It’s so you’ll *think* about it.

For a couple weeks now,  I’ve had this annoying thing going on in my left ear,  and this morning at about two, it finally woke me up out of a sound sleep.  This is where I draw the line when it comes to this paper bag crinkling every time I swallow or belch phenomenon, and like a fool,  I happened to mention it to Travelling Companion, who very quickly advised that I should “go see the Doctor!”

*sigh*

Um, this is why it’s usually best to keep these types of things to myself?

 

It’s not that I mind the poking and prodding.  They’re welcome to any number or quantity of bodily fluids that they may deem necessary for a prognosis.  All I really wanted in this case was for someone with a certain amount of experience or training,  to take a gander in my left ear and let me know what the hell is going on in there.  That’s all. 

I haven’t been traipsing around in the jungle, so I was reasonably sure it wasn’t any kind of bug or anything,  and it turns out it was/is some kind of blockage,  and there’s this spray I have to shove up my nose once a day for a time.  Swell.

This little snippet of information took me just about a half a day to find out…

 

Our regular Doc is presently on vacation, so there was some mention made of the “walk-in clinic” in the same building where he has his practise.  I wish they sold shares.  This “family health centre” type of place is a gold mine.  They got everything!  Massage therapy,  physio, X-Rays.  An eye place.  There’s even a pharmacy right on site.  Like I said,  a gold mine.

The only thing though is, it should be called a “walk in and wait clinic”.   My only concern was that my minor ailment might have cleared itself up by the time someone got to see me.  I totally understand the kid still in her gym uniform being taken there by Mom (Ace bandage and ice was all she needed)  but the young mothers taking their runny nosed little darlings in to be told what any mother should already know?   C’mon.  Even if you don’t have your own mother to ring up and ask,  there’s this thing called the internet.  Until you get to the ear infection stage,  my preference would be that you don’t bring your germ spreading little bugger into a crowded waiting area.   Which, by the way, is why I prefer to stand off by myself.  Call me paranoid,  but I haven’t had a head cold in four years.  Coincidently, that was right around the time I walked out of a school for the last time.  Curious thing how that works.

Not wishing to prolong my stay,  I didn’t visit their fine upstanding on-site pharmacy however.  Too busy.  We have a perfectly acceptable drug store just down the street from us, where I was greatly outnumbered by the staff.   Plus,  they had tooth paste on sale!  Can’t beat that with a stick!

 

So the “walk-in clinic” was free.  Just had to show my “health card”.  However, I’ll think long and hard before I head back in there.  Even if they had an assortment of decent magazines (and what professional office ever does?) I wouldn’t want to touch anything anyway. 

 

Now for something completely different:

This morning when I went to fetch the Merc out of the garage,  a broom fell against one of the sensors,  which meant that the stupid garage door refused to close again.  No big deal.  You can just unhook the thing and close it manually.  Had to get out of the car of course.  Such an effort.

So what am I doing here with the ladder and the impact driver?   Well, it has nothing to do with the sensors,  since they’re very easy to line up again.   I just noticed (for about the millionth time) that the opener is just a tad noisier than I’d like.   It’s not the most expensive one you can buy,  but just the same has operated reasonably reliably for just about twenty years now.  It owes us nothing.  We’ve gone through a few batteries and such,  but I make sure to lubricate whatever needs it at least once a year.  I guess it helps.

Over the last little while I’ve been going through the scads of little parts drawers I have and sorting and heaving out various bit of flotsam that I find,  and it just so happened that I had come across some grommets the other day,  and got this bright idea that maybe I could quiet the thing down a bit if it wasn’t bolted right to the rafters. 

In the final analysis, it did make a bit of a difference,  but of course,  my suspicions that it wasn’t going to be just a simple job were confirmed.  

 

See the little broken bolt?   Well,  the whole thing was put together with an impact driver,  so that was the tool of choice when trying to loosen a couple uncooperative nuts.  That one wasn’t going to loosen.  On the scale of hardness,  these guys aren’t even on the scale.  And it’s not like it’s an aircraft part or anything, so having hardened bolts isn’t really necessary. 

The only thing though was,  since I didn’t want to tighten the nuts right down on the grommets, thereby undoing all of the cushiony goodness that I was trying to build in,  I rummaged around until I found a couple longer bolts so that I could then put a couple extra nuts on each end. You tighten them against themselves so they don’t come undone.  Coming undone would be bad.

Pains me to say this,  but I was missing a couple nuts.  Never a good thing when a feller is missing a couple nuts.   OK,  let’s just stop that right here,  shall we?

Since Home Despot is the closest source of hardware,  that was my first choice.  I was able to find my nuts without having to involve any outside help. Usually the preferred method. Stupid things were almost sixty cents apiece.  I guess they were the good kind.

If I go out there and find a couple nuts that I had been missing up until now,  I’m going to be upset.  Just so you know.  This is why I’ll waste more time trying to find an item in with the junk,  rather than just capitulating and going to the store.  I just hate it when the missing item(s) miraculously appear right at that precise moment when I’m no longer looking for them.  It’s just some sort of law.

It’s probably how I lost most of my hair.

 

We’ll leave that for another day.  If ever.

 

Keep it between the ditches.

 

Thanks for lookin’.

 

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