There Are Days...

Wednesday, a gorgeous day in Little Rhody. Felt like summer, so The Missus Herself took pity on your half-blind correspondent and took me down to The Island, as the inhabitants call it. What is known as Aquidneck Island to some and officially is known as Rhode Island. Yup, the common name for Little Rhody is actually just one part of the state.

Can anyone tell me the official name, without Googling, Binging, or otherwise looking it up?

C'mon folks, we covered this in a previous post. Okay, so it was one post among many over the past six years, or maybe it was more than one post. I dunno, I'm old, I tend to repeat my stories kinda hoping that no one notices, or if they do, they're polite enough not to mention it.

Anyhoo.

It was cash we were after, filthy lucre. Because a fellow likes to have a few bucks in his pocket, something that clinks (or at least folds and has pictures of historical old guys). For you see, the other day The Missus Herself and I went out and stopped at a local eatery for to consume something tasty, something Southwestern if you will.

Lately a new eatery (well, new to us) has appeared in my AO which we used to frequent when The Nuke and The WSO were stationed in the Norfolk/Virginia Beach area. A little burrito and other tasty stuff chain known as Moe's Southwest Grill. Yeah, yeah, I know, it's a chain, probably ain't authentic but your dear Sarge does not care. For I am absolutely addicted to their burritos, and quesadillas and, and...

Anyhoo. We went there to eat. When we got to the register, I pulled out Monsieur Wallet only to discover that instead of a fat wad of twenties gracing the leather interior of my wallet, there was just a bunch of ones. Less than ten as I recall. Damn.

Paid with plastic, but felt somewhat put out about my lack of cash and just when did I spend that? Oh yeah, last week when the lawn mowing chaps came to manicure the grounds, er, cut the grass, here at Chez Sarge.

That deficiency being rectified, after a lovely little drive down to my place of employment for the drive that was in it and having an ATM which is nearly always functional. Yes, I could have gone to a local place, paid their bloody fee, and gotten cash that way. Yes, I know the gasoline we expended probably cost more than the bloody ATM fee but I figured burning fuel would probably piss off Algore, if he knew about it, the fat slug, anyone have his email, let him know that the Sarge burned fuel today. Just for the Hell of it!

And I use plastic straws too! I'm a rebel I tell you.

Anyhoo. It was a supremely lovely day, aching eye and all. (Oh yes, Precious, it aches. I'm told that's a sign of healing, or something. I think it just gets tired.)

I also talked to the disability insurance folks when we returned home from our little journey. When we got back to the palace, I heard the beep of the landline's answering machine. A very garbled message was there (I think we need to get a new phone and dammit, I told them to call the cell phone) a name was left, "This is sounds like Anne on the recording was Pam in actuality at six clear digits followed by a lot of hissing and popping and three more clear digits please call me back more hissing and popping."

I tried various combinations of the last four numbers that I thought I had heard and each time received the "That number is not in service" message. Now on one of the attempts I noticed that the lady (a supervisor, I think I told that story before, I'll have to check, POCIR) I had dealt with three years ago for a previous surgery had the same six digits as those I had gleaned from the message. (I discerned that because my phone kept suggesting her number as the one to call. I had her saved on my phone.)

So I called her, figuring that as she worked at the same place as "sounds like Anne", I could perhaps connect to her that way. Well, the very nice lady, checked her computer and said that "actually Pam, not Anne" had indeed called me earlier. But, as "actually Pam, not Anne" had left for the day (it was almost 5 PM), the very nice supervisor lady said she could get the information that was needed and would let "actually Pam, not Anne" know that I had indeed called back.

So today (as you read, tomorrow as I write) it's back to the ophthalmologist once more for to have oculus sinister examined again. I had told the nice lady that I had hoped I would be back at work next week, as I have things to do (which really only I can do, without disrupting the flow of the universe of course). The nice lady, knowing the procedure I had undergone and ya know they have charts for these things, chuckled and said...

"The doctor is not going to tell you that you can return to work next week. But if he does, I'll be surprised."

Ah who knows, the bubble in my eye continues to recede (which is really weird as now I can see around it, and through it after a fashion). My vision in that eye is returning though is still rather fuzzy. We shall see, we shall see. (At least I bloody hope so.)

When I know, you'll know. Well, you'll know the day after I know. It's what I do, I share.

It was really such a lovely day...

More to follow.

Be seeing you.