Suzy Says

I know you’ve been wondering why you shouldn’t hitch-hike (I hope you haven’t already started thumbing your way across the country, especially if you’re a fetching blonde wearing a cute hat) and where on earth I’ve been lately.

For now, you’ll just have to take my word about the perils of catching a ride with a total stranger, particularly the totally strange kind of stranger, but I promise to elaborate more fully soon. It’s been such an icky week that I haven’t had the energy or frivolity to blog. I’ll give you a brief recap and spare you the details, because that’s how much I love you.

The DMV: Really, need I say more? Even though I had an appointment, just being there was depressing. The lines for those who didn’t have appointments was so long that it doubled back on itself twice. A disinterested security guard tried to keep the line in some kind of order. As I waited for my number to be called, I thought that these were really the huddled masses yearning to be free. Or at least to be free of the DMV. When my number was up, it turned out that I was missing a piece of essential paperwork, so I’ll have to go again on Tuesday. I know, I know, you wish were Me.

The Farmacia Whatsit: For those without health insurance or a sugar daddy, there is the misleadingly named QuickHealth. Quick it is not, and the frustration can’t be good for one’s blood pressure. I made two attempts to see a doctor this week (don’t worry, I’m fine). The first time, I was told it would be three hours, so I abandoned hope and left. The second time, I was told it was a mere two hours. I asked if I could make an appointment, and they said I couldn’t. I pointed out that every time I came, it was hours of waiting time, and they said to come back at 3:00 and they’d put my name on the list. So it was sort of a non-appointment appointment. I did have time to peruse the shelves and wonder what things like belladonna cream were for (isn’t that one of the poisons medieval women used to make their pupils huge when that was the style? Like arsenic to make complexions white in Elizabethan times and botox now?) before I finally saw the doctor.

Storage: Yet another depressing foray to the storage. Every time I roll open the door, there’s death and divorce staring me in the face. Not to mention three generations worth of crap. I’m beginning to think I’m going to have to take a load of boxes, a roll of garbage bags, and some vodka and spend a few days sorting and trashing. Want to help?