Mad Mitzi (in more ways than one)

One of the few times I had to rant loudly at a teenage Heather, she began to laugh (which caused my voice to go up a few more decibels) because she said I looked like Ozzy Osborne when I was yelling at her. Granted I was wearing eye-make-up but not THAT much. I did have long dark hair at the time. And I have fewer tattoos and usually wear a shirt.

But lately my inner-Ozzy has come out. Maybe I'm under some stress, but my tolerance for stupidity has decreased greatly (if I ever had a tolerance).

Friday night I discovered that the doctor's office and then the pharmacist had made a mistake in the dose and frequency of a med that keeps me from having tetany - a terrible calcium deficiency that can kill. I called and yelled. Tomorrow will be the doctor's office nurse's turn. He had the script refilled by what he thought I'd said on a phone message and without checking my records or the faxed copy of the script from the pharmacy. What if I wasn't a nurse? What if I didn't know better?

Today at Barnes and Noble - I left books and magazines at a table to go back and put others away. I wanted to buy the ones I left. I had no jacket to leave to show that I was coming back - it's frigging 80 outside. At least I put my magazines away - but when I got back, the ones I wanted to buy were gone - almost back to the stacks. Well, it seems that they have a "directive from corporate" not to leave anything on the tables. Next time I'll leave a note when I get up from the table. Geeeeesh - I was gone less than a minute. Then the books I bought did not scan the discount price and that made me madder. The more the clerk tried to "make nice", the madder I got. "I know," he kept saying. Well, uh - no, you frigging DON'T know. None of the B&N clerks were concerned that they could have lost a large sale - guess they wouldn't be - B&N is so big and it's not their business, what's my little tuppence to them?

So I'm pissy and the pissiness will continue.

I hope I'm good and pissy by the time I get to one of my nursing homes this week. They caused a major problem and were very blase about it. While three thousand miles away, I'm standing on the fire escape outside of a surgical unit where Heather's having the melanoma removed, talking to my boss on my cell phone about that building and the resident who died.

Ozzy's back. Hide your bats and chickens!