Sometimes things don�t go so well.
9:13 p.m.
He read back some of these responses, most of which were complimentary, but some of which were not. There was one person who had written that he/she couldn’t stand the music and wanted it to end! Anyway, it wasn’t as boring as Buddy Boy had predicted it would be, and we even ended up enjoying ourselves.
Then we grabbed a quick supper with Grandpa Mike at a fast-food sandwich place and went back to the main theatre so he and Hubby could go see the concert they had paid over $100 apiece for. Buddy Boy and I wandered around the free stages, and got to see some excellent acts. I absolutely fell in love with the voice of the lead singer in a Nigerian blues band (they were actually from London, but the singer’s roots are Nigerian) and Buddy Boy was so impressed he wanted to buy the CD (but didn’t, for which he is now kicking himeself).
While we were parked on the grass, listening, I noticed a discarded coffee cup lying on the cement ledge over and around which people were meticulously walking. Everyone saw it, everyone avoided it, not a one picked it up to discard in a bin. Buddy Boy even offered to lay odds that no one would pick it up. I refused. In the end, I collected and discarded it. I just couldn’t stand it anyore.
We also watched half of a set of a jazz/blues singer doing a homage to BiIIie H0Iiday. She was really good. This was followed on a different stage by the end of an Australian reggae set. It wasn’t quite reggae, but it certainly was entertaining. The rain didn’t start again until we were walking back to the fountain to meet Hubby and Grandpa Mike and his girlfriend. A good time to go home.
Today I was enraged to the point of tears. I want to see my family doctor. I need a check up and I want to talk to her specifically about menopausal issues and things that relate to my most intimate parts and behaviours. Sadly, she is not available for the summer since she works out of the university clinic and they’re closed until the end of August. I can’t even find out if she’s practising at all because there’s no one there to take my calls, and she’s not with the public health care system, so they can’t tell me.
So I went to the clinic in town because I was once a patient of a doctor who worked there but went on medical leave and I was told that I would continue to be a patient of the clinic. But today the receptionist told me that I could not see a doctor there because my previous doctor is no longer on their roster and only patients of their doctors can be treated there. I was incensed! I asked, “Qu’est-ce que je dois faire pour voir un médcin?” and I was informed that I had to go to emergency. She then gave me a sheet of all the clinics (walkup and hospital) and I left, in tears, and drove home swearing and crying and just basically bummed out.
I’m better now. I vented to my online friends, and that helped.
Tonight Hubby let Suzie into the house. He’s not supposed to do that. The poor kitty’s face is all scratched up and one eye won’t open all the way. His left ear looks worse than ever and I can only wonder what the cat he got into the fight with looks like. Anyway, his owners are away and he’s been hanging around here constantly for days. Another neighbour generally looks after their pets when they’re gone, but Hubby took pity on the poor guy and let him in to have a saucer of milk.
I was sitting up here at the computer, starting this entry, when I heard Suzie’s unmistakable “meow?” I turned around and there he was, at the top of the stairs, getting ready to leave his scent markings on everything in the attic. I picked him up and carried him downstairs, back to the bowl of milk and Hubby, and he started roaming again, purring like he’d swallowed a coffee grinder. So I took him and the bowl of milk outside and closed the screen door. I would love to let him leave his dander everywhere, but my allergies would object.
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