foot doctor doom

Trish has another appointment with the foot doctor today. Yesterday Car-girl (Trish is still afraid of parking lots) gave us a ride to the Invisible Clinic. The doctor found some moisture on her foot, bandaged it (but allowed her to wear her shoe & sock) & told her that she may need to take some more time off from work. Now she's saying she wants to do housework but not her job, but I'm making damn sure if she takes time off from work she stays in the recliner watching the Buffster kick ass. If she's well enough to do household chores she's well enough to work. She complained yesterday & this morning that her foot hurt. Although the doctor prescribed some pain pills, she can't take them at work (drowsiness).

We stopped by the bank on the way home, for weekend money. Trish hopped into her trusty bat-mobile & drove off to work before I picked up her pain pills. I took a Xanax as the night before I'd woke up at 4:00 & I was having some anxiety about Trish & fuck Scientology & Karen Relationships. This relaxed me enough to go to the fair with Car-girl, who read my Thing from Bill Warren, who probably hates me because I have a mental illness. Car-girl agreed that it was a lawsuit waiting to happen, but all that needs to be done is to use the word replace key in order to take out the references to the motorcycle company & the allusions to Harlan Ellison's work -- whom I'm less concerned with than the bike guys; I don't mind insulting him as he was rude to me & in general is a glorified hack, awards or no awards.

Trish's car was parked outside when Car-girl & I came back with the laundry. While we were listening to our special friend (music) the Amazon.com guy showed up with a magnifying lamp, that Bob Richards had sent. It still doesn't help me read; maybe after I get the new bifocal... I called him up & discussed Jung for awhile, as I'm trying to reread P&A in order to write Noc-Lar.