Four and a half hours

Four and a half. Fucking. Hours. That's how long the cable guy was here today. He showed up about 10 and left about 2:30. In between, he told me that a) I couldn't work a DVD player and digital cable at the same time; b) that he couldn't program my DVD player and digital cable to work in the living room because the original remote was missing from the TV, and that the one in the bedroom wouldn't co-ordinate because it was a TV/VCR combo; and c) that he had to leave because his supervisor told him that all they did was put in the cable, and making anything else work wasn't their problem. Welcome to Charter Cable. Mother was amazed at what an ordeal it was. I was kicking myself because I should have known better. This is why we had cable taken out in the first place. But I just can't afford $60 a month to watch TV, and the DirecTV had quit working anyway.

It was NOT a good day to go morphine-free.

But it is in, and everything is working. Finally. God only knows how screwed up the bill is going to be. But I guess I'll deal with it when I feel better. Right now the important thing is that it's over and Mom at least has TV to watch while she's here.

***

When he finally left, Mom got her shower and stuff and made me lunch. Two mushroom-soaked bread pieces, and this was after cheese-grits and eggs this morning. Thus far, I'm living pretty high on the hog for someone with an adult tonsillectomy.

After lunch, I rested for a while, and then we went to pay the auto dealership for my service and warranty work done on the The Bomber. $475. It should be driving like a new car. It is a relief to get this warranty thing out of the way. I guess I have probably scheduled too much stuff, but I figured while I didn't need it and had someone to help me would be the best time to go ahead and get it taken care of. They were at least nice at the dealership, as well they should have been. $475 worth of fluids. I should have been able to get Eartha Kitt's blood at those prices.