible for paying both months' worth of gas bills. But hey, they were doing me the favor of not charging for the month plus a couple days when the "soft shutoff" was in place.

I was too angry to do anything but hang up on the company stooge who told me that. Mother's training is still holding all these years later. She would have hated hearing everything I felt like saying. It would definitely not have been polite!

If I ever get in a position where I can afford to replace appliances, you can bet I'll be switching to all electric. At least I can flip the proper switches on the breaker box to shut down all but the solar controls, then put another padlock on the cover, the way we handle summer vacation electric use. Then I can also flip Southwest Gas...OFF!

Yard Surprises

We came home to lots of not-so-wonderful (ha!) surprises. I've started getting out in the yard now and finding both kinds of surprises out there as well. The nice ones? Mostly what didn't die. Not so nice? What did, of course. And depending on my mood, the amount of yard work ahead can go on either list. That mood of course fluctuates with the amount of heat out there and whether I feel like going out early in the morning.

Let's end on a happy point, so I'll start with what didn't make it. So far that list is small,  just like the plants were. There were three struggling young octopus agaves in the back yard when we left that now aren't even a dead reminder. At least somebody cleaned up. Add those to the two which died last summer and it means 7 babies remain, in various states of health, depending on how far from a water source they are, even if that source is roof runoff. The original, supposed to die without any new bottom shoots after flowering, defiantly sent out a healthy offset, already bigger than the original when it was two years old.

The blue super thorny agaves planted in a row along the house with the original octopus have both bloomed. The dead first one was removed last year. I cut the blooming stalk of the second one before it bloomed and it is looking healthy. It should be dead too if I understand these agaves at all. Other kinds like ones in the backyard along the fence send out lots of ground offshoots, but these aren't supposed to, kind of a relief from the close contact stabbings from the originals. I haven't checked to see if any babies have emerged from where the first of the blues bloomed, because, frankly, it's just too darn crowded there. With the first dead parent gone, a pair of lantana volunteers took up residence last year. My original intent was to let one live, but I've changed my mind. They need too much pruning, getting leggy awfully fast. Put those on the to-do list.

So far everything across the front yard seems to have survived, especially the weeds.  Soon as it gets cooler, or within 30 days of the next nasty letter from the homeowner's association, they will get removed. I plan to start using a pre-emergent on the front yard to cut those things down. Double jobs for the to-do list. The volunteer prickly pear, emphasis on very long pricklies (spines), has about doubled its number of pads over the summer, but failed to produce successful fruits. There are however shriveled miniature ones needing to be plucked away by a long tool. More for the to-do list, starting with locating a tool to pluck those safely. Hmmm, really, really, really long tongs? Are there any gauntlets on the premises?

The job that just kept gnawing at me since the car pulled into the driveway this month was the ponytail palm. While it's still alive, I've left three years worth of dying and dead leaves on it in order to protect new growth from the four months of hot sunshine they get where it is planted. New growth tends to sunburn after 8 months shade from the house. So with a comfy chair, scissors, and huge bucket, all the totally dead-back-to-the-trunk old leaves and most of the nearly dead ones still clinging stubbornly got removed, either by hand or scissors. This plant has history. I picked it up in Wisconsin when the Walmart there had a sale on multi-trunked ones. Of the ones I bought, this is the one survivor. Its 5 trunks became 4 the first year when I got too enthusiastic about yanking handfuls of dead leaves away and one trunk came too. Root it from the break? Epic fail. That's when I gave grooming it a long rest. There was now way more brown than green on the plant, and it really bugged me. Vowing gentle care to both myself and the palm, I grabbed a chair, a 5 gallon wastebasket, and later a scissors for neatening, and dove in. There seemed to be more trunks than I remembered, making reaching around them to gently to ease dead leaves away a little more complicated in the angles my fingers needed to bend to reach. By the time I moved to the other side, settling my chair  down again and clearing my view on this side, there were definitely more trunks! Healthy ones! One even had two brand new ones branching low off from it. These may not survive, having been completely shaded for their first two inches of growth, but I hope the sun is low enough now that they will. If so, they make ten (!) trunks on this ponytail!  Neglect becomes her.

I did make sure not just to clean up after but to put the big chickenwire cage back around it to keep the rabbits out. After about two years of ignoring ponytails planted in the ground, they decided those actually produced edible leaves. That's how the others died, in one overnight binge. Only one of those got replaced, so far surviving with a little less summer sun than the big one, and inside another really good wire cage. Scratch that job off the to-do list for the done-did-it list.

Last spring I had removed an orange-blooming aloe from the back yard,  after it got knocked over and separated from its roots, bringing it into the front yard but not actually planted, just stuck in a coffee can of potting soil and watered a little here and there. I figured it wouldn't live over our summer away, but stuck the can next to where rain runs off the roof just in case. Today a live aloe got removed from the can and planted into the front garden. This is as hardy a variety as the large yellow blooming ones which thrive there. Rabbit proof as well. (I licked my fingers after working with it and OMG! I wouldn't eat one either!) I plan in cooler weather to dig more out of the solid row of them in the back and bring clumps to the front where they will alternate with the yellow clumps. You'd have to pay attention to figure it out because the oranges ones finish their blooming several weeks before the yellow ones start. Another one for the to-do list.

The red yuccas have bloomed again over the summer, so there are a large number of old flower/seed stalks to clean out of those two clumps. I can delay till the newer stalks have dried out.

Time for the back yard. First thing I saw across the yard was the orange-blooming Mexican bird of paradise bush, spread taller and in a wider fan than I'd ever seen it, entertaining local bees and hummingbirds. To the east of that, my desert willow was just finishing a major bloom. This has only ever boomed in the spring! All four of our ocotillas, though not blooming, were fully green through their length with their small leaves. My totem pole cactus, the only cactus allowed in the back yard because it has no needles to plague any dogs, and started with short stubs from a neighbor pruning back his clump, has gone from 5 little stubs to being tall as our fence - 6 feet - and both branching and sending shoots from the ground.  Note when I say it's the only cactus allowed, our perennial roof cactus which totally ignores my edict,  growing from a crack between the metal sheet patio roof and a front cover sheet of metal, no gutter at all to hold soil or water for it, is back again and as big as I've seen it. It grows where it's hard to get close enough to pluck or cut out but we'll figure it out again. I wonder if salt would discourage it? Maybe next fall I can remember to bring down a small container of brush killer to try. Note: make a to-do list for supplies for the next year's to-do list. Let's hope I haven't quirkily decided by then to keep the damn thing. Imagine if it gets tall and flops over, swinging down and impaling somebody in the process. Put "don't get that quirky" on the to-do lists as well.

My orange bells bush and the red version next to it were in full color and also feeding the aerial neighborhood pollinators, including hummers. Can't prune those back till blooming is finished. I mean, I could, but....

The palo verde and mesquite trees are not only leafed out (microscopically) but much more branched out, so more there for the to-do list. I do try to keep thorny trees pruned to the point where one can approach without getting stabbed. I'm still studying the mesquite, however, because it does not grow with a straight trunk but a series of very horizontal branches going off in nearly right angles in all directions from other branches in other weird directions. It is nearly twice as wide as tall right now. This will be wonderful once it's gained some height, and it's doing a good job now of shading a nice portion of the yard that the dog walks through to get to her favorite bathroom site so I don't have to worry about her burning the pads on her feet. But what to prune where? It could easily turn into a major puzzle tree, with no kids visiting to appreciate it. I see tall mesquite trees out and around the area, nice and tall and looking actually like they might have  consented to a straight-ish trunk in their long distant past, but how? Give that to-do list some study - a great excuse for delay.

Next to the patio two plants have gone crazy. One we nicknamed a pencil plant since all its branches were like fat green pencils, branching, growing tall until curling and flopping over during dry spells, making room for the next tall growth to fight it's way into the light, then flop in turn. Other gardeners call it a slipper plant, with blossoms that are weird little things which manage to produce a drop of nectar to attract hummers, ants, and whatever. Not flowering now, but the clump has spread twice as far out from the edge of the patio as before. We are stepping on it.

The other plant isn't much bigger, just loaded in blossoms or their wilted remnants when we came home. That's the San Marcos hibiscus, a Mexican desert plant that resembles no hibiscus I recognize, and somehow manages to tolerate the tiny winter heat island near the house as good enough. Those flowers are yellow with red or nearly red centers, wilted the next day, later developing into an interesting hard seed pod.

The large pine tree had a good summer, with very few new dead branches, though its usual annual supply of dead needles coats much of the back yard. The dog can't decide if she likes or hates those. Much depends on how wet they are, and since it had rained just before we arrived, and again  a couple days after, it took her a bit to decide again that the back yard was her space. Two years ago I'd hired a crew to blow them out of the back yard, but somebody brought a rake instead. I had to spend a couple weeks raking the rocks back into their border areas in the yard, and noticed just how many of the yard rocks had gotten raked up and tossed out with the needles. Those things are expensive to replace, and as I specifically asked for blowing, not raking, that crew hasn't been invited back. Last summer a friend of Rich "helped" clean up the back yard... with a rake, of course. I hauled one of those yard waste bags of needles to the front for the garbage, and boy, was it ever heavy! Of course more rocks were back out of their designated curved beds and mixed in the rest of the yard. I debate with myself if it is worth putting raking on the to-do list or I should just let the rocks mix chaotic colors.

There is a bush along the back fence which wasn't the one I thought I'd bought, but decided to keep anyway. The plan is to prune it into a more rounded short tree shape. Late spring I'd started pruning  branches way back so they'd branch  out, fill in, and start to behave, but upon our return, they were back to stabbing way out in all odd directions. Much more pruning will be going on the to-do list there. Plus, part of that wild growth is due to the back neighbor getting his irrigation line for his closest orange tree punctured when some hired crew came in and "weeded" the area on his side of the fence.  Our bush I'm trying to shape, as well as a thick coating of weeds which spread from their yard very thickly over a segment of ours, are thriving with the new water supply. Even the pine tree is getting a good daily drink now as the water spray covers a wide swath of the ground all the way to its trunk. They should be back next month and when I see them out and about I'll be sure they know how much water they are wasting. Last year something similar happened to a lemon tree in that yard, resulting in a dead tree from overwatering, along with a venerable old cactus nearby. I wish I had their phone number. These are the same neighbors who shared totem pole cactus pieces with us back when. Weeding that large and growing patch on our side of the fence is on the to-do list, but it'll wait till the water leak is stopped. I'll let the pine have a lovely early fall too. Selfish? Maybe, but what else can I do?

Sure, the list is long. But cooler weather is on its way, I'll be feeling better even than I already am, and by then most of the crap with the house will be fixed as well. 

Sure it will.

A Choice For Hospice

I'm losing my longest term and best friend who isn't Steve. Her decision has been made to enter hospice care, discontinuing all her meds including ones she could be starting now for the latest medical problem. I understand her decision, not just because her much beloved husband has already become a small box of ashes, and not even because these last years of covid have isolated her even more from her large network of friends and have limited visits with family. I understand deciding not to fight any longer, and allow the inevitable in as comfortable a situation as is possible. The following is just part of how I'll always remember her.

We met way back in early 1983, soon after I met Steve, and under the same circumstances of a support group for people dealing with divorce, separation, or widowhood, called We Care. She was a group facilitator, something both Steve and I became subsequently, but I had to branch out to different locations before I landed in the one where she facilitated. We liked each other well enough, but it was probably another year before we really bonded.

That was at one of the workshops the organization held. They'd take a weekend in a different location, and there'd be maybe two a year. I was assigned to the small group she facilitated, continuity through the workshop being important for trust to develop and groups to really work. I had an issue, but it involved a whole lot of mixed negative feelings, and I'd never found a time or place to disclose what it was. In fact it wasn't till years later in actual therapy that happened. But Joan disclosed a secret of her own near the end of the group, and the fact of her doing that let me open myself up to start exploring what I needed to deal with. No, you're not getting even a hint here. I do still keep many people's secrets including some of mine.

From that point on, a friendship formed. I let her know how important what she'd said was for me, and apparently she found something to appreciate in me as well. We both served terms on the management board for the support groups, coincidentally both at different times as recording secretary. We shared a love of gardening, and she shared some of her giant raspberry plants as a starter for me to make a huge patch in my new home. 

We did share one thing that threatened to destroy that friendship however. I dated Bob, another fellow board member, before she did, though she'd been interested in him for a while, something I wasn't then aware of. Eventually his interest gravitated to her, though our breakup took a few months. I'd known it was coming, but wasn't about to shove him out the door if he wasn't about to mean his "good-bye." Once our split was finally final, by his starting to date her, Bob and I were over. Period. Joan and I had a few conversations before she actually believed I wasn't needing to end our friendship over him. Once she moved from Minneapolis to Arizona to join him after a work relocation of his, deciding the distance was too great for their relationship, I happily drove the moving truck down for her, while another friend of hers shared the duties of driving her car for the trip. I'd visit them both when I came down to visit and help my snowbirding parents each year. Bob, of course, later became her husband. Their Vegas wedding was a lot of fun, and yes, I was invited. Bob and I had long since become comfortable friends.

In so many ways I've already lost her. We used to talk on the phone in calls that inevitably lasted an hour or more, despite one or the other of us saying over and over that we had to go. There was always more to say. After moving south myself with Steve, just two towns away, I got used to seeing and talking with her in person twice a month, sitting along a street corner with a group she organized, holding signs to protest for peace, most of us in chairs because of our ages and various infirmities. We'd protest for an hour and a half, then nearly all of the group would clean up and reconvene at a local restaurant for brunch and more fellowship. 

Last time she became ill enough to need a daily check-in, now alone after Bob died, to be sure she could get to and answer the phone and was otherwise OK, I loved the chance to resume our old phone calls. The years fell away to our old friendship until she got sick enough to be hospitalized and her daughter traveled south to live in for a while and take care of her needs in person. We never quite picked it up again. She was needing naps every day and by this time I hated to wake her, never knowing when I might be an unwelcomed interruption to her much needed sleep. Any talks we did have were much shorter, though we did have a couple of in-person visits. Recently she became so ill she needed her daughter to come down again. In the process of dealing with everything now going on in her life, the hospice decision was made. The news comes with deep sorrow, and understanding.

I'm hoping to get a negative covid test soon so I can visit her in hospice in the time she has left. With a discontinuation of her meds, that could be short. I do so want to give her one or more last hugs, and make sure she still knows she is important to me. Her daughter could use some hugs herself as well. 

Me too.

Now About That Break-In

There will definitely be a call to the County Sheriff's office. And the insurance company.  And... well, let's back up a bit.

If you've been keeping up, you know we came home to a break-in, with the sliced screen, the towel on the floor, and old cameras strewn around.  We've discovered a bit of mischief in addition, but all in all, and with fighting covid, I hadn't found reason to file a complaint. But I went to bed tonight, waiting for sleep, and a sudden thought struck me. What if he stole...?

Of course I couldn't sleep. It was a matter of seconds to get up, and without even needing to turn on a light, reach for the pill bottle.... The bottle was exactly where I left it. Its contents weren't. My mother's ring is gone! 

I suppose most people have mother's rings with tiny stones, nothing elaborate, just representations of the love they have for each child by a tiny birthstone.  I came by mine another way. First, my youngest son was into collecting faceted gems at the time, so the two sapphires were gifts from him, 4x6 mm each, and a dark rich blue. Two September babies. The third originally was an opal for my October baby, one I picked up from a fairly inexpensive piece of estate jewelry, the same size but round, not faceted, and with a lot of red in it compared to today's typical market. It was old and fairly quickly cracked in pieces, so was replaced by a deep colored pink tourmaline, another gift from my youngest. 

It was the 18 carat gold metal, the custom setting, and all the channel set diamonds on either side which really made it valuable. Those came to me for almost free. They were in a lost white gold and diamond watch band that after 6 months nobody had ever claimed. The watch itself didn't run, the band too small for my wrist. So I traded the whole watch, some scattered bits of gold, and the three stones for a custom mother's ring. The jeweler who worked on it only charged me another $150. over the value of the gold I turned in for her work.

It had one hitch. The gold was soft enough that three times I needed to replace prongs or risk losing a stone. The third time, last year, I put off that expense, instead keeping the ring in a pill bottle in a pile of clutter in my room. Who'd look there with a huge jewelry chest standing in the room nearby? The jeweler charged me more than I chose to spend right then for the previous repair, and I figured prices only went up. He also appraised the ring formally back then at $4,500. I have those documents. No idea how the value may have changed in the meantime.

In the last few days we've discovered burn damage to some furniture upholstery. Unfortunately the piece is not ours but a lift chair on loan from a local company which furnishes accessibility equipment to seniors who need it, temporarily or longer. We may in fact be lucky no actual fire was started, just a quarter-size hole melted. But we have to call that company, explain what happened, ask them to remove their chair, and see if they still feel charitable enough to replace it. If not, some shopping has got to happen. They may very well decide to judge that we are not fit or responsible enough to receive any more of their assistance. Rich has tried to repair the frayed & broken cord, only to find out that the control box isn't feeding any power to it anyway.

There is one more odd thing in the house since we returned. A black stain is appearing on our living room rug. Now I get a cola or milk stain, crumbs here and there, dog fur and pine needles. Those come away with elbow grease and the right kind of soap and water. This one has the feel and smell of oil of some kind, nothing any of us would have used or brought into the living room. This gives the stain the reek of more malicious mischief. Like the burn in the chair where nobody smokes in the house.

Can we point fingers? Yes, though without proof, which is frustrating. "Tall Paul" we know for some of the mischief in his quest to burn his parents house down. Rich already filled us in on that one. He recently got the info that the Feds did in fact catch up with him and are holding him. Daddy sure ain't gonna pay no damn bail! The alleged motive behind the fire was so Paul could steal Daddy's guns. He was caught trying to sell one of them.

I wonder if he pawned the ring with nobody home yet to claim it stolen? Or just swapped it for something of more value, perhaps affections of his girlfriend, a known thief both to us and the cops.

Since I'm feeling much better, and tomorrow will be 5 days after using Paxlovid, I'm going to try that last covid home test to see if I get a negative. If so, I can not only get that x-ray taken but we can call in the cops and the insurance people, a plumber to get a stubborn drain snaked, and the chair's owners. And fyi, so far Steve has absolutely no symptoms. Hooray!

We have, however, called and cancelled our attendance next month at that out of state wedding, the one at the country club, the one which we were just informed involves a long walk down a hill to get from parking to the festivities. Sometimes life is just too much "fun" for us geezers! And right now, on top of everything else, I just don't trust leaving the house for a week or so.

Why Not To Use "JustAnswer.com" For Pet Help

Our dog got into one of Steve's gummies. She's little, the THC in it for his pain is strong enough to cause her damage. As we later learned, even the possible sweetener in the gummie could have wreaked havoc on her system. Turns out it wasn't that one.  But... I'm stuck home with covid and I need to make her throw up.

What to do? Go online of course.

First info on how-to is giving her hydrogen peroxide mixed with water. I don't keep that in the house. Nor the next thing suggested. If I didn't have covid I could just go buy some. The local grocery store is open already at 6AM, and I could try to treat her myself. Next and last info talks about activated charcoal, and a vet does that.

I locate her regular vet's info and call. I know they have earlier hours than the store does that they are in, but get a recording that they do not open for almost two hours. Next I search 24 hour vets and find one even closer than the regular one, and call to ask my questions: does she need to come in? I get little help from the call aside from them not recommending hydrogen peroxide for vomiting. They can't even tell me how harmful her dosage is for body size.

I search further, and find a site called Just Answer. They claim all kinds of competence and have a 800 phone number, so I call. How do they work? I'm told they charge a $5 introductory use fee. If I wish I can have a membership for just $30 a month. I think it's worth a trial for $5 for questions on just how dangerous her dose of THC actually is, plus other possibilities to make her vomit. I go through the email, phone, and - thinking to be secure - Paypal authorization.

The result to that is an instant warning flashing on my computer screen that they are some kind of scam - I can't recall the exact wording since it was such a shock and so brief, adding this stress to dealing with this emergency and the sudden "what did I just do?" from seeing the announcement. Moreover, my laptop screen had just frozen. I couldn't get in or out of anything. After about three key presses meant to stop whatever, I just hit the power button for a hard shutdown and shut it off for a bit. Now what? Are they accessing all kinds of financial info? Is there new malware inside?

Top this off with a sudden influx of text alerts on my cell. If they want a text conversation we're all screwed.

I finally decided I need to wake Steve. Besides being covid negative, he hadn't taken pain pills yet for the day, so he should be cognizant enough to talk to the 24 hour vet we're going to. He gets up and dressed. As do I, since it's my card the charges will be on. I'll stay in the car. I write down the necessary info, time of the poisoning, type and dosage of what she scarfed. Upshot is a huge bill, a successful vomiting session, and a dog returning home on a "safe enough" likely high for her day.The gummies by then had been given 2 hours to dissolve. She arrived at the car perky enough at least.

Once I turn my computer on again, not opening any of the previous links which were open, my email has messages from JustAnswer congratulating itself on its help and suggesting I can ask them anything again. Time to check my financials, see what I can find out.

There is no $5. charge. There are two $36. charges! One has been denied, the other paid. First, a call to the credit card company to halt that for being a scam. Then online to PayPal to fight endlessly through their system to finally get to type something about those charges being denied due to misrepresenting their cost and signing me up for a "membership" I didn't ask for, as well as not actually getting any service from them.

The following day there was another contact from JustAnswer claiming they had the info for my question. Problem is, besides being absurdly late, it was an answer to another person's question with a different name attached to it. There was another self-congratulatory email on how helpful they were being as well. Later in the day another "answer" came through my email, along with a request to tell them how wonderful they were.

HEY GUYS, IF I RELIED ON YOUR "HELP" MY DOG WOULD LIKELY BE DEAD!

This morning I checked my financials again. There was a $36. charge on my credit card! Quick check on PayPal and it showed the money came in and went out. It also showed a denied charge. As soon as I get less pissed off, I'll contact my credit card people again and see what I can do to get that pulled back, if anything.

But...

I went back online to JustAnswer, and this time Google brought up a version of their site on how wonderful everybody thought they were. Incredulous, I followed that to see what that was about. Bad math at a minimum, it turns out. They claim over 4 stars from people, and would I like to read reviews? Yes. First was somebody calling them a scam, and from reading that I decided I'm lucky if I get off with just $36. There was a lineup of stars like on a Yelp graph, and every one had one star plus a tiny sliver of another. That's 1 plus a tiny fraction on each of 5 questions. Either they are adding all their stars together, which should have them bragging about a high 5 star rating, or they should have averaged their stars to be 1.1 star rating. Considering the one star is what you have to click on in order to even make a rating register, it's effectively a ZERO. Everybody hates you. Other comments include my issues: misrepresentation, overcharging, no actual service.

There was info about canceling the membership. I decided to call that number. I was offered several voicemail options, including canceling. Press that number. Got a series of choices about why I was cancelling. None of them covered it all, so I pressed some kind of a "more info" button. Back to the first recording. They can't even do this well?  This time I decided it didn't matter, pushed a different button. I got a recorded voice giving me a confirmation number for my cancellation which I wrote down, and information that they were emailing me a confirmation. There were two emails, actually, which have been archived. I fully expect another later in the day, self congratulations type, and asking how wonderful they were.

Screw 'em!

Now That Paxlovid Is Done

Well, so far it helped the symptoms ease off. Or at least what it was supposed to do. I have no basis of comparison, thank goodness!!  But I had a couple days needing no naps, a lower fever, less runny nose, and a return of my nose in its proper function. I even think I can taste a few things a little bit. I don't count myself well though.

There is a bit more coughing, kinda like a "regular' cold, where the lungs are the last to get involved. The throat periodically is sore and the voice gravelly. I am also back to needing a daytime nap. I thought to get an actual temperature before the Doc's call, dug out the thermometer, stuck it under my tongue... 106! WTF? It must be broken, sitting in the bathroom in the summer heat after the one window was opened. To be sure, I tried to shake it down. No joy. Shake harder. Still no joy. OK, getting serious, I drew a glass of water from the freezer door, dunked the thermometer in it for a minute, shook... still 106. Good thing it's broken, or I'd expect to be dead.

My doc, via a phone consult, wants a chest x-ray from me. He also supposes I can be out and about so long as there is a good mask involved. So while cancelling my scheduled club business for the day due to both caution and brain fog, I drove Rich a few miles and back, both of us masked. In return, he ran into a store for me for a single purchase. I even tried to follow doc's orders, but they wouldn't give me an x-ray without proof of a negative covid test. (How do sick people get imaging done?) So, back home, go through the process, and wait for it... wait... wait... Dang! Positive again. The second line was fainter than the first test, but still, a definite positive. So I'll check my status again Monday, see if I can get the x-ray then, and if not, call the doc and tell him I'm trying. Meanwhile the home covid tests are running out. I may show up in Doc's parking lot so they can run out and test me in my car. If they still do that of course. And this is before Steve may test positive and need testing either way.

Since I still have it, and they don't do a second 5-day dosing of Paxlovid, I recalled something I heard months ago about when you get covid. The worst damage is supposed to be from the cytokine storm when the body over-reacts. Slowing down or stopping that process takes an easy, cheap, combination of two common OTC meds. Both are generic now. One is Pepsid AC, the other Zyrtec. There are two different ways the body over-reacts and each fights one of them. I already take generic Zyrtec, aka cetirizine, twice daily for allergies. The Pepsid  is now in the arsenal, to take each morning. Otherwise I take my usual meds, except my statin. It can't be taken with the Paxlovid, and Doc wants me to wait an extra day before resuming it. In addition I add an arsenal of vitamins and minerals which Doc heartily approves of, especially now. Lastly, I alternate between Tylenol and ibuprofin to keep the low fever down. I figure I feel as well as I can, considering. And amazingly Steve still shows absolutely no symptoms. 

Close to bedtime, and time to take out the dog. Have to find a minute between rain showers though. We seem to have a band that while narrow is moving along its length so they keep coming. And coming. Hooray! Except for getting the dog out.