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kageotogiYesterday was a really informative day. I took the day off work so I could run some errands and take the cat to the vet, so, in chronological order, this is what I learned:
1. If you live on a half-street like I do (it's an avenue, but it's like an alley) where it is necessary to often park your car partially on the sidewalk, you can do some serious damage to your tires. I found a flat tire on my passenger side when I went to go to dance on Tuesday (alas, I never made it there) This was mildly upsetting for two reasons. One, I just bought four brand new tires a little over a year ago and two, a few months ago my driver's side tire was slashed and had to be replaced. This one didn't look slashed, so I drove my car around the corner to get the tire patched yesterday morning. It turns out that sidewalk parking can actually damage your tire badly enough that you cannot patch it: I had about a one-inch slit in the tread of the tire. The nice man who helped me found me a gently used tire and put it on, however, so I'm $40 poorer but a little more knowledgeable. No more brand new tires for me! (At least... not until I live somewhere that doesn't require sidewalk parking.)
2. My around-the-corner tire place also does general maintenance. One of the other customers waiting there (he was replacing his battery) told me he won't go anywhere else for car maintenance, as he's found these guys are the fastest, nicest, and fairest people around. I already have a semi-regular mechanic over near where my parents live, but that's an hour's drive away. I might have to look into replacing him with these guys, since they're only two minutes down the street.
3. This past Wednesday, I set about weeding the little area between my back fence and the parking lot behind my house (the business that owns the lot has always down the landscaping, so I never had to worry about it before. I think they're cutting costs or something, because their landscapers are never out there anymore and, well, the area between my fence and their parking lot was ridiculously unruly), and I broke the first cardinal rule of gardening: even if it's hot, wear long sleeves. So I went to work Thursday with my arms covered in red bumps. I wasn't sure if it was poison ivy (to which I am terribly allergic, or thought I was) or bug bites (chiggers?) or what. So Friday after the tire place, I drove down to the local walk-in clinic. The verdict was poison ivy, even though it doesn't itch nearly as badly as I remembered and my face hasn't swollen up like it did the past several times I caught it. To be fair, the last time I had poison ivy was, like, my freshman year of high school, but it was still pretty awful. I think I had to take school pictures with my face swollen to twice its usual size. Awful. (I hope we burned those.)
Anyway, what I learned (and wish I'd known back in my teen and pre-teen years): if you go to the clinic for poison ivy, the wonderful nurse practitioner will write you a prescription. This prescription is to be used on thick skin only (so not your face or neck), but basically it keeps the oil of the poison ivy from spreading... and reduces the rash and bumps so they're barely noticeable. Whereas I looked like I had the plague yesterday morning, today no one knew I had poison ivy until I mentioned it and told them not to hug me (just in case. Technically, it's not contagious unless they tried to scratch my arms, but still. Just in case).
4. While at the clinic, I also got a tetanus booster. I think the last time I got one was right before I went to college, so I was due. The shot didn't hurt a bit, but the nurse must have used extra-strength band-aids or something. It's been over 24 hours and I've taken several showers in the interim and I still can't peel that thing off. (And, when I try, it feels like I'm trying to take off several layers of skin.) My upper arm also hurts like crazy, and it turns out that instead of asking for the shot in my non-dominant arm, what I should do is request that they give me the shot on the side I don't normally sleep on. Because ow.
5. After the clinic, I took the cats to the vet. There, I learned that my epileptic, seizure-prone cat has somehow developed a heart murmur. Whether this was physiologically caused by stress (it happens, but it's unusual) or if this is an actual condition, I have no idea. I'll find out in a few weeks when I take said cat to the veterinary cardiologist. Because apparently that's a thing.
Meanwhile, my less-than-intelligent-it's-a-good-thing-he's-pretty, totally healthy cat continues to be totally healthy. So at least there's that.
6. After learning that my cat has a heart murmur (which will probably just require frequent monitoring or pills, but shouldn't effect him at all and is only concerning because he's only 3 and 3-5 years are apparently the ages when Bad Things can start to happen), I went home and decided I needed comfort food. Because while my cats didn't give two craps about their veterinary experience, I was itchy and upset because my already highly-medicated cat (seriously, this cat. I have to keep a close eye on his diet and his bowel movements just to make sure he isn't experiencing liver damage as a result of his epilepsy medication) had a heart murmur. So I covered myself in calomine lotion (for the itch) and ordered a pizza.
Turns out the delivery guy doesn't know better than to stare at the pink-blotched, puffy eyed chick who answers the door. Though in his defense, pink-blotched and puffy eyed though I was, I hadn't had the foresight to put pants on over the boxers I was wearing as pajama bottoms. And said boxers are green with bright pink crabs on them. Y'know. To go with the calomine lotion.
Whatever. That pizza was frickin' delicious.
1. If you live on a half-street like I do (it's an avenue, but it's like an alley) where it is necessary to often park your car partially on the sidewalk, you can do some serious damage to your tires. I found a flat tire on my passenger side when I went to go to dance on Tuesday (alas, I never made it there) This was mildly upsetting for two reasons. One, I just bought four brand new tires a little over a year ago and two, a few months ago my driver's side tire was slashed and had to be replaced. This one didn't look slashed, so I drove my car around the corner to get the tire patched yesterday morning. It turns out that sidewalk parking can actually damage your tire badly enough that you cannot patch it: I had about a one-inch slit in the tread of the tire. The nice man who helped me found me a gently used tire and put it on, however, so I'm $40 poorer but a little more knowledgeable. No more brand new tires for me! (At least... not until I live somewhere that doesn't require sidewalk parking.)
2. My around-the-corner tire place also does general maintenance. One of the other customers waiting there (he was replacing his battery) told me he won't go anywhere else for car maintenance, as he's found these guys are the fastest, nicest, and fairest people around. I already have a semi-regular mechanic over near where my parents live, but that's an hour's drive away. I might have to look into replacing him with these guys, since they're only two minutes down the street.
3. This past Wednesday, I set about weeding the little area between my back fence and the parking lot behind my house (the business that owns the lot has always down the landscaping, so I never had to worry about it before. I think they're cutting costs or something, because their landscapers are never out there anymore and, well, the area between my fence and their parking lot was ridiculously unruly), and I broke the first cardinal rule of gardening: even if it's hot, wear long sleeves. So I went to work Thursday with my arms covered in red bumps. I wasn't sure if it was poison ivy (to which I am terribly allergic, or thought I was) or bug bites (chiggers?) or what. So Friday after the tire place, I drove down to the local walk-in clinic. The verdict was poison ivy, even though it doesn't itch nearly as badly as I remembered and my face hasn't swollen up like it did the past several times I caught it. To be fair, the last time I had poison ivy was, like, my freshman year of high school, but it was still pretty awful. I think I had to take school pictures with my face swollen to twice its usual size. Awful. (I hope we burned those.)
Anyway, what I learned (and wish I'd known back in my teen and pre-teen years): if you go to the clinic for poison ivy, the wonderful nurse practitioner will write you a prescription. This prescription is to be used on thick skin only (so not your face or neck), but basically it keeps the oil of the poison ivy from spreading... and reduces the rash and bumps so they're barely noticeable. Whereas I looked like I had the plague yesterday morning, today no one knew I had poison ivy until I mentioned it and told them not to hug me (just in case. Technically, it's not contagious unless they tried to scratch my arms, but still. Just in case).
4. While at the clinic, I also got a tetanus booster. I think the last time I got one was right before I went to college, so I was due. The shot didn't hurt a bit, but the nurse must have used extra-strength band-aids or something. It's been over 24 hours and I've taken several showers in the interim and I still can't peel that thing off. (And, when I try, it feels like I'm trying to take off several layers of skin.) My upper arm also hurts like crazy, and it turns out that instead of asking for the shot in my non-dominant arm, what I should do is request that they give me the shot on the side I don't normally sleep on. Because ow.
5. After the clinic, I took the cats to the vet. There, I learned that my epileptic, seizure-prone cat has somehow developed a heart murmur. Whether this was physiologically caused by stress (it happens, but it's unusual) or if this is an actual condition, I have no idea. I'll find out in a few weeks when I take said cat to the veterinary cardiologist. Because apparently that's a thing.
Meanwhile, my less-than-intelligent-it's-a-good-thing-he's-pretty, totally healthy cat continues to be totally healthy. So at least there's that.
6. After learning that my cat has a heart murmur (which will probably just require frequent monitoring or pills, but shouldn't effect him at all and is only concerning because he's only 3 and 3-5 years are apparently the ages when Bad Things can start to happen), I went home and decided I needed comfort food. Because while my cats didn't give two craps about their veterinary experience, I was itchy and upset because my already highly-medicated cat (seriously, this cat. I have to keep a close eye on his diet and his bowel movements just to make sure he isn't experiencing liver damage as a result of his epilepsy medication) had a heart murmur. So I covered myself in calomine lotion (for the itch) and ordered a pizza.
Turns out the delivery guy doesn't know better than to stare at the pink-blotched, puffy eyed chick who answers the door. Though in his defense, pink-blotched and puffy eyed though I was, I hadn't had the foresight to put pants on over the boxers I was wearing as pajama bottoms. And said boxers are green with bright pink crabs on them. Y'know. To go with the calomine lotion.
Whatever. That pizza was frickin' delicious.
