Monday, January 02, 2006
I constructed a battle plan, in order that I might finally read every tome on my shelf: one book stays in my gym locker, for when I ride the bike machine thingy; another book I'll carry around to read between classes and at work. Some of these books I've had since I lived in St. Louis, and simply never finished. The situation is ridiculous.
I finally went to the doctor this afternoon; she prescribed Claritin and some other medication that I should take for about two weeks to unclog my ear. According to the physician, my ear is behaving "like a child": some tube that usually lies at a steep incline in an adult (preventing most infections) lies, in me, at a more closely horizontal slant, enabling bacteria to slolem (or luge) their merry way through this tube, unimpeded.
As the insurance company I use currently refuses to contract with the University, I must trek to CVS to fill the prescription (the difference is about forty dollars). I sat, diligently reading, at the bus stop for about twenty minutes, only to look up from a particularly uninteresting paragraph to observe the bus I was to hail sailing by, entirely indifferent to the comic expressions of shock and dejection on my face. I shall make a second attempt in a moment, for I have spent the past hour in the library.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 12:54 PM]