waiting, talking about yesterday
So I'm home waiting for FedEx Freight to show, and I've nothing to do. Perfect time for an entry!
I went to see the doctor yesterday afternoon for a check-up--well, not a doctor, but a nurse practitioner. Technically, I think Blue Cross Blue Shield has an MD listed as my primary care physician, but I've never seen an actual doctor at Brighton Marine. Details, details...
My last check-up was 2009 May or June, so it seemed like a good idea to go back. Apparently I've lost four pounds since my last visit (whoop-de-doo), and both the nurse and the assistant were asking me if I was trying to lose weight.
...
It's four pounds. I fluctuate at least that much during my cycle, and sometimes more. So I wasn't that excited about it. And I don't consider it much for them to be concerned about, but I decided to inform them about my pescatarian diet anyway. The nurse thought a blood test for iron might be in order. Fine. And I figured since they were going to be sticking me anyway I should also request a thyroid check. Family history and all that.
Down to the lab and two vials of blood later, I was out the door and back to work. And when I returned to my desk I was pleased to remember that I still had two clementine oranges in my lunch bag. I noshed and worked for another hour, and then I went home...
Where my new air conditioner was waiting for me!
OK, exciting, but ... and my mother is going to be annoyed if/when she reads this ... Well, I'm just glad that my upper body strength is what it is. I managed to tug it up the first flight of stairs without a lot of problems. It was heavy, but I took it one step at a time, and that was fine. But that relative ease of success made me too cocky for my own good. Right! I'm an Amazon! I can get this up the second flight RIGHT NOW! Stupid, really, not taking a breather. Also stupid not taking into account how much narrower the second flight of stairs is than the first. Hm. So I dragged the box through the kitchen to the second stairwell ...
There's a certain point of commitment when you're dragging something eighty pounds up the stairs. You've taken it half-way, and you couldn't possibly try to ease it back down those stairs. Unfortunately, it was at the bend halfway up my second flight that I realised that this box was a bit wide for my stairwell. The cardboard was creaking ominously as it wedged between one wall and the hand rail. The white plastic shipping bands I was dragging it by were cutting into my hands. I shifted the bands to my forearms, hoping I could forcibly dislodge the box. This only resulted in a lack of upward mobility, more obstinate box-creaking, and the bands digging in my arms--one of which was already aggravated from the blood work at the hospital. Did I mention that, by this point, sweat was pouring off of me (no air conditioner, remember? so it was about eighty-eight degrees in that stairwell)?
So I did what I really didn't want to do. I eased the box back down to the start of the curve on the stairs, propped it between the corner and the steps--and squeezed myself around behind it. Then I left it there for a few minutes and just stood under the kitchen fan to take that breather, take stock of myself, and think about how to proceed. I think my second wind came about when I decided I would need to turn the box sideways in order to make it that last stretch. Also, pushing rather than pulling, since my arms hands were threatening blisters and my arms were a bit sliced up. Turning it was much easier to think about than actually do in that small space. But I did, and then it was only a matter of pulling myself along the handrail and levering the box upward on the back of my right quad.
Once I had that box on the landing, though, I walked away to stood in front of the fan again...
Sliding, tinkering, rigging ... I turned on the unit and went to take a shower, and when I got back into the room it was actually comfortable! It's no more noisy than the fan I'd had running in the window, and good deal more effective. It was a relief being able to sleep in my bedroom once again. The airbed was fine, but I missed my futon.
My arms are still sore today, but I'm fairly certain I've done worse things to myself in the past.
Whenever my bed frame is delivered today I won't be attempting to drag the whole box up my stairs (as it is apparently about one hundred pounds in the box). I'm going to open it on the sidewalk and bring the individual pieces up. I think it will be fine. It should be. Maybe. I hope.
I went to see the doctor yesterday afternoon for a check-up--well, not a doctor, but a nurse practitioner. Technically, I think Blue Cross Blue Shield has an MD listed as my primary care physician, but I've never seen an actual doctor at Brighton Marine. Details, details...
My last check-up was 2009 May or June, so it seemed like a good idea to go back. Apparently I've lost four pounds since my last visit (whoop-de-doo), and both the nurse and the assistant were asking me if I was trying to lose weight.
...
It's four pounds. I fluctuate at least that much during my cycle, and sometimes more. So I wasn't that excited about it. And I don't consider it much for them to be concerned about, but I decided to inform them about my pescatarian diet anyway. The nurse thought a blood test for iron might be in order. Fine. And I figured since they were going to be sticking me anyway I should also request a thyroid check. Family history and all that.
Down to the lab and two vials of blood later, I was out the door and back to work. And when I returned to my desk I was pleased to remember that I still had two clementine oranges in my lunch bag. I noshed and worked for another hour, and then I went home...
Where my new air conditioner was waiting for me!
OK, exciting, but ... and my mother is going to be annoyed if/when she reads this ... Well, I'm just glad that my upper body strength is what it is. I managed to tug it up the first flight of stairs without a lot of problems. It was heavy, but I took it one step at a time, and that was fine. But that relative ease of success made me too cocky for my own good. Right! I'm an Amazon! I can get this up the second flight RIGHT NOW! Stupid, really, not taking a breather. Also stupid not taking into account how much narrower the second flight of stairs is than the first. Hm. So I dragged the box through the kitchen to the second stairwell ...
There's a certain point of commitment when you're dragging something eighty pounds up the stairs. You've taken it half-way, and you couldn't possibly try to ease it back down those stairs. Unfortunately, it was at the bend halfway up my second flight that I realised that this box was a bit wide for my stairwell. The cardboard was creaking ominously as it wedged between one wall and the hand rail. The white plastic shipping bands I was dragging it by were cutting into my hands. I shifted the bands to my forearms, hoping I could forcibly dislodge the box. This only resulted in a lack of upward mobility, more obstinate box-creaking, and the bands digging in my arms--one of which was already aggravated from the blood work at the hospital. Did I mention that, by this point, sweat was pouring off of me (no air conditioner, remember? so it was about eighty-eight degrees in that stairwell)?
So I did what I really didn't want to do. I eased the box back down to the start of the curve on the stairs, propped it between the corner and the steps--and squeezed myself around behind it. Then I left it there for a few minutes and just stood under the kitchen fan to take that breather, take stock of myself, and think about how to proceed. I think my second wind came about when I decided I would need to turn the box sideways in order to make it that last stretch. Also, pushing rather than pulling, since my arms hands were threatening blisters and my arms were a bit sliced up. Turning it was much easier to think about than actually do in that small space. But I did, and then it was only a matter of pulling myself along the handrail and levering the box upward on the back of my right quad.
Once I had that box on the landing, though, I walked away to stood in front of the fan again...
Sliding, tinkering, rigging ... I turned on the unit and went to take a shower, and when I got back into the room it was actually comfortable! It's no more noisy than the fan I'd had running in the window, and good deal more effective. It was a relief being able to sleep in my bedroom once again. The airbed was fine, but I missed my futon.
My arms are still sore today, but I'm fairly certain I've done worse things to myself in the past.
Whenever my bed frame is delivered today I won't be attempting to drag the whole box up my stairs (as it is apparently about one hundred pounds in the box). I'm going to open it on the sidewalk and bring the individual pieces up. I think it will be fine. It should be. Maybe. I hope.