Because It Wouldn’t All Fit On A Postcard . . .

I can’t hardly believe it’s been so long since I last posted.  What is wrong with me?!  It’s certainly not a lack of sugar.  Christmas isn’t even here yet, and I can hear myself getting fatter.  I am sorry I have been absent, almost despondent from blogging.  I always have something to say, especially lately, where none of it seemed to have any type of uplifting tone to it.  I think that was part of my issue, that I felt all I was doing was unloading and my funny, happy side wasn’t showing through.  But, I’m happy to say I am done with the testing and prodding, for now at least.  But to be honest, I am no further forward than I was before I started at the end of October.

Everything came back normal, even the DHEA (hormone) level where the high normal level is 228, where in November, I was a shocking 1310.  I’m now within normal levels.  I also got my results back today from a sleep test I performed on the comfort of my new lovely mattress.  Sleep test, pah!  That’s a joke!  I have to have quiet, dark, and covers up to my chin to sleep.  And, apparently, nothing distracting me. Needless to say, I finally fell asleep from sheer exhaustion with the bloody Oxometer clamped to my left index finger.  After I hid the flashy lights screen under my pillow, all I could do was concentrate on the fact that it was boring a hole into my nail bed.  I woke constantly, I don’t even recall sleeping much — if at all — all that well.  I even dreamed I ripped the bloody thing off my finger and fell back asleep.  I would rather have a newborn wake me up every two hours than to have to do that again. The clamp was so tight that when I removed it the next morning (just before six, I might add), it had left a bright white mark on my nail bed and the skin was raw around it.  I could have told them I didn’t have sleep apnea, all I needed was a new mattress.  Oh, how I love the new memory foam with gel layer mattress.  I am sleeping much better and no longer leaning into the middle of the bed, consequently waking with aching shoulders and a grumpy disposition.

I still haven’t made it to the Psychologist’s office, one of these weeks I might talk myself into it.  Maybe if she lets me take copious notes and if I can snap a pic with her — you know, for blogging’s sake — I might just do it.  You can’t pass up the opportunity of a lifetime of going to a psychologist and not take notes, share insights and garner general blog fodder . . .

A lot has been going on with us, generally just day-to-day things, but enough to keep us busy, especially this time of year.  The biggest thorn, skelf (sliver) or whathaveyou in my side is the bunk beds.  I wish I had known how pathetically bad Oa.k Ex.press was.  Wow, they are pretty awful on the Customer Suckage scale.  They promised a replacement section of the broken headboard for the top half of the bunk beds — on expedited delivery no less! And it took a day longer than the original items to arrive.  Luckily they are delivering the replacement parts for free, but we don’t have a time frame, which is both a good and bad thing.  We don’t have the written warranty which should have come with it, or the treatment for the wood upkeep AND! the casters for the bottom bunk bed (movable) were non-existent.

Since we were headed to Missoula today anyway, we took a jaunt into their showroom again, hoping to just pick it up and get it all over with.  We pulled up to the loading dock and Bryan trudged through the foot-deep snow to their bay door.  No bell and no signs of life.  When I walked in the front door and said we were there to pick up replacement parts and mentioned we’d stopped at the loading dock, he said, “Oh, he’s at lunch.”  This is also the same no-show warehouse guy that refused to stay past 7 o’clock, even though my husband didn’t get off work until 6 and had to drive with a bad storm blowing in and barely made it there just before quarter past seven.  He left no notes, nothing saying anything was damaged and the floor guys gave Bryan all the boxed pieces and sent him on his way.

So.  Anyway, today, I said:
“I’m just disappointed with it all.  We were promised expedited delivery and it arrived a day later than the first shipment . . .”  “Oh, sorry about that” he said, not really looking at me.

At this point, Bryan joined me.

“This is our first truck delivery since the 13th” he continued.
“No it’s not!” Bryan said defiantly, “I talked with one of the guys here the other day and they told me the parts weren’t on a shipment that day, but they’d be on the next one.  It’s not the only delivery you’ve had.”
“Well, we get trucks here all the time . . .” he replied, backtracking and inadvertently making himself look really bad.

To cut a long story short, he wouldn’t give us the parts because we didn’t bring the other faulty parts with us.  He wanted a clean swap-out.  He still wouldn’t give them to us, even though the delivery truck could have came and got them from us tomorrow.  I am thisclose to just packing it all in and getting our money back.  I love the bunk beds, but eight hundred dollars can be spent elsewhere where they actually take care of their customers.  We’ve pretty much concluded that if anything is missing or damaged from this shipment, we will send it all back.  It’s not worth the grief and hassle.  I know my little Ian will be heart broken, but I’d rather be fully satisfied than have that ‘uck’ feeling inside.  The first two guys we dealt with were really nice.  This one was not.  Before we had even stepped back out into the bitter, snowy cold this morning, Bryan had formulated a plan to write a lengthy letter to their corporate office and complain about their quality systems and quality control.  You’d never guess he was a scientist for one second!

And life goes on.  Cameron continues to be Cameron: Cute one minute and up to something the next.  His vocabulary is expanding and he can now tell me when Ian is up to something, it’s proving quite handy.  It’s hilarious to watch Ian’s face when Cameron runs and tells me something.

“Iannotnice!”
“Ian hit!”

They love each other though, and it’s beautiful to watch Cameron want to be just like his brother.  He adores him so much.

As for me, you know, all-in-all, I’m doing great.  I’m happy and things are going really well for me.  I still can’t explain the hair loss and the lack of occasional appetite, but I think stress plays a major roll in that.

And, in a non-existent segue kinda way, even after all these years, it still surprises me when people ask me where I’m from.  A friend’s aunt asked me today and then responded, “I could sit and listen to you talk for days . . .”  I remarked, “that’s what he used to say, now he just tells me to shut up!”

These next few days, I’ll definitely be putting a major emphasis on the home.  A good friend of mine from when I was a teenager (i.e. bloody donkeys ago) had a ritual of deep cleaning her entire home for New Year’s.  Since I’ve gotten older, I think that’s a pretty decent thing to do, so I am reorganising and purging like a mad woman.  It’s such a great feeling.  I for one — and I think I can speak for many of us — will not be sad to see the back of 2008.  Wow, what an incredible amount of menoosha happened this year.

But before I properly herald in the New Year, we still need to get those bunk beds sorted.  Watch this space.

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