Sick again. AGAIN!

I don’t understand what’s happening here — I’ve been sick so many times in the last 3 months that I’m on the verge of… of…

Well, I guess I’m not on any verges. I am a little frustrated, though, because it’s not just nose/throat stuff — it’s brain/body stuff, too. My whole body — aw, geez, now I’m typing with my eyes closed because they started hurting; that’s a first — my whole body is achey and it’s hard to concentrate.

Eyes back open. Hey, no typos! Hurray for touch-typing.

I’m either gonna go to sleep, or brace myself to tell my brain that these sick feelings are minor and ignorable, and plow through work for a while. Well, I also might dink around here for a bit before crashing, or else I might play some Wii… but boy, sleep sounds good.

Eating more veggies

I discovered the way to get more veggies in my diet!

Make ’em taste like MEAT!

THAT’S why they put carrots and such in stew — they taste BETTER! We made a big pot roast and cut a buncha carrots into it, and they’re so much yummier than any other carrots.

From now on, I’m gonna see about cooking veggies with beef bouillon.

Frickin’ Leg Jitters — Restless Leg Syndrome

So, I’m lying in bed, right? And I’m sleepy, and I’m pretty comfy, and everything is conducive to conking out — except my damn legs. Rebecca and I call it “the jitters”, though I’m pretty confident what we’re talking about is Restless Leg Syndrome.

I keep getting pulled back out of sleep by the nagging sensation in my legs. They’re still bugging me now, as I type — it’s a tickly, irritating feeling. Imagine, as a comparison, drifting off to sleep, only to be awakened by a soft voice saying “Meeky meeky!” Then the voice goes silent, and you fall back asleep a few moments later, at which point it pipes up again. “Meeky? Meeky!”

(I don’t know why the voice says “meeky” in this example. But then, I don’t know what causes restless legs, either. Nor do doctors.)

There are some ideas for things that might help. I tried stretching to no avail — and now I’ve read that my particular flavor of RLS is identified by my varicose veins, so maybe I should, you know, stop having those. (There’s some discoloration in my legs that the doctor said is actually RUST — iron getting oxidized as a result of my varicose veins, or something like that. So, I’m rusting.)

Something they didn’t suggest that I thought of on my own: amputation. Considering how sedentary my lifestyle is, I don’t think I’d have many adverse effects. It would make driving a bit trickier, especially with my standard transmission, but I figure I’d still be as good as most Utah drivers.

(Have you noticed, by the way, that every state in the union is criticized for having the worst drivers? I don’t know of any place I’ve ever been where I felt surrounded by intelligent, turn-signal using, considerate drivers. But I can say this: Florida has the worst drivers. May my beloved Grandmother rest in peace as I say this, but sitting shotgun beside a 4’11” octogenarian was terrifying, and I know there are plenty more like here in the Sunshine State.)

(Florida’s motto: Come here for the sunshine, stay here because you died.)

No, seriously, WRONG target market

I just got a big envelope inviting me to join a gay and lesbian book club.

I’m trying to figure out who might’ve put me on that mailing list as a joke, or if, perhaps, they’re sending this stuff out blindly.

If you were sending gay ads out blindly, would you waste any money on Utah? or Idaho? or anywhere in the Bible Belt, for that matter?

I think if it had been a joke the addressee would’ve been “Randy Barnes & Noble Tayler” or somesuch, but instead it was Mr. Randall Tayler.

Just weird.

Just ribbin’ ya

I woke up shortly before 3:00 AM — can’t really figure out why — but I haven’t been able to fall back asleep. I think the most likely culprit is the searing pain in my side and back.

“Searing” isn’t the right adjective, but it was the funniest. In truth, it hurts more like… like a really bad owie, I guess.

Anyway, I see a doctor finally tomorrow at 10:30. If nothing else he/she should be able to provide me a prescription that will make me forget all about broken ribs as I sleep. Thorgetitol, or something. (Get it? Thor = thoracic cavity, orgetitol = forget it all. HA! I’m awesomely funny. Just like when I fell down on stage and got this injury.)

I’ll think I’ll have a 4:00 AM Pop-Tart. I think that’s supposed to help rib pain.

Savings Vs. Paying Off Mortgage Early

I’m facing a financial decision that will affect my long-term wealth.

The problem here is that I hate thinking long-term. For whatever reason, I still believe that I’m going to be making big money — like, “My, what a lovely number of zeroes in that paycheck” — any year now. Why waste money saving when I can be spending it on my fantastic business ideas? Or Panda Express?

Here’s the issue: we’re building our budget for 2007. We’ve written down what all our bills come out to, and we believe in the importance of paying yourself first — putting away 10% of your earnings for rainy days (or, preferrably, sunny days in retirement).

But does it make much sense to save money in some piddly 1% interest savings account when I’m paying more than 8% on my second mortgage?

The answer is no. And yes.

I know I need savings. I want to have 6 months’ of current lifestyle saved up so that when I lose my job — perhaps for posting to my LiveJournal when I should be working, for example — I can have some time to find a GOOD job, rather than being panic-stricken and taken the next thing I find, which in my case would be shoveling HTML into a big furnace, and coming home smelling like script.

But how likely is that scenario? And is 6 months really necessary? It’s banking a bit pessimistically, if you ask me.

I’m more of a bull-market guy. I’m not so bullish that I’m going to try to put the savings towards stocks and such, in hopes of generating more than the 8% I’m paying for the mortgage (see Missed Fortune), but I’m not such a bear that I’m gonna take my cash and shove it under my bank’s mattress.

Perhaps, though, in the interest of saving for emergencies, I could put some into savings and some into paying off my mortgage early.

If I didn’t already have a lot stashed away — and I’m no saver, I just had some windfalls last year — I think I’d lean towards that plan. As it is, I think I’ll try to put the cash towards the mortgage, rather than savings. I have several months’ salary in the bank; paying off my mortgage really will mean saving a ton of money in the long run.

If I never change my loan or my additional payment amount, I can pay off my 2nd mortgage in 7 years rather than 30. After that I refuse to say — we’ll probably have moved, but we’ll have at least refinanced. (I’m in a 7-yr ARM right now.)

“Saving for retirement” is an ugly, ugly phrase to me. But it helps to see that I wasn’t a millionaire by age 25, and I’m still not a millionaire at age 32, so I better stop planning on having it by 40. Hoping for it, sure. Working on it, of course. Planning on it? Bad idea.

Rib I Mistake

I was performing at ComedySportz on Saturday, and as part of my entrance to the stage (in the first of the evening’s two shows) I decided a pratfall would be funny.

This was a complete failure on the part of my brain.

I was leaning sideways away from another player, our bodies frozen solid for a moment, and when our grip was released I could’ve just stood, or I could’ve fallen less dramatically, but no. I decided what would be funniest would be to fall, body still frozen. This meant collapsing on my left arm, which decided to avoid breaking itself by shifting all the momentum into my ribcage.

When I started doing improv comedy, I was 18 years old, and 50 pounds lighter. In those days I probably could’ve handled the sudden application of all my body’s weight into a sudden blow to the side of my torso. Well, maybe.

In any case, I didn’t hear any loud crack or such, but the following 4 hours were quite unpleasant, ribcage-wise. My left side hurts not unlike the dickens — and getting to sleep proved quite difficult as well. If I press on my sternum, I can feel the pain in my ribs, which is about as amusing as it sounds.

It hurts pretty much nonstop, but there are no signs of bruising. I do want to see a doctor — if I have a broken bone, I want to know about it, even if they can’t do anything. (Though they could maybe prescribe pain medication.) I mean, the story is so vague and incomplete without knowing if the bone is broken or not. “I broke my rib and went on to play two ComedySportz shows” is a better story than “I got hurt real bad and went on to play two ComedySportz shows.”