Stormy Sunday with torrential rain, hail and rainbows. Oh, and wind. I drove through a puddle on the way to dance that I thought would be up to my car doors, giant splooshes on either side of the car.
On a day like this, I wish for all the homeless to have shelter and warmth. Dry socks. Hot chocolate.
Medicare and I are, apparently, best friends. They have sent me voluminous mail already. First they sent my premium, which I paid right away. Then they sent three letters informing me that I make more money than the 'no additional fee' people. And then they quoted me what my additional payments will be. There are a variety of amounts. $223.00. $104.00. Etc. These are for parts of Medicare because there are four parts. Part A, Part B, Part C (don't know what this actually is) and Part D, which is the prescription drug part. Woe betide you if you don't sign up for Part D initially and then need it later. You will be penalized. How's that for compassionate care?
I currently take no prescription drugs but one day I might. Who knows.
I read through their letters and I wonder how well others do with their nonsensical messages. I can read. I have glasses. I have my wits about me, more or less. I have a college degree. I have a computer where I can look things up. I went to s seminar where I presumably learned how to decipher all of the above. It's bullshit, I tell you. I am reminded of the room full of monkeys sitting at typewriters pecking away in the hopes that the next GAN (great American Novel) would be written by serendipity. And monkeys.
They have been sent to work for the government.
I'm giving all the mail to my bookkeeper. She is a sly genius and I have used her for all sorts of things. She could be an advice columnist. At least she understands the ways of finance in my tiny midwifery world. Perhaps she can understand what the hell I'm being told to do. What do I owe, exactly?
And again, what about my neighbors around me who speak limited English? Who understand less about the benefits they are entitled to? The old man next door will be cared for by his son and daughter-in-law forever because that's how they roll in the Philippines. But the Vietnamese and Chinese who live farther down the street? What about them?
In the meantime, the Seahawks are losing in the playoffs and I could care less. I learned today that the broadcasts are about 2 hours but actual real play with real players running around and throwing the ball is 11 minutes.
Time for the Felix to have his outing. He's not half muddy enough and it's thundering out there. Now there are fireworks going on. Maybe the Hawks won after all. Sheesh.
Bless you, Casey, for all your work in the Sudan. Be well and be safe.