You remember Spartacus? I blogged about him a couple of days ago? Well, his beautiful owner has decided, after she and the vet saw some improvement, to try to keep Spartacus going. It's going to be tough, and he may never get back bowel and bladder control. He may never walk again without assistance from a cart or other contraption. But his people love him and they're going to try.
Please remember--don't encourage your dogs to leap high, twist, or otherwise contort themselves. The results can be disastrous.
It's been a devastating couple of days. The bills have overcome us, and we are, to be blunt, screwed. I have 300 dollars worth of dental work scheduled for tomorrow, and we can only make that if we max every card we have. That's right. And it turns out we have three accounts past due--something that never happens to us, but the gigantic dental bill plus the various medical bills of late have really sunk us. For anyone thinking, "How could you send your kid to camp, then?" please know that we paid for camp back in February. Things were much rosier in February.
No, there was no way to get a refund. I asked.
So we've got credit-crushing problems, overdue bills, a dental appointment I can't cancel (once they've put in the temp crown, you're pretty much stuck--you've got to get it finished), and potentially major medical bills for our boy looming. Oh, and the landlord still hasn't answered the "renew the lease" question.
I have been scouring for work the past couple of months, looking for at-home (preferred) or call center-type stuff that can work. See, we have ONE car and the nearest mass transit stop is miles away and goes straight into DC--no real "route." The nearest shopping center is miles away. In fact, there are no businesses within reasonable walking distance.
Plus, as a heavy woman, I have no wardrobe. Nothing.
What are my skills?
Hmmm.
I can restore/repair photos on the computer. I'm pretty good at it. I can do research like a maniac. I can create pretty memorials for dead folks. I can proofread with the best of them. I'm a pretty good editor/writer, and I'm excellent at penning product and destination reviews. In fact, I write like crazy, and get paid like crap HERE. I once sold an article for real, live money, and it was widely published/shared amongst news stations and websites. It was about why dryers normally don't qualify for Energy Star ratings, and it was my one big hit.
I also wrote about oral transmission of STDs, Big Wheels, and adverse reactions to the smallpox vaccine. Because I'm flexible that way.
In other words, I'm fat, without a wardrobe, and pretty much without marketable skills. My computer/internet doesn't meet the requirements for at home call center work, and I can't lift more than 20 lbs. I can't be on my feet for any length of time most days, and . . .
Oh, wow. You wanna know the biggest bummer? I can't even take anti-depressants to stop feeling this awful because they're not safe with the medication I take for the arrhythmia.
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| Spartacus, who is back home with his family |
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No, there was no way to get a refund. I asked.
So we've got credit-crushing problems, overdue bills, a dental appointment I can't cancel (once they've put in the temp crown, you're pretty much stuck--you've got to get it finished), and potentially major medical bills for our boy looming. Oh, and the landlord still hasn't answered the "renew the lease" question.
I have been scouring for work the past couple of months, looking for at-home (preferred) or call center-type stuff that can work. See, we have ONE car and the nearest mass transit stop is miles away and goes straight into DC--no real "route." The nearest shopping center is miles away. In fact, there are no businesses within reasonable walking distance.
Plus, as a heavy woman, I have no wardrobe. Nothing.
What are my skills?
Hmmm.
I can restore/repair photos on the computer. I'm pretty good at it. I can do research like a maniac. I can create pretty memorials for dead folks. I can proofread with the best of them. I'm a pretty good editor/writer, and I'm excellent at penning product and destination reviews. In fact, I write like crazy, and get paid like crap HERE. I once sold an article for real, live money, and it was widely published/shared amongst news stations and websites. It was about why dryers normally don't qualify for Energy Star ratings, and it was my one big hit.
I also wrote about oral transmission of STDs, Big Wheels, and adverse reactions to the smallpox vaccine. Because I'm flexible that way.
In other words, I'm fat, without a wardrobe, and pretty much without marketable skills. My computer/internet doesn't meet the requirements for at home call center work, and I can't lift more than 20 lbs. I can't be on my feet for any length of time most days, and . . .
Oh, wow. You wanna know the biggest bummer? I can't even take anti-depressants to stop feeling this awful because they're not safe with the medication I take for the arrhythmia.
Oh, hell. I'm getting utterly maudlin here.
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Speaking of feeling rotten and sad and disappointed, I came across my Psi Chi "appreciation" certificate. You see, I served a year as Vice-President of my University's Psi Chi chapter. At the end of the year, the President had certificates made up, and on mine? She listed me as "Secretary." Now, there's nothing wrong with being the Secretary, except I wasn't--I was the Vice-President. I asked her about it, and she promised to "fix that right away," but, of course, didn't. All these years, I've had that stupid certificate in a folder somewhere because, when I look at it, it just makes me sad. Today, I came across it, and decided "screw it" and fixed it in Photoshop. No, not the same as actually being appreciated or recognized, but it'll be something I can print out so my boy can know that about me. It's something that shows that once I did something that made me feel accomplished.
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| The bad, evil version |
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| The "fixed" version. |
Yes, I pulled my name off them because--well, because I've gotten some ugly "hate mail"-type comments on a few of my blog entries, and why put my name out there?
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Pretty sure we know now what our boy did to himself. Looks like he's torn the penile suspensory ligament. We won't know for certain until we can afford to take him in. Which may be a month or more down the line.
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And that's all. Looks like the Right is looking to try to shut down the government and put my husband out of work. Again. What is this, the 38th time they've tried to overturn "Obamacare?" Such terrible people. I don't want to think about it right now.
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Oh, and hey--if you live in Tickland, Ticktown, Tickville, or Mosquito Coast, read my latest. I need the readers, and you need the information:
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