Saturday morning; ablutions done, prayers offered, coffee brewed, I’m ready for the day. As I plopped on the couch I realized I left my phone on the charger next to the bed. I am not up to riding the knee scooter to the stairs, backing up said stairs on my butt, hiking myself up from the floor on crutches, hobbling to the bedroom, creeping along in the dark as quiet as clunking metal crutches allow, to grab my phone. Then I would repeat this in reverse, all that effort expended just so I can get a dozen spam calls before noon. Maybe after my coffee.
The Cubs completed their dismantling of the team yesterday. For once I’m not sure I can stomach the losses to come over the balance of the year.
It looks like more lock downs and mask mandates are on the horizon. I reluctantly went along before. I figured it was pointless, but couldn’t hurt. This time I will not be so cooperative.
It seems Big Box home improvement failed to code my claim correctly in June. They approved my leave, but didn’t put me in for short term disability. I don’t understand, since the first words out of my mouth when I finally got through the multitudes of phone trees was “I want to file for short term disability “. Now they text me I have to get more forms filled out from my doctor.* So Monday, my insurance company and I will have an ugly conversation. They can see I have a broken foot that had to be repaired surgically from the useless FLA leave they approved. In the meantime I haven’t been paid for a month. To say I’m pissed would be an understatement. I won’t win over the bureaucracy, but I will make a pain of myself in the interim. So far, I can’t even get a supervisor to call me back.
I know I’ve started a new job, but they owe me three weeks of pay.
I know you feel bad for me. If you loved me you would fry up some bacon and over easy eggs. That would mollify my angst.
That’s what I thought.
Oh well, have a great Saturday. I plan on it.
*see previous post on this bureaucratic nightmare.