The days of whine and moroses

Unless something drastically changes, we did not have much of a winter. A couple of minor snows and a handful of days with extreme temperatures. Great you say? Well, sorta.

Since we avoided prolonged below zero days, the natural rhythm of nature was interrupted. In the short run, great; in the long run, more bugs, for starters. Nature does have a way of balancing out.

I did my stint today to find a Medicare Medical advantage plan. I called the receptionist at Doc's office to ask her if she knew of any problems with company X (which was at the top of my picks). She told me about the difficulties and that the group of docs decided not to accept this company's medicare plans.

Whew. Close one. I asked if she knew anything about any of the others that my state says I can choose since I live in this county. I believe the government handout says the state allows only certain companies to sell in our state and specifically in my county. She mentioned a couple she has seen recently in the office.

One sounds pretty good. I talked to a rep, who did not pressure me. She asked about heart failure and I explained to her about PH. She said her sister and nephew had died from PH. The rest of the family undergoes gene tests. Small world, huh? I believe the company resides in Maryland.

The woman got my address to send me the info about the company's three plans. This seems like a good fit.

So progress. Yay! The worry about change gets me every time. I do not do change well at all. Of course, once I am forced to change and the honeymoon phase ends, I fall back into the comfort zone.

I glance around my apartment and wonder where I went wrong. None of my furniture matches, though I have a couple of nice pieces. The others are in the shabby but not chic category. I use a footlocker with 1960s black and white contact paper on the top as a coffee table. I painted it black enamel and the hinges and corner decorations gold. Inside, the original blue print remains, a bit fragile and torn in places.

I bought a bentwood rocker (dark wood, cane seat and back) in the late 1970s. No one sits in it -- ever. I have a library table with a hinged, drop leaf front. The veneer shows the ill treatment the desk received years before I retrieved it from a friend's garage.

The point of the previous paragraphs? To show that while I worked hard and loyally for more than 30 years, I have little to show. I have a tiny nestegg. Hopefully we both will run out about the same time.

Miss you, Dude.

Later.