Where the Day Took Me

[copied from dland]

Physically, the day took me no farther than my own desk chair, except for the mandatory Saturday morning trip to the cleaners and Dunkin Donuts, and a very brief foray to the Container Store. Other than that, I've been right here.

It's been some day.

I got up at eight, and by nine I wanted to crawl back into my bed. But I didn't, and when I finished my coffee, realized that my whole day was clear, and what lay before me was the copying of pages from my medical file. I started at the back, and the first thing that came up was the full surgical report on the brain tumor. The two big revelations here were:

1. The doctors knew ahead of time that it was a benign tumor as well as an acoustic neuroma, although they were very careful to tell me that they weren't 100% sure of either. They were.


2. I could make copies of these files but I had absolutely no place to put them.

The first one. No use crying over spilled brain tumors, and it's 15 years down the road and I'm okay. So, no recriminations here. But if I had known ahead of time that it was an AN, I could have gone to the big AN specialist in New York -- I know his name, and knew it then -- and the opthalmic plastic surgeon who ultimatley fixed my eye over the course of three surgeries would have been in the room with him and would have fixed my eye right that first day. Letting that go, totally.

Second. I needed something to file papers in. Ergo, the Container Store. But when I got home, I had no place to put the containers. Thus began my day of sorting and tossing last year's papers, followed by the sorting and tossing of the stuff in my one file drawer. Friends, this kind of stuff is my downfall. I never throw anything out, even though I know that someday my children will have to toss it all. I keep every paid bill, every bank statement, nearly every receipt. But today, I was ruthless. And I totally did it. I recycled two paper supermarket bags of papers, and two more of shredded papers (like bank statements.) I threw out every college tuition bill (which I still had, even though they've both graduated) and the year's worth of Amazon receipts. (Why do I keep those?) I filed things I still needed to keep where I could find them. What a concept.

Vindication was swift. When I talked to the Sibs this afternoon, she asked me if I had renewed our shared C0stco membership. And I reached right down into the file drawer and pulled it out and gave her the date. I am a god. (A minor household god, but a god nevertheless.)

During the first few hours of doing this, I had The Bob Newhart Show Season 3 running, so that was excellent. After K left for work, I remembered that I had the first disc of Project Runway Season 1, so I popped that in. I'm not too focused on it though, although it isn't bad background. Bob was better, of course, because I really didn't have to pay too much attention, having seen that all before. But this is fine.

At 6:00, I finished everything, including the medical files and all the shredding. Only then did I remember that I hadn't eaten since breakfast and I hadn't done my laundry, a necessary Saturday task since the Hubs' does his on Sunday -- yes, my husband does his own laundry and cooking, but remember, he snores -- and R is coming over tomorrow to do hers as well. Okay, I did have a piece of pie just before I started the project, which turned out to be cherry pie, actually, in a box marked strawberry. I wasn't too bummed, though, since I had been deciding between the cherry and the strawberry anyway. I like cherry pie.

My desk, meanwhile, is just unbelievably uncluttered and neat, since I filed all kinds of stuff from the desktop too. All I have left (in papers, anyway, I've got other crap on it) is current bills to be paid, the pages I printed out about new hearing aids, and the little booklets for my new make-up. What was obsession for those first few weeks has mellowed nicely into routine, but this make-up line is going to be featured on QVC on Monday, so I've got a list of what I have and all the prices so I'll know what's a good deal or not. Okay, perhaps I spoke too soon about the mellowing of the obsession, but hey, a girl needs a hobby. And I'm not getting more, as such; I'm not branching out into eyeshadow or lip color, neither of which I wear at all, just looking for good prices on stuff I'm going to need to replace anyway when it's used up. Really. Pinky swear.

I also checked to make sure that I have all the documents I need to go and get my driver's license renewed on Wednesday, because they need all sorts of proof that I am neither a terrorist nor an illegal immigrant. Presumably, I have what I need because I have a passport, but I think they would not accept my birth certificate if that's all I had. It doesn't have an official seal of any kind on it, which they seem to want, although it's the only copy I've ever had and everybody else has taken it. I have a New York City birth certificate, copies of which were made as negative photostats, so it's white writing on a black background. It lists my parents' full names -- my mother by her maiden name -- and their addresses, "color or race" -- that's a good one -- ages, and occupations. My kids have always found this peculiar in many respects, since theirs, and all other New Jersey b.c.'s I've seen, look like cute little yellow diplomas with blue printing, including the seals, and only list the baby's name, birthdate, and birthplace. Maybe I'll see if I can get an official copy from the city, although what for I have no idea. If I've never needed it until now, I never will. I guess that when you die they just assume that you were at some time born, yes? I also found my social security card, the one I had issued after I was married with my married name, so not the original, which vanished sometime in the early seventies.

So, I'm good. I had an unbelievably productive day. Go me.


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