6/5/08: Insomnia Overwhelms
My sleeping schedule is more erratic than a teenaged girl off her meds. This is getting bad. It’s not to the point where I’m walking around work in a daze, since I’m getting eight hours. It’s just that those eight hours are broken in half, where I pass out in the early evening and then again at Ridiculous O’Clock.
Don’t worry, you don’t need to tell me that I need eight hours of uninterrupted sleep. I know this. I just haven’t been able to do it lately, hence the writing of this blog and updates I’ve been doing to the website.
The Stanley Cup is over. I was watching ESPN the other day, and apparently the Chicken Wings got beat in one game by the Emperor Penguins in triple sudden death, and David Crosby’s old, broken, dazed and mustached ass was skating around and scoring goals! Can anybody confirm this?!
In all seriousness, congratulations to Detroit I guess. I didn’t watch a single game despite what I heard about Game 5. The last time this many people were talking and writing about it, I was tricked into watching an actual hockey game. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I hate hockey. Sorry, I just do.
I went to get an eye exam and my contact prescription refilled on Saturday, and they still haven’t called me to let me know that they came in. I suppose I should give them a call, since the brain surgeons working the desk argued with me that I provided the wrong phone number to them, at which point I had to take the sheet they were looking at physically from them and note that yes, the phone number is correct, that’s a “2” and they just can’t read each other’s handwriting.
This was after they had a discussion in front of me that the number was “denied service,” which I panicked because I assumed they meant my health insurance. Of course, they talked to each other and not me, with me standing RIGHT THERE, and when they asked if they had my correct number, there was confusion until one of them clarified that it was my PHONE NUMBER and not my INSURANCE NUMBER that was “denied service.” Meaning they dialed the wrong number because, as mentioned previously, they can’t read each other’s handwriting. Which I pointed out to them, and also noted that the reason for the confusion was that they spent far too much time talking to each other and not with me. You know, their fucking customer.
So yeah, the contacts are probably in, and I’m sure they still have the wrong number despite me providing the correct one and re-writing it for them. I should probably give them a call from work tomorrow.
And I don’t even want to tell you how much I ended up paying for all this bullshit. Having horrible eyesight and astigmatism in both eyes isn’t fun, financially or otherwise. Neither does having insurance through your work that doesn’t really cover anything for eye exams. Ugh.
Also, I’ve been miserable at my job this week. Nothing terrible’s happened, it’s just one of those weeks where I’ve wanted to be anywhere but there.
Tegan and Sara are the only thing keeping me sane this week. Thanks, ladies.