April 24th, 2006

dead wombat

I don't like the drugs, and they don't like me either

One of the many things I accomplished over the weekend was acquiring my second medical allergy ever. Yes, at long last, after taking amoxicillin on a quarterly basis since 2002, the body has finally had enough. Fortunately, it's a mild allergy (hives as opposed to anaphylactic shock, which would have just ruined the whole weekend) and easily contained with Claritin. Unfortunately the Claritin is making me drowsy like it's not supposed to do, which is going to make finishing the month-end balancing this afternoon interesting. Then again, the horrible itching all over my body is a thing of the past and the welts on my arms and legs and torso are diminishing to an unsightly rash. So on balance I'm better off than I was.
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Yesterday was the ATC Annual Meeting, which we normally schedule for the end of Detour and then punt to the following month; this year the Board was sensible and punted the meeting before the program books were printed up, so we are making progress in some areas, I guess.
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dead wombat

and from here it just goes splat

I managed to finish the balancing about fifteen minutes before my boss left for the day, cranked out the new product cross-reference list, and managed to field a bunch of calls for research without sounding like the drug-addled zombie I was. Then I went downstairs, got the truck out of hock and went home, stopping briefly at the Walgreens to get Benadryl, a fresh supply of Cozaar, and some diet Coke. I had originally thought about doing pizza for dinner, or maybe plowing through the bag of shrimp I defrosted over the weekend, but it all seems like an insane amount of effort right now. I think I'll just have a sandwich and nap until phoenixalpha returns from getting things settled with her grandmother (the dead one) since she's of the opinion that Melva is not at all pleased about the manner of her interment and is liable to cause (more) trouble unless Lois apologizes to her mother and tries to set things right. Which will probably involve getting a Lutheran minister to say a real funeral service, but I'm not sweating the details since it's not my problem.

So I think I'll fix me a turkey sandwich and await P's return so I can let her in and go to bed for real. In the meantime, I'm going to put this Sam Kinison CD in the stereo and enjoy some rude humor; it was the only thing I saw worth buying at the City Center Sam Goody, which is closing and selling everything at 30% off.