So there’s a bathroom initiative going around Washington State this election season, modeled on the bill from North Carolina. There’s a lot of other initiatives, too, I must have signed ten of them today. This initiative is from a group calling themselves Just Want Privacy.

My question to this group is if we would put through this initiative that’s already questionable in its constitutionality, how would we enforce it? Are we going to station monitors in each public restroom to check for the absence or presence of a penis before we can pee? What about the people who have had sex reassignment surgery? Will they needed special DNA cards so we can be sure they use the restroom of the gender assigned to them at birth? And what about those born with ambiguous genitalia? Will we needed to do extensive testing on all babies to be sure they are assigned the “correct” gender?  What about folks with Klinefelter’s Syndrome, who are XXY? Where do they pee?

For a bunch of folks that Just Want Privacy, they sure seem to be willing to invade everyone else’s in order to enforce their outdated, prudish, Victorian notions of propriety. As the transgender folks say, they just want to pee in peace. So do I.

This one is brought to you by Starbucks and their increasingly inconsistent phone app. Early in the season, I went to put more money on my card via the app on my phone. Used my usual card. Declined! This was ridiculous. I had the money! Try another card. Declined! I had enough money in that account, too. Strangely, the transaction displayed in both accounts as pending. I went on my way, and thought nothing more of it, but didn’t reload my card at the shop because I feared that one or more of the transactions would go through, and then I would be having lunch at Starbucks all month.

So it comes to the end of the month, and money is short. I go to account #1, expecting to have about $1.75 in the account. However, there is much more money in there. Took me a while to figure it out. The bank deducted the amount from my account while it was “pending”. Nothing happened, so they refunded it to me. Same thing happened with the second card. Wow, I could do laundry and everything! I could actually go to Starbucks! This is my miracle, and I would like to thank Starbucks for screwing it up. It was nice to have money at the end of the month.

Another miracle: My wheelchair has been falling apart. I spent $2200 in July to put two new motors on it. Then the footrest fell off. And they kept telling me I needed new tires. Cost: another $2200. Not happening. I could actually buy a new chair for that much money. So I’ve been limping along with this chair, and then one of the new motors went out. Fortunately, that was under warranty.

I had been evaluated in September to see if I qualified for a Medicare chair. (For information on the vagaries of qualifying for a chair from Medicare, read this)  Don’t know how that turned out yet, we are dealing with the government here. However, the PT put in a request for the company I work with to see about a new chair. Eventually, that request landed on the desk of someone in charge of that sort of thing. I got a call to say that they were sending me a waiver to sign in case insurance didn’t pay. And a quote for an enormous amount of money. I had an apopleptic fit. No, I wasn’t going to sign this! But then it was explained to me that I could return the chair if insurance didn’t pay. And I have that in writing. It seems my insurance doesn’t pre- qualify anyone, they make a determination after you have been provided the service. Then suddenly on Monday I get a call that my chair is in! I go out and get it. And it’s beautiful! I’m in love! So I hope the insurance pays. (For as much as I pay them, they ought to.) So this chair may only be temporary. If I’m turned down, and I don’t have enough to pay for the chair, they said I could make payments for a year, which would take half my monthly income. Also not happening. If I don’t qualify, the chair will go back, and I will be shopping the internet for a probably used chair of the same model, for about a quarter of what they want for this one.

One of the problems with the Medicare system is they pay list price for durable medical equipment, just like they do for drugs. This is crazy. I can go on the internet and buy a new chair, same model, for $2000 less than the quote. If they at least asked for the same discount that I’m sure private insurance would ask for, they could buy more chairs for people for the same money. And then they whine about what a big portion of the federal budget Medicare is! (Hint: it’s not nearly as big as our bloated defense budget, and yes, I know some of you would be out of work without that bloated defense budget.) So that’s a picture of my new baby up there. At least temporarily.

I went by Nordstrom tonight on the way home, and they were setting up Santa’s house. It’s not even a week past Halloween. Too much, too soon. Especially since I’ll be missing my own, personal Santa this year.

Playing ketchup. Another momento i grabbed Saturday. This was The Boyo’s ID tag when he stayed at Union Gospel Mission after his surgery. I have mixed feelings about the place. I’m glad it’s available, but wish we had better places to care for our sick homeless men. Gory people being congregated in one large room is inhumane, IMHO. Also unsanitary, and a lot of other ins and uns.

Playing ketchup. Another momento i grabbed Saturday. This was The Boyo’s ID tag when he stayed at Union Gospel Mission after his surgery. I have mixed feelings about the place. I’m glad it’s available, but wish we had better places to care for our sick homeless men. Gory people being congregated in one large room is inhumane, IMHO. Also unsanitary, and a lot of other ins and uns.

So I finally figured out how to share photos on my phone with WordPress. So here is one of the pictures I wanted to share with you. May I present pharaoh bear.  He is tiny, but mighty. And I now have three posts in three days. Go me.

So Lacey and I went to Bellingham on the train today. It’s a very long day, leaving at 7 am, and getting home after 11 pm. I love Amtrak on this route, there is some very pretty scenery. Lacey and I took this trip so frequently this summer while The Boyo was in hospice care near his family that the conductors know our names, and that Lacey jumps on the train. They tell me what a good dog she is, so quiet. She has them fooled, they aren’t with me when she barks at the newspaper delivery person at 4 am. I’m sure my neighbors love me, with her barking and me yelling at her to shut up. Territorial she is. A big contrast to Friday, whose times barking could be numbered on one hand.

The purpose of today’s visit was to clean out The Boyo’s storage locker. Detritus and treasure. Let’s just say he was a collector, although some of the collecting passed the line into hoardings. When he moved from the Aloha Inn to hospice, they left behind 4 banana boxes of canned and boxed food. The Aloha leaves food out for the residents 24 hours a day. We found another boxful in the locker that they’d missed on the first sweep. His nephews will eat at his expense for a while.

The weather was abominable as it can be in November in western Washington, with torrential rain and high winds. Of course, his  storage unit faced outside. The boys got soaked. They put me facing out in his mom’s wheelchair accessible van, to say yes or may to each treasure unearthed. I didn’t get wet, but my feet are still cold. I’m glad to be home and dry.

Among the treasures found was a tiny teddy bear done up like a Pharaoh, souvenir of the King Tut exhibit we had visited earlier this year. I’m sure it was meant as a birthday present for me, he knew I collected teddy bears. So I got it a few days early.

I was going to put some pictures on here, but blogging on my tablet is cramping my style, and so is this app. I can only take pitches out of the gallery, or take a new picture. I took the pictures on my phone, which I can’t figure of how to upload to this gallery, maybe because I’m tired. The camera on this thing is meant for Skype and such as that. Enough for now, it’s time for bed.

Unless you live under a tree stump, you might know November is National Novel Writing Month, or NaNoWriMo, but  you may not know November is National Blog Post month. The idea is to do 30 posts in 30 days. No themes, no word counts, just post something. I’ve  decided to take up the challenge, this is my first post. As Johnny Virgil says at15 Minute Lunch, don’t expect too much.

It started on Monday, when my desktop quit working and  started beeping. Evidently, computers have a “beep code”, how many beeps tells you what’s wrong. Mostly they all mean “you’re screwed, it’s something expensive.”

Wednesday my  backpack was stolen with my tablet in it. Also my knitting, some expensive yarn, my Amtrak ticket that I used to visit The Boyo in Bellingham, and some other things of sentimental value.

Friday my cellphone started acting up, like vibrating like a vibrator. While I was trying to talk on it. No, I don’t have one of those apps on it.

Early Saturday morning The Boyo died. I got to Bellingham in time to have a visitation with his body, for which I am grateful. I had my first “ugly cry” there. He donated his body to science, and left soon after that for someplace in Arizona. His ashes are back, and his memorial is scheduled for October 5th. Don’t ask me, I didn’t make the arrangements.

My computer still doesn’t work, it probably needs a motherboard. I don’t have the energy or money to fix it right now. My phone and tablet have been replaced with things The Boyo had. He bought a  tablet a couple weeks before he died. Later on he wondered why he had bought it. I guess we know now, Sweetie. I also got his fancy second hand wheelchair that reclines. I’d rather have him.

The “ugly crying” has tapered off, but I still get caught unawares by it occasionally. I miss him a lot, or at least who he was before the cancer. I’m glad he is no longer in pain. I’ve had sciatica, the flu, and bronchitis. This is par for a survivor. This too shall pass. And so it goes.

Well, I’m depressed. Horribly, awfully, terribly depressed. Can’t get out of bed depressed. It’s a good thing I have a dog, or I wouldn’t have gotten dressed for a month or two. Yes, I’ve been to the doctor, she tweaked my thyroid meds and put me on high doses of some vitamins I tested low on. Yes, I’ve seen a psychiatrist. She tweaked one of my psych meds. Yes, I still see my therapist every week. When I can get out of bed, and don’t make up a migraine to keep from going,

So, what have I got to be depressed about? Well, there’s the Boyo. He still has cancer, and it is kicking his ass. He started on a new drug for chemo, and it damned near killed him. He came off of it, and went on to hospice. However, it  did lower his tumor markers and relieve some of his pain, so he’s back on it, on a lower dose. He’s foggy brained enough as it is what with his traumatic brain injury, but now he’s also got a brain tumor and “chemo fog.” He asks me how to do things on his phone, and tells me he can’t make it work. “How do I get on Facebook?”  “It’s the blue F on your start page. You just push it,”  “But it doesn’t work!!!”  He probably hasn’t been there for weeks, and it signed him out. So some day I  will have to grab his phone, and sign him back in because I’m the only one who remembers his password. One I made up for him so it would be easy for him to remember. The same password that gets into all his sites. I’m frustrated. And sad, because he is deteriorating so fast. And he will move to Bellingham soon, to be closer to his family. Which will be good for him, not so much for me. Maybe I should rethink that email from the Senior People Meeters. (When the heck did I become a senior?) I have permission to get on with my life.

To make matters worse, I have some new, unwanted companions in my life. Bed bugs. I hates them. These are courtesy of The Boyo, also. His gift-giving skills are truly out the window, He bought a pillow second hand and brought it to my apartment, and put it in my recliner, So, some time later I’m sitting there and this bug runs across me. I am, at that point, not familiar with bed bugs. These days I am quite intimate with them. NOT what I would have picked for my next intimate encounter. I have two questions: a) who in hell buys second hand bedding in this day and age? b) who in hell sells second-hand bedding without at least washing and drying it, which would have killed the little darlings? Obviously, the answer to question a) is The Boyo. He buys everything second-hand. It’s not necessarily a matter of poverty. He once told me his dream car was 1987 BMW.

Here’s why bedbugs are a nightmare. They are not a public health menace, they are mostly an annoyance, The worst thing that could happen is that you could get a secondary infection from scratching a bite. Thirty per cent of people, including mois, don’t even get itchy from them. So what’s the big deal? They mess with your mental health, that’s what. I asked my best friend to help  me clean my apartment so I could call the maintenance department without getting evicted. Did I mention I’m “I can’t get out of bed” depressed? And having a lot more pain lately, too. Unfortunately, she had just finished with her own infestation, and ran out of here like she was on fire.That was mumbledy-mumble weeks ago, and other than doing a few dishes (when I didn’t have any clean silverware) and sort of keeping up with the laundry, nothing much has changed. I am afraid to try to get somebody else to help me. The amount of work you have to do to get ready for the pest control guy is unreal. You have to wash and/or dry every washable thing in the house. You have to take everything out of, and off of every thing and isolate them in bags and/or bins, tightly sealed, with “no pest” strips  inside.  You have to move every stick of furniture away from the walls so the pest control operator can get to the baseboards and sockets. I’m overwhelmed just thinking about it. Another friend was supposed to help me put the encasements on my brand new mattress and box springs. Didn’t happen. At the time I asked the bed bugs were rarely seen in the bedroom, it would have kept my mattress from getting infested. Now, if I ever get it on, it will  kill any that are left over. I’m paranoid to go anywhere lest I carry some little friends with me, and infest someplace else, It’s not the big, obvious  ones I worry about, it’s the little, tiny, nearly invisible babies that scare me. Yeah, they mess with your mind.In New York  City they have companies that come in and do all of this for you, but not around here. If you need a business opportunity, I suggest starting a company to do this. I know I would pay through the nose for the service.

Now that I feel a teensy bit better, I may actually get started, at least on the laundry part of the ordeal . And give up and just let the maintenance department come while my house is messy. If you guys could send me some funny e-cards or something, (snail mail cards, Starbucks cards, chili chocolate) I would be very grateful. I’m feeling pretty alone right now with just my dog, and my little friends. 

(P.S. I wanted to put a picture in, but I can’t figure out how to do it these days. )