Thursday, 08/14/2003 Entry: "Oh wow it's the week from hell! Can it get any worse?"

As you know, 17th is when Robert Picardo and Ethan Phillips are in town for one day. They will do a "Doc meets Neelix" skit together. There is an alleged photo op where someone for the convention takes your pic with the star. I don't want my picture taken. I want to take my own picture of Picardo (ok and Phillips too) with my own camera.

Sunday night. Worst time to flag me down for something important or which requires thinking is right before I sign off to go to bed. The colony leader from Cybertown did just that over complaints over my essay on leaving Sci-Fi Colony. People claimed it wasn't true. Of course it is, and it's toned down from what I wrote in greater detail here. I told her it happened, that it's been logged several times over, and that the most I can offer is a paragraph or two of hope for the future for them. No one deserves more than that. I went to bed stressed and slept about 4 hours after that took a chunk out of my sleeptime.

Monday had its ups and downs. The stock answer folders were messed up and a folder of rewritten answers missing from last week was gone. My camera was never broken; I was just sold a bad battery last May/June. Camera and I are one once again. That evening going home was excrutiating. Recurring pain just beyond my middle toe, to the side of the ball of the foot, was hitting new heights. Scratch haircut after work. Just wanted to go home, and I rested my foot on an ice compress most of the evening.

Tuesday the email client at work konked out totally, so we took on other projects for the company after goofing off half the morning. I went in with a cane which helped considerably. Physical therapy was good, and now I have a large rubber ball to use with some exercises. But that doesn't mean the day went unscathed. At lunch I went to an art store nearby, and after having psyched myself up the narrow glass escalator to get mats on the second floor, realized I couldn't get down. I was too freaked. After fearing I couldn't leave the store, I found an elevator. It occurred to me that if the convention this Sunday was on the roof and not the mezzanine, I'd never get in the elevator. News from Dad in the evening was that Mom was committed again to Hillside, this time in the high risk area. Last month mom went wonky but after three weeks HiP (I told dad not to get HiP!) said "okay out she goes!" She was delusional and a potential danger to herself and dad, but they felt as long as she wasnt angry the new medication was fine. Well, she was prone to outbursts (dad: "I wish she'd do this when the nurse's aide is here") and apparently flipped out and tried to fight dad on Tuesday morning. Yeh, everyone who had to see it was there. She's back in thank you HiP. The mat was the wrong size. Again right before bed I was give a poorly worded request from a CD and it sounded like my home block was to be taken away from me. It wasn't the case at all and it again took an unnecessary chunk out of my sleep time.

Wednesday. Lack of sleep. Ornery. At work, answers redrafted were gone again and had to be re re drafted up for use. The guest of honor for an event I am holding in Cybertown on Saturday won't be present due to PC probs (this must be why I rescheduled). Podiatrist diagnoses me with a fracture. The bone is one which most people don't even have. I limped to the bus nearby to go home, forgetting I had to get toilet paper and water (something for each end hahaha). I thought I was careful putting a plastic bag over my soft cast and sealing it with an elastic and some tape, and it got soaked. Need recasting. At least I can stand, just apply the weight elsewhere on the foot and continue with the cane. When I came home, a message on my machine reported that my friend "Elmo" passed away the night before. She was such a mess, and I was unable to visit her in the hospital the final time she checked in due to walking probs. sigh

So here I am at home. Need to schedule and get recast. moannn

Will she make it to the convention? Will she ever meet Robert Picardo and give him the art? Will she even take the friggin elevator? You know that Slanted Fedora sucks donkeys? They never acknowledged receiving my payment (sent in April, cashed in June, show in August), even after two emails. I'm taking the bank printout of the cancelled check with me in case I make it in. Oh wow then I get to stand in line! With my bad foot! yay conventions suck!