Thumb sucking

Untitled_5943I have severe writer’s block. Severe. It’s pissing me off that some idiot person thought it would be a good idea to write a novel this month. Because it.is.not. Clearly, my defiant streak flashes and flares when someone says I have to do something. Like a stubborn two year old, I scrunch down and refuse to budge. In this instance, my fingers have refused to tap.

The good news is that in the past week I have completed numerous tasks that same witch person assigned me weeks/months/years ago. Because I will do ANYTHING but the task at hand.

I cleaned out the freezer and found a chunk of glacier pork loin dated 02/12/1998.Which was all the more curious because that was 3 months before I moved into this house and 2 years before I bought this refrigerator.

Medicine_cabinetI cleaned out the medicine cabinet and threw out everybody’s toothbrush and then went and bought new ones. I threw out expired prescriptions for narcotic strength pain relief (one gone, from when Abby had her 4 wisdom teeth extracted), sea sickness (one gone, from when we went to Alaska), steroids (one gone, from when I had an allergic reaction), anti-depressants (none gone, from when I thought Abby wasn’t filling out her college applications because she was depressed), more anti-depressants (none gone, from when I got depressed because Abby wouldn’t fill out her college applications) and diuretics (one gone, from when I went to Belize). I had been saving all these for the next time one or the other of us came down with an excruciating rash that caused fluid retention, nausea and severe feelings of social anxiety but after a little thought I realized that person would just take one of something anyway. We’re not really big on medicine. We are big on plants and there are so many of them some have to winter in the shower.

I cleaned out the cabinets under the bathroom sinks and donated almost 200 little bottles and bars of fancy hotel soap and shampoos to the homeless shelter.

I sorted through every single article of clothing in this house and donated 5 giant bags to the Thrift Shop. Actually those are still in my trunk because the hours are odd at the Thrift Shop.

I cleaned my file cabinet and threw out bank statements from 10 years ago. I also thought I could let go of the FOC order granting me enough money to raise a hamster (as opposed to two children). Now that they are theoretically raised.

And horrors- I did billing. Most therapists bill once a month. When you go in for your last appointment of the month they have a neatly typed statement that they hand you and expect you to pay then and there. Or at your very next appointment at the very latest. I don’t bill well. Never have. One time I went to see a therapist about my inability to bill for my services. He billed me right away.

Only two things drive me to bill someone: I run out of food for the hamster children. Someone is forcing me to write a novel. Basically, I live at the whim of my client’s consciences. This is risky, since a few have absolutely no conscience but usually I have a fair number who just start to intuit that they should pay me some approximation of what they owe, voluntarily, sans bill. Especially since I reduce everybody’s fee. As I write this I realize that all these years I’ve been thinking I have so many clients because I’m a good therapist but in actual fact it’s probably because word has gotten ’round.

What I really hate is insurance billing. Most therapists won’t bill your insurance company for you. That’s because it’s such a crap shoot. I can fill out papers for hours and 70% go immediately from the post office into a black hole of lost insurance claims. 25% of the remainder are denied because some nincompoop misreads the diagnosis code that I put in and writes me a note saying that heart-lung bypass is not a covered service by someone of my specialty. The final 5% get divided in half, less a giant deductible and I get paid enough to buy hamster food.

ChairAnyway,that’s what I did this last week while I steered clear of the computer.And I also knit Rich a sweater which is the size of a tool shed (I’ll have him model it for you when he returns from St. Louis. It weighs 11 pounds). And I improved my work space which was already very nice because it’s part sunroom. By going once to the local NaNoWriMo meeting I got that lovely red sticker that is now- dammit- permanently adhered to the cover of my laptop. I told McCloud and Sophie (tucked down on the market bag/cat bed I knit) to get to that NaNoWriMo thing before the she-wolf ,no, monster super-ego, person who thought it would be a good idea to write a novel returns but, as you can see, they’re not so dumb.

My last post generated some interesting and wonderful comments- post worthy. So if my fingers keep going I’ll take those up tomorrow. Now I’m coming to say hello and see if you have your novel finished.

 

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12 responses to “Thumb sucking

  1. Thank you for posting. Now I can go about my morning! I bow to your novel-writing capabilities!!

    You shower with plants? The hours aren’t the only odd thing about thrift shops, in my experience. Rich is wise to model with his clothes on, oui?

  2. I thought something was terribly wrong and you were dealing with a huge family crisis. Now I find out you have been in hiding because of NaNo. Why do I find that so damn funny? I am happy you have graced us with your presence. Please don’t go away again. BTW, I am stuck today. No words so far. Nada. Zip. Zilch. Zero.

  3. It took me longer to figure out insurance billing than it did to go to college, medical school and residency. I am the ICD9 coding queen however. I thought you had just been so inspired that the words were tumbling out, at least until I visited the novel site and checked. Then I thought you might have run away from home, without the rest of us. Glad you’re back. Where is that baby?

  4. “One time I went to see a therapist about my inability to bill for my services. He billed me right away.”

    Funny, funny line, Vicki! Glad you are back; I was envisioning you dead in a water-filled ditch somewhere, so it is good you have come back. You have, haven’t you?

  5. Oh my gosh, Bonnie, this post made me laugh or smile at least 12 times. You HAVE to stop knitting sweaters and get on that laptop to NaNoMoWri. Just turn this post into a chapter some way and then keep making us laugh.

    Don’t give up.

  6. Oh my gosh, Bonnie, this post made me laugh or smile at least 12 times. You HAVE to stop knitting sweaters and get on that laptop to NaNoMoWri. Just turn this post into a chapter some way and then keep making us laugh.

    Don’t give up.

  7. I have figured out that all I need to do is retype 2/3 of the posts I have done since I started b**gging, and I will have 50,000 words. I am calling it “The Little Book of Vignettes That Are Better Than Everything You Learned in Kindergarten Because I Use More Swear Words.” (Shortned to: “Mark Twain, He Ain’t.”)

  8. Heck, I forgot: I am very proud of all that you HAVE done. Worth a novel, easy.

  9. Not sure which is braver – tackling NaNo or tackling all the things you did. Either way, it made for a fun read. Good luck with the novel!

  10. Not sure which is braver – tackling NaNo or tackling all the things you did. Either way, it made for a fun read. Good luck with the novel!

  11. re: Pork chop glacier: surprise gift from Jack Frost?

    re: Medicine cabinet woes: lol. I know what you mean. every time I think I just might need a pill, the thing has been expired for a year or three.

    Could you buy some sort of software that would autobill taking from the appointment calendar so you don’t have to do it yourself?

  12. It’s amazing what you can get done when you are procrastinating because you don’t want to do something else. Maybe I should have signed up for NaNo.

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