I have a few thoughts on my noodle today, things I just don't get.
Older kids and public restrooms
Yesterday, as I was walking out of the stall in a hospital restroom, I saw a boy who appeared to be 9- or 10-years old at the sink with a woman. I tried not to stare, and if I had been feeling better, I may have made some off-handed comment. I really, really wanted to know the woman's reasoning behind bringing a boy that old into a woman's restroom. What does she think would happen if she allowed him to go into the men's restroom while she waited outside? Most boys I know don't even wash their hands, so he probably would have been in there for only two or three minutes...
Hospitals and communications
I spent about 10 hours at the hospital today, probably about 6 hours more than I needed to. I hung out with my dad until he went into surgery around 9:40 a.m.. The woman in the waiting room told me he would probably be done in 1 to 1.5 hours, the doctor would talk to me after the surgery, and she handed me one of those vibrating/light-up things that you get while waiting at some restaurants to alert me when the doctor was ready for me. Just after 11:30 a.m. and no vibrations/light-ups later, I checked at the desk since almost two hours had gone by. The woman there said my dad was out of surgery and the doc would see me soon. I asked if soon meant 10 minutes, she said more like 30. About 45 minutes later, I checked in again, and the woman said it was unusual that he had not come down yet. So I again waited around. About 45 minutes after that, my buzzer finally lit up, but it was the recovery room calling. I ended up getting to see my somewhat loopy dad for about 25 minutes there before heading back down to the waiting room and asking about the doc. The woman said I had just missed him, that she had called my name. I asked why she did not buzz me, you know cause isn't that the point of those silly things. She said she did not have time. Argh.
So I continued to wait around, for fear I would miss the doc. Over an hour later, my buzzer lit up, and this time the woman at the desk said my dad had a room, but I should wait about 10 to 15 minutes for him to get there. At this point, she said the doctor would just call my cell. About 30 minutes later, after I had used the restroom (no boys!), gathered my dad's things from a locker, walked forever to his car to get his bag, and got lost twice, I finally arrived to his empty room. About 45 minutes after that, he finally got there. While they were settling him into his room, the doc called my cell phone. Here is what he said, "The surgery went as expected. Everything was fine. Okay?" I waited 5.5 hours to hear that?! At least it was good news...
The Post Office
I find it hard to feel sorry for the post office when we have such issues with them. About three to four times a month we do not receive our mail or we receive it late, and that is just mail I know about, mostly things like circulars (I like to plan my grocery trip around sales, which I cannot do if I don't have the papers). In fact, on a day when we are to receive only the grocery circulars or the weekly community paper, the mail carrier sometimes won't even bother to come to our house. He may come the next day with it, or he just may skip it altogether. A few times a month we also get our neighbors' mail, and probably a half dozen or more times a year we receive mail from four or five streets over. And at least once or twice a year, we get mail from 12 miles away and a river over, the same street name but a different house number and a zip code that is not even close. At least once, someone in that community got our mail, which happened to be a $200 check. Thank goodness the woman called me to tell me she had my check and was mailing it to me.
I have called and visited the local PO to complain, to little or no avail. One Saturday I questioned why I was not getting our Thursday community paper, and the woman at the PO said they actually have until Friday to get it to us. I pointed out that it was Saturday, and it still had not come, and it was not the first, second or third time this happened. I am pretty sure our house is on some bad list...
Good times. Good times!