This Was the Species that Was

SO! The new Westell modem I ordered from Verizon arrived practically instantaneously. The old one was seriously fucked: with increasing frequency, it would just stop transmitting in either direction for 20, 30, 45 seconds at a time. I called V. on Thursday and the new modem was waiting for me when I got home Friday night. Set it up, ran install, had Internet in <5 minutes. Incredible. Almost makes me want to take back one mildly nasty thing I've said about Verizon. But not quite.

Also Friday night I Metroed from work to Montgomery Mall to buy a new canister vacuum cleaner at Sears. It's purdy. And it works, which is quite a step up from my old canister vacuum cleaner.

The Cheese Lord concert went well Saturday night ( and on and on and on... )

... have been exaggerated at least a little tiny bit. As I told maestro_live earlier today, there must be some kinda law of conservation of SUCK, because I actually had a number of splendid things happen to me today. Ok, sure, I did hobble between 2 and 3 miles around the city putting pressure only on the ball of my right foot, which (a) made a particular set of calf and foot muscles very unhappy and shaky and (b) ended up causing some pretty nasty twinges in my metatarsals. But. But! I went first to the Verizon service store on K Street to get my phone fixed, and... and... wait for it... I GOT MY PHONE FIXED. Well, to be accurate I got a brand new phone of the same model, paid nothing thanks to the insurance on the account (again, thanks, maestro), was given no hassle whatsoever by any Verizon employee, and was in and out of the store in less than 10 minutes. Frankly, I'm still wavering on calling the Vatican to alert the pontifical posse to a miracle way more astoundishing than some damn Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese sandwich. (I saw that sandwich and it was a sucky likeness. Looked like the Virgin Murray.)

Ok so then I hobble to the doctor's office and somehow my lame-ass doc of the past decade does NOT see me; a new doc does. Rosetti or Roselli or something. Isabella Rossellini, that was it. Ok, not. Dude looks 30ish, is reasonably adorable, and didn't do anything in our 7-minute exam and interview to lead me to believe he's a terrible physician like my previous (can I say previous? I believe I JUST DID, moohahaha!) doc was. He inspected my heel and pronounced it healthy (if damaged): no swelling, redness, or heat: ergo, no infection. The dark discoloration and pain are because I tore and bruised some muscle. Which sucks, but not as much as my nightmare scenario of the doc having to lance the whole thing open to clean it, or sending me to a hospital for same. A couple more days' pain, he says, and I should be fine. The nurse gave me a tetanus shot and a Snoopy Band-Aid and I was on my way.

Oh, but before the exam is over I tell the doc that Dr. Pachycephalosaurus had given me three different ED drug samples on my last visit and I ask for a script. He calls in a script for Viagra. And the last amazing, wonderful thing that happened today (NOTE: the day's not over) was finding out that my health insurance actually covers Viagra. It's a high co-pay, to be sure, but I'm only paying about half the total.

Damn. All this good stuff makes me almost not a grumpy asshole.
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Addendum: John Rosselli is a Certified Family Nurse Practitioner, not a doc proper.