Ed and I have been fighting flu symptoms all week. I haven’t been walking. I did a bike ride and came home in a relapsed state, so I am not doing that any more for a while since I’d like to kick this thing.

I called my internist’s office for a prescription for effexor, a drug that Red Impala said would solve my after-estrogen problems. The factotum said I’d have to see the nurse and wanted to make an appointment for me to come in. I said I had just had a session with the doctor and thought this was overkill. I also explained to her that my recent surgery plus hospitalization for the other thing had already sent my insurance claims through the roof and couldn’t she please do something about pushing through this request without a visit.

So, for a wonder, she did. And called back in the afternoon to tell me they had phoned in a prescription to the pharmacy. I’ll have to ask them for a back-up paper prescription to send in to the mail-order outfit I deal with since the price at the local Publix pharmacy was almost $90 for 30 pills and that was a discount after deducting insurance. I truly feel sorry for people who don’t have any insurance or nest egg to see them through times like this.

Anyway, I’ve got the med. I am planning to take it tomorrow morning with my toast since I don't trust any pill on an empty stomach.

Then I made dinner, not feeling at all like doing it, and wondering if the nest egg would support a live-in cook. I discussed it with Brunswick and he meowed he thought not. Maybe Ed would go for it if the cook was a hottie tall Nordic blonde. With an accent -- that always gets 'em. It’s a thought.

I did buy stuff to make Fredo’s applewalnut bread. Maybe I will do it tomorrow.

xx, Teal