bad spelling

---------- kelly writes Date: Thu, 6 Jan 2005 00:46:23 EST
>hi,
i'll be on campus tomorrow thurs 1/6 around noonish
> call me on my cell and maybe we could do lunch
>kelly

---my reply:
good thing I'm reading this mail on time... sigh. it's friday. :/... LET ME KNOW when you're on campus again! although ..at the moment I am working from home, mostly. ;) anyway. it's been too long.
s.

--kelly writes : Fri, 7 Jan 2005 23:07:06 EST>

>oh fuck you...
>i hate friends with kids only worse than those with kids and jobs....
> too much of disappointment and pain in the ass.
>>love ya,
>>kelly
>>p.s. there is always the hope of a boarding school future, but perhaps i'm too optimistic as usual.
>>by the way i'm auditing a class on neichitz with papas, luckily he doesnt want to read my shit (no papers) >>so it's all the joy and none of the anguish...
>what are you doing tues and thrus at 2pm>let me know>

hey. this sounds like a great idea.what's the class's number...so I can look it up (course description)...neichitz??
you don't mean nietzsche, do you? ... shit I'm not even sure if I spelled it right myself. if it is a class on that dude we should probably figure out how to spell his name... ;) ...
hmm. been a while since I read any Nietzsche ..but I think I didn't like him.
anyway ->auditing class. best idea on improving my hectic life I've heard in a long time. (this sentence sounds grammatically wrong but I am too tired to figure out why. good nite. I'm beat.)
s.
PS: boarding school - good idea. how old do they have to be before I can send them? ;)

(post x-mas) trivial knowledge

a forward from my friend zoya:

According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. However female reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring. Therefore, according to every historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer, EVERY single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be a girl. We should've known... ONLY women would be able to drag a fat man in a red velvet suit all around the world in one night and not get lost.

114,000 now?

anything I do seems irrelevant at this point.
so many people dead.
my day goes on but whatever happens gets put into perspective. I think about the extent of this tragedy all the time.

anyway. I am taking back one of my statements earlier... about my belief in people.
There are a lot of people out there who moved their asses to find a way to help.
On the day of the news of the tsunamis the American Red Cross received 18 Mio. dollars in donations.

so. I moved my ass, whipped out that overdrawn credit-card and donated, too.
now, at least, I don't suck all thaat much anymore.

if you have your wallet on you, click here:
http://www.usaid.gov/our_work/humanitarian_assistance/disaster_assistance/help/index.html
or here:
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=4248155

I feel very blessed and puzzled on why my life has been pretty good so far. Of course, I've been bitching but really... I am very lucky compared to all the people worldwide who have to endure so much suffering.
Is this all random?
Back I am at the question of What is Life all about?

Anyway, if you're greatful for what you have then go donate.

Very bad story from last night (cellphone guy meeting) I will tell a little later.
I am still shaking.

now what should I say to that? (lost cellphone story part#1)

so, I lost my cellphone a week ago or so. i switch my number the next day to an old-ass phone and begin checking my voicemail for messages left during my separation from my number.
guy leaves message ..."yeah, somebody called my phone from this number. call me back."
so I call and tell him that I dropped my phone on the street somewhere and whoever found it must be someone who knows his phonenumber by heart.
I convince him to help me get my phone back somehow.
guy is pretty street, as far as I can tell, but nevertheless quite honest. calls me back a few times with speculations about which of his boys might have that nice nextel. finally, after a few days he calls again and tells me he noticed one of his friends with his new treasure. It's my phone.
That's great, I say (trying not to say 'fantastic', 'fabulous' or any similar kind of dorky-white-chick or funny-gay-man words). "I'm so excited!" (realize, shouldn't have said that either. sounded just as above established stereotypes.)
"Yeah, well," the guy says, "I don't think he's gonna give it to you, though."
"Ehm, why are you calling me then?" I say. "Are you teasing me?"
"Well, maybe he could give you your sim-card ...or maybe you could work out a deal," he says.
work out a deal? I wonder, the guy found my phone...what kind of deal will he prepare for me? Will I have to buy back my phone?

mediator guy (Jose, I find out is his name) tells me once again that he's going to call me back.
Days pass by and he finally calls this evening telling me I could meet the guy who has my phone and I should set up a date and time.

Well, I'm really not planning to buy back my phone (given that I got it from my job...i.e. never paid a dime for it), ...and the sim-card won't fit in this stupid old phone I am using now anyway. But I am really intrigued to find out what the hell this dude is going to say (Hi, nice to meet you ...I ain't givin' you your phone, just so you know.";) , ...so I am meeting those two tomorrow eve.

Wish me luck.

50.000 dead and counting....

I just can't get over these devastating news of the earthquake (and tsunamis) at the coasts of the Indian Ocean. 50.000 people.... all the news of war casualties (civil, soldiers, whatever side) which have upset me over the past months (and years) are suddenly put into perspective. So much more shit going on in this world.
Of course, this is a natural catastrophe but that doesn't take away from its impact and its reminder of how little we matter (we humans ... in this history of the world...this planet).

I wish I could drop everything, organize a big troop of volunteers and get over there to help.
But my belief in people (and the sacrifices they're willing to make) is rather faint...
It takes a lot to take such action. A lot of faith and determination and a whole bunch of other virtues only a few are equipped with.

i suck.
(but as the world keeps turning I am putting in a moment of silence in light of this very terrible disaster.)

jobs on the horizon (where they remain)

got offered a pretty cool job (and with cool I mean well paid)... unfortunately there's no way I'd get down to Wall Street by 9am.
i can't even make it to my job which is a 15 min. commute by car...i don't think I can even term this kind of drive to work a "commute" ... .... if I didn't have two small children I would have sooo taken that job...just to move on already.
sigh .. here is the more detailled mail my friend sent me (the one of referred me):

>yo mama,
>it's paying betwn 65k to 80k a year that's a lot of money. staff photographer for the nasdaq. >they will buy any and all the digital equip you want. shooting mostly guys in ties. sitting on >your ass, uploading the daily images to the website and maintaining their archives.
>piece of cake for you.
>call me so you can be a rich bitch.
>kelly

NY vs Austria news

here some of today's headlines of NYC local news:

Ripoffs secretly for sale
Man hurled down garbage shaft
Homeless man pitied, killed
Ex-con shot dead by cops
2 hurt as cops nab driver in smash-&-dash
May lose license - for 82nd time
The Justice Story: The South Side Strangler

and here some of today's headlines from Vorarlberg (where I grew up in Austria):

(Arrested: Two thieves in Bludenz and Dornbirn)
(Illegal Race: Undercover police patrol stopped two people 'racing' in Bregenz.
(traffic accident in Koblach)
(recent study: half of all women betw.14 and 24 are in danger of becoming shop-aholics)
(continued avalanche danger)

what happens when the TV/PC stays off one night

I can tell you what happens. Quality-time, ...no kidding. It's almost too corny to blog but D and I had a really good time yesterday and not once did he stray away to the computer or suggest we watch some TV.
Haven't had that much fun with him in a long time.
He must be having an affair.

I JUST can't help it can I? ... but I tell you, everytime I'm suspiciously happy it turns out he's been doing some sh*t behind my back.
This time, I'll try to not notice anything.
Me like-y happiness. And isn't happiness a very vague concept anyway. It's subjective and fragile and totally up to one's state of mind rather than one's state of being (i.e. all physical circumstances). Being happy isn't that easy but if you're good at being positive it doesn't matter what life throws in your way. You'll just deal with it, move on, see the positive aspects, make the best of it.
Hey, don't you like my pep-talk? ... Now I just gotta learn to live by it. ;)

Amongst many little mishaps today (yes, it was one of those days...see "bad day anyone" post earlier somewhere) the one that certainly outlined itself as the highlight of bad luck (or stupidity on my part) was when I managed to spill coffee into my bag three ... I repeat THREE... times in a row. This happened in the waiting room of my physical therapist's office. People started shaking their heads. As I was cleaning up the mess, I fought my tears (of laughter) while trying to satisfy myself with whatever caffeeine was left in the sugary disgusting stuff on the bottom of the cup.
If it things get this ridiculous, staying positive is actually much easier than at other times. Then again, I might also be close to a nervous break-down at that point and might possibly mistake my quiet laughter for positive attitude.
;)

Maia the Toddler Linguist

we're washing our hands. Maia has two soaps to her disposal but, of course, wants my precious body&bath&whatever-anyway-too-much-money-spent-on-it soap.
"ok, but only a liiittle bit." I say.
she manages to squeeze a quite small amount on her hand. I'm amazed, for she usually goes for whole hand coverage (on both hands).
Feeling a bit guilty about my stingyness I explain: " Only a little bit because this is special soap. it is very expensive."
Silence. Maia rubs her hands obviously in deep thought.
Then she looks up to me and asks: "it's soap for pants??"
"pants?" I wonder... then I catch up to her analysis of the word she just heard..
"ex-pants-sive".

;)

moving on where/what/why?

Dario is once again ready to move on. Mr. A.D.D., I tell you.
Aren't you happy in our new place," I asked him, "I mean, we just moved here barely a year and a half ago. It's possibly one of the best deals one can find in NYC but already you are unhappy and want more or different things. Don't you like our view of the water reservoir or the GW Bridge? Do you feel cramped in our 1000 sq.feet? Is the $300 mortgage too low? Does it make the place seem less worth? What about the 15 min. commute to work? Too short?
- "no", he said, " I just want to move on. I'm ready. I want a house already. Or I want to move out of NYC. I've been here all my life."
- "did it ever occur to you that you might not be able to be happy? cause I'm seeing a pattern here. Your enthusiasm is great before getting ANYTHING that's new or different but it always wears off quickly and then your comments go from "I would be so happy with this [...]" to "I hate this [...]". ... the car, the dog, every place we ever moved to, ...you name it."
- "I've wanted a house for a long time. I'm ready."
- " I think you're romanticizing house ownership. It's no picknick. We are living from pay-check to pay-check now, how would we afford a house? Also, there is ALWAYS something broken in a house... always things to do and we both know you ain't doing anything unless we're at the verge of a break-up."

- "what about Austria?" he asked. "Are we going to move there or not?"

I really want to move back, I do. But I have come to the conclusion that this might be more complicated than I have thought. Before, I was only thinking about difficulties such as finding a job, me having to readjust to the Austrian work-ethic and coping with the fact that I will actually have to be at work by 8 a.m.
Furthermore, I worried about Dario's assimilation and employability.
It's just different over there. Much stricter. And Dario is worse with punctuality than I am.
Also, he speaks no German. ...
And what about the stupid politics ... and the lack of diversity.
Ok, granted ... politics over here very much annoying, as well....in fact, more so than anything else.... but I don't know if I could live in a country without black people. It would seem weird.
In fact, I don't think I could live anywhere in the U.S. where there is a lack of diversity... and I'm white (according to those damn check-boxes). ....
sigh... well..

AAHH. my boss just jumped into my office.
almost gave me a heart-attack.
I'm supposed to be working.... don't even have a pretend work-window up in the background, which I could quickly jump to in case of unexpected office-visits.
shit. ok. I'm getting back to work.
see. I'd be fired in Austria. ..It's even unprofessional to take any personal calls at work.
This widely spread practice here (chatting with friends online or on the phone) took me a while to adjust to. I still don't like it actually... don't have enough time.
ok.
i'm going.
bye.

haunted apartment?

I don't know if I have mentioned before that my daughter seems to be a bit psychic. She knew a month before I was pregnant. She sometimes knows who is going to call, who is coming over, and where she is going. ... So I've come to believe she's inherited a little bit of an extra sense from her dad. The latter's experiences I won't even try to put into this blog today. Too freaky.

anyway, ..so, the other night Maia comes to me, a flashlight in her hand, and tells me there is a monster in our room and how scary it looks in there. "Every dark room looks scary if you're fiddling around in it with a flash-light," I say and walk past her into the room to turn on the light.

As I reach for the light-switch of our little bedside table lamp I see something move next to me on the floor.
I almost caught a heart-attack. As I turned on the light I could see that it was Maia's teddy-bear (well, actually it used to be my older brother's) that had moved.
But really, it's hard to describe, for it happened at the same moment I reached for the light.
From my peripheral vision it looked like the teddy-bear had been dropped from a very low height.
I try to console myself with the rational thought that it had dropped from somewhere ... maybe because of vibrations I caused walking into the room?
Very lame rational explanation, especially if familiar with the room's set-up but I am clinging to it like the victim of a ship-wreck.
If I see ANYTHING of non-physical appearance in my beloved home I am moving out. Don't care how much blood,sweat, tears, and dough I've put into it.

However, grounded by this very spooky experience I brought myself to say out loud, "there are no monsters, honey..... ghosts maybe...but no monsters." As if that was going to make it ok.

Later on, as I was laying in bed with Maia (finishing her bed-time story) I investigated a bit more (since I was still a bit freaked out).
I asked, "so what does the monster do to you, Maia?"
"It pushes me into the stomach" she replied promptly.
"When does this happen?" I asked.
"At night, when I want to come to your bed."
"So,...you tell that monster to get away and to stop it, ok?"
"ok." she sighed.
A little while later, as she drifted off to sleep she mumbled: "Mami, ... the monster is not listening. It's not going away."

Kids really have a quite vivid imagination. ... But she's not even three, yet. I thought this starts later on. ... The whole imaginary friend... or in this case foe kinda thing.

and so the back-talking begins

it's bedtime. once again Maia has managed to procrastinate her daily fate by announcing that she has to poop, which could mean an indefinite time on the toilet with or without result.
So, there she sits, in the bathroom, a book on her lap, reading out loud. For the third time I approach her with the question, whether or not she's finished. girl ignores me.
"excuuse me. hellooo. I am talking to you", I plead.
she sighs... "well, you're talking aaall the time."
I'm in shock and perplexed I answer: "well, excuse me... I asked you a question."
she sighs again deeply, looks at me and says in her coolest voice: "what?"
"are you done?", I ask(without correcting her language...still shocked by her fresh tone).
"Nope." she finishes me up and goes back to reading her book.

Note to myself: need to work on disciplining skills.

got screwed >:C

got screwed big time. did this website for a discount price (half of what I usually charge as a favor to the person referring me). anyway, they screwed me, are not paying me.HEY, this is my blog I can publish NAMES if I want to:it is the South Beach Hostel in Miami Beach that has screwed me. Spent two months on the design, thanks to the manager who took weeks to reply to my e-mails and subtly pushed off work which was his on me (i.e. communication with online reservations agent, hosting company, registration comp. etc.).
Anyway, in the fall I finally got them to go live. explained that a website was a dynamic thing and edits will always hang in the air...they should go live, losing business if not, etc....so finally I got the ok to publish.then the owner comes around and says he wants to edit a few lines and change a margin/color/graphic here and there. I remind them of my discount price to them but do changes anyway (sucker that I am).Finally submit my invoice.Hear nothing back.Then get notice from the person who referred me to them that they're not going to pay me.Something about taking too long with changes or ..whatever. Realize that little manager bastard I had been dealing with used me to blame his unprofessionalism and tardiness in e-mail reply on when being confronted by his boss (the owner). Unfortunate thing is, though, that the manager and the boss are best friends or something so my word won't count shit.
So, I went to the site and realize that they are using some twenty dollar design someone threw together based on some generic template he probably downloaded off of some site.
ooooh. I got sooo screwed. 1500 bucks. ... good thing I made a 1500 bucks site for them as opposed to what I usually create. Then I would have been really pissed.BUT either way it's 1500 dollars. ... and I have 89 in my account...soo it's not like I didn't need it.BAAASTAAAARDS!!!!!!!
this should teach me. ... DON't ever do a job without a making a written contract before-hand.And if you do and they screw you, you better be evil enough to f*ck them over the same way afterwards.Unfortunately, I am not, otherwise I would mobilize my Hacker friends to take them offline for as long as they try to get on.Why do I have to be so bloody ethical? Why can't I be on the screwing end for a change? Why do I always end up as the victim? I'm such a stupid sucker. So many past-midnight hours... so much work down the drain.

hopping with a bright red cane

hey carla,
thanks for the photo link.
always love to look at your travel albums (..live vicariously through you;) ... better make sure you're done traveling before putting any off-spring out there (well.."out there" wouldn't be so bad, I suppose... I should be more specific ... in YOUR house taking over YOUR life for the next 18 or so years;) ... am I being too cynical? oh well, I'm allowed to ...I'm a second-time mom at the edge.

OK, here my book suggestion... Haven't read it, of course (like I have time to;) but am very intrigued to (supposed to be funny, odd, etc.) :
"Naked" by...ehm... I should look it up..hold on... ok, hope this link works when you click it: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0316777730/qid=1102003399/sr=2-1/ref=pd_ka_b_2_1/002-6683477-6728860
The book is by David Sedaris.

gotta go walk the dog now. sh*t, it's cold. don't want to. but dario (usually damned to midnight dog walking) twisted his ankle yesterday and has been hopping around with a cane since then.
He called me from the road when it happened. I had to hold my laughter, for he was telling me --whose 18 hour labor he had been present for -- how this was the worst pain he had ever felt and "oh, no".. he was getting nauseous. He was a bit insulted by my giggles and told me it's not funny. Honey, I told him, you twisted your ankle and you act like you got shot. To me that's funny.

Anyway, everytime he puts too much pressure on the bad foot he squeals like a girl. Does complain about the questionable look of the cane I got him, though. Apparently it's not manly enough for him (granted, I did buy it at the 99cents store. bright-red, shiny, and quite nicely shaped). However, may I add that he uttered this macho-complaint only a second after he had urged me to not change the radio-station, for it was playing his (and I quote:) favorite song in the whole wide world ... something by the Bee Gees.
I told him to reexamine the possiblity of him being gay, after all. Fine with me. I'd love to have a good excuse to finally go have sex with someone else. He told me to shut up and that he's just very comfortable with his sexuality. okey-dokey.

oh well. enough procrastination.
going to walk the dog now.
nite-nite,
s. :)

pop-up visits are ok

hey val,
really would love to come visit one day ...meet your kids and all...but I'm not getting my hopes up too high, for I can't even make it to my best friend's more than 3 times a year and she lives in Queens. ;)

HEY, but if you're in NYC (or the Bronx, that is)... feel free to come see us! Just give me a call. I don't care about pop-up visits either. My house will always be a mess (at least for the next few years), so I'm not even going to try to pretend I can keep it clean at this point.

I'm planning to take the kids to a holiday event in the Bronx Zoo this Sunday. They'll have live reindeer and lights ...well, I guess, they always have live reindeer there..after all, it is the zoo. ...
Anyway, ... let me know if you're up to it.

;) ttyl,
s.

changing my blogging format (it's for the better)

ok. so I've decided to change my blogging format the following way:
I will begin posting excerpts from some of my e-mails to friends. These usually contain similar information to what I blog and this way I'll save time. The way my life is going at this moment I just don't have much me-time at the computer anymore (unless someone starts paying me and I can defend it as having to work but we all know that ain't gonna happen especially if I keep on saying 'ain't' and use such bad syntax).

So expect e-mail style blogs.
I'm gonna copy/paste one right now.
hold on.

what my daughter wants to be when she grows up

I'm standing in the bathroom trying to fix my hopeless hair as Maia stands next to me obviously restraining herself from picking up the toilet brush, which I've told her is off limits many times. As I watch her in amazement (amazed that she is actually adhering to rules I've set up) she looks at me and tells me straight up (and I quote): Mom, ...when I grow up I'm gonna clean toilets!"

Oh, perfect. That's the kind of ambition you want to see in your child.
Calm myself with the thought that she's 2 and might still change her mind on her career goals.

I don't know how she does it

... has it really been that long that I haven't written. It's frustrating not to have time to blog. I am constantly blogging in my mind. Everything I see I want to comment on. Maybe I'll get a dictaphone so I won't forget what I would like to write down.

Was in training all week. XML. Good thing I don't work in Manhattan, although it definitely would be cool I would have even bigger motherhood guilt issues than I already have working mostly from home. Also, I'd be broke in a minute.

Spent 10 bucks on lunch the first day. I had a small salad and a bottle of water.
So, the second day I skipped lunch and went window-shopping, only that the window-shopping turned into real shopping and I arrived late back at class with a bag full with 250$ worth of clothing.

I can't concentrate. Tv on with strange children show, Maia asking to be fed, Dario not listening for is solely focused on not going outside of lines in one of Maia's coloring-books. Must hide box of crayons from him. Baby is trying to bang on keyboard next to me. ...

Before I log off... one book recommendation for every working mother ... it's hilarious... and at times like an exact documentation of my life.
Another advantage of commuting in and out of Manhattan every day -> get to read (on the train).
... oh... almost forgot here's the booktitle:
"I don't know how she does it"

ok. gotta go now. house to clean. bank to go to. baby to take care of. Maia to feed. work to do (piled up from last week while at training). calls to return.

sorryeverybody.com

A post-election thought...
http://72.3.131.10/gallery/1/

and so I went to see a geriatrics specialist...

yesterday I threw my back out lifting Maia into her stroller. spent the evening and night in compromising positions wailing about the irony of my rapidly progressing physical delapidation after I had just turned 30 last week or so.
this morning I made my way to the family practitioner, who I had picked out of the provider listing while being rushed by one of the Health Benefits people at my job. Usually I research myself to death about everything. I am a walking information center when it comes to the important things in my life ...well, that was all before I had kids.
Picking a primary care physician then (before kids): weeks of research on internet, thorough investigation of listings in Best Doctors of New York issues, interrogation of friends and family about their physicians, doctor qualification checks, comparisons, browsing of considered doctors' publications and contributions to the medical world, and last, but not least location location location (Upper East Side preferred, for have wealthy clients and thus have to keep their act together...i.e. clean office, comfortable waiting area, professional reception, etc.)
Picking a primary care physician this time (i.e. after having adult life and thus time to research): Check if doctor takes our insurance plan. Check if doctor lives in same zip code, preferably on same block.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, I sure picked one crappy place that way.
First of all, I couldn't find the damn office and ...mind you...they are on the same street as I.
Once I finally located the building, it was a mission to A) find the doctor's office listed (finally noticed small note written with permanent marker next to intercom) and B) to actually get into building (Chinese delivery guy let me in) and then find office inside (had to wait for tenants passing by to tell me where the doc's office was located...i.e. NO signs whatsoever).

Once I walked into the reception/waiting area I kinda wanted to turn right around. It was like walking into someone's living room. I felt like I'm invading someone's privacy. The secretary had secured a small corner of the room (which she wasn't sitting in) where she seemed to collect paperwork on a rather random basis of organization. There was no computer, not even a typewriter. The mail in- and out-box where from the 1960s. Once the surprised secretary showed up (surprised to have a patient, I suppose), she gave me an old clip-board to fill in new patient information onto a form someone must have put together 20 years ago or so. (Why does it matter if I am single, married or widowed ... on a doctor's form?)
She then asked me to sign a blank piece of paper (that made me nervous) and requested the $15 co-payment I owed. "At least she knows about the practice of co-payments", I thought as I was digging for change, for they didn't accept credit-cards, of course.
She wrote me a pretty badly torn out receipt, which I think I'm going to have to scan in for you to believe me.
Not only did she put the date down as 2003 but she also misspelled the word fifteen. Unless she learned to write on her own and that's how she makes f-s and t-s (she wrote Tibteen).
Anyway, if you think the mispelling, computer-illiterate (in this day and age) receptionist was bad imagine her leading you into a dusty, messy, and poorly equipped examination room and then multifunctioning as the nurse. At least, wear the white coat to fool me! Thank God, she didn't attempt taking blood or anything but she did try to take my weight (I had to operate the scale, for she was going the wrong way with the top part of it). I had to work hard not to laugh when she then wanted to measure me. I said, "Honey, I'm 30 years old. I haven't grown in 10-15 years. But feel free. Take my measurements." It should be noticed, that I also didn't have to take any of my clothes off for this so-called physical (THANK GOD). But who takes a weight measurement with clothes on (in a doctor's office?!) and a height measurement with shoes on??

Anyway, the doctor turned out to be a really nice guy (I mean, so was the secretary) but there was no examination and I think he was a bit scared of me. When I read his newsletter ( he has a newsletter? you may wonder - yes. a 4 page edition evidently home-printed), I learned that he specializes in geriatrics (oh, well ... I AM getting old). Most of the newsletter adressed the symptoms and remedies for dementia (=altzheimer's), and arthritis.
I must have looked soo out of place.
I sure felt like it.

Well, I didn't get much out of this whole visit. The doc told me to go take tylenol and call him back if the pain doesn't go away. Did he not hear the part, where I told him I was sleeping on the floor because I couldn't take the pain anymore? Did he not hear when I said I get stuck in certain positions as if someone had just shot me? And what about the fact that I walked in and out of that office as if I were one of his regular patients (i.e. 89 years old)?

ok. gotta go get the heating pad.