They’re back: When I first moved here, I found that spring and autumn brought out something I was later told were ‘water bugs’ and that they were harmless. Sorry, I know that insects have some necessary reason to exist, but I don’t like them…. from the smallest gnat and up. Water bugs are uglier than ugly and come from the roach family. I went to the local hardware store to look for something to help kill them. While they may be from the roach family, roach traps didn’t help. Bug sprays killed them if I drowned the suckers in it, but it didn’t keep them away. When the neighbor upstairs started getting them too, the landlord had someone come out and spray around the outside borders of the building. I bought one of those pest repellants that you plug in, which stays plugged in 365 days a year. This spring, they seem to be returning en masse. The first two I found, one each day, were already dead or almost dead, lying on their backs. I scooped them up on my trusty flyswatter and flushed them down the toilet. The third day, I found one sitting just as proud as can be on the floor. I stomped that bugger hard and it also got flushed. The next day, I found one inside my bathroom trash can. Luckily for me, it was empty of trash so I just turned it upside down over the toilet, shook it until the bug fell into the bowl and flushed. Now I’m going to go another season unwilling to walk anywhere without sturdy shoes on my feet so I can squish them!
They’re here: I forget from year to year how much I like malted milk balls until Robin Eggs come out as part of the Easter candy line-up. I stumbled across them in a big-box store and grabbed two bags. I had plans to make small Easter baskets for my five neighbors in my building, and thought they’d be a great addition to what I’d already pulled together. And they would have been…. if they hadn’t gotten consumed by me before it was time to put together the baskets. No problem, though – I found some at my grocery store and picked them up as a replacement. They didn’t last until it was time to put the baskets together, either. Fortunately, I had plenty of goodies for the baskets and no one but me (and now you) knows that something was missing. I decided to go out to the big-box store when it opened the day after Easter to see if I could score more Robin Eggs, determined I was buying all they had whether they had been marked down or not. All of the Easter candy had been removed from the section where it had been displayed and I didn’t find it anywhere else in the store. Again, no problem – I’d go to the grocery store and get more. The employee was putting all of the leftover candy on a table up front marked at 50% off, but there were no Robin eggs! He said they’d sold out of them before Easter!
What’s a girl to do? Come home and go onto the Amazon web site, of course! (DUH!). Plenty of options there. I looked at ounces versus cost. In the end – DON’T JUDGE ME HERE! – I ended up buying a bulk package of 5 pounds of Robin eggs! When it comes to things to snack on, I go through spells – I buy something and then end up losing my desire for it and giving what I don’t eat away. I’ve chomped down at least a pound of these things already, so I don’t know if that’s going to happen here! Meanwhile, my mouth is a happy camper noshing away!
It won’t go away: I thought I was on my way to making the final decision about Medicare. I looked at every single plan my advisor said I was eligible for, and narrowed it down to just two. During my conversation with him over those two, I chose one. Unfortunately, it was a small company, one that only serves customers in my state, and one he doesn’t work with. So, he gave me the web site link and wished me luck. First red flag – the web site was as plain and simple as could be, offering only the phone numbers for Medicare and Medicaid with which to sign up. (In other words, no agents working on their behalf.) I’ve always preferred to work one-on-one whenever possible, because I’ve dealt with customer service stuff where I call, talk to a person, get information, call back, talk to another person, tell them that person #1 said such-and-such, and get an apology that person #1 was incorrect and what person #2 is telling me is the correct information. That’s the same reason I don’t go to big hair and/or nail salons – I want the same person to work with me each time so that they know what I want/need without having to guess and not give me what I want/need.
I decided to look at my original option #2 for Medicare plan B, and thought I’d also look at its web site ahead of time. Well, as it turns out, the web site tells me different information about premiums, co-pays, etc. than what the material my advisor sent to me has. So, now I’ve had to set up yet another phone appointment (my advisor does work with this company, at least) to discuss this. Meanwhile, I feel like I’m starting back at the beginning…
What makes it worse: My Medicare advisor asked me when we first started working together about using Zoom to interact. I told him that my technology understanding was nothing more than an engine sputtering and stuck in first gear, and that I had no idea how to make it go zoom. Now, with this latest situation, he wants our next meeting to be done via Zoom so he can get someone on the line with us from the actual insurance company to answer my questions.
First off, I always despise being in front of a camera at any time (I get sweaty palms just having my driver’s license photo taken!). Secondly, I’ve heard my voice recorded and how other people hear it, and it sounds so much worse than how I hear it inside my head. Third, I don’t know how much the camera will capture of my surroundings, so I feel like the entire area around me should be neat and clean and tidy. All of that is in addition to my having to study tutorials on how to actually use this thing called Zoom and hope I don’t look more stupid than I feel about it when the time comes!
Can’t stop the clock: And, of course, on top of all of this, I can’t stop the clock from ticking away the seconds and the minutes to push me closer to that number 65 in chronological age.
Now that I’m saddened by recounting all of this again, I think I’ll go stuff my mouth with some Robin eggs!