The grout people have to come back today. Would anybody mind if I killed them?

In this post: Diabetes bargains, caulking cretins.

It’s almost 3:30 in the afternoon here and my Friday is finally beginning to take shape. Let me see if I can sum it all up for you, okay?

HUNGER. I haven’t eaten since breakfast but I don’t expect you to feel sorry for me or anything because I’ve got leftover egg foo young and one egg roll.

A LOW-CARB SHOPPING SPREE. My Friday afternoon shopping spree included the following essential products from Netrition.com. This is my first time trying Walden Farms’ zero-calorie Russian and thousand island dressings and I’m hoping they’re just as good as Walden Farms’ cole slaw goo. (Their cole slaw goo is OUTSTANDING.)

Dialysis ... what every diabetic wants for Hanukkah.

In this post: The Death Pill, Sausage McMuffins.

About yesterday. I tried like the devil to write a Howdygram post — and failed miserably — because I had so much excruciating pain in my legs I couldn’t even sit at my desk. Once again I’m positive it’s my cholesterol medication that’s doing this. For a couple of years two “killer” statin drugs — Atorvastatin and Pravastatin — caused the same problem, so Dr. M switched me to Fenofibric Acid about five months ago. Here at Howdygram headquarters, however, Fenofibric Acid is frequently referred to as THE DEATH PILL because I’ve developed all of the following side effects: 1) severe muscle pain and tenderness; 2) stiffness; 3) muscle weakness; 4) exhaustion; 5) joint pain; 6) unintentional weight gain (it couldn’t be the Cheetos, right?); and 7) uncontrollable urination. And if that’s not crappy enough, the muscle pain can launch a VERY serious condition called rhabdomyolysis, in which muscle tissue tears away from the bone, muscle fibers enter the bloodstream and you wind up with acute renal failure. Dialysis ... what every diabetic wants for Hanukkah.

I injected a pint of insulin for dinner and ordered a pizza. It was worth it.

In this post: Sirens, weather, toilet paper, Russians.

In case you’re been wondering what’s been going on around here I’ll provide a thorough Wednesday retrospective from the bowels of Howdygram headquarters.

What does a retiree wear to an aneurysm screening? I might need a new outfit.

In this post: The tamale cure, depressing invitations.

Sometimes it sucks to be me. Yesterday, for the first time ever, the pain in my right hand was so intense I COULDN’T TYPE A HOWDYGRAM POST. Since today isn’t really much better, either, I’ve decided just to eat a can of Hormel tamales — a trusted, medically-approved remedy for diabetic peripheral neuropathy — and press on. For the record, my fingers won’t bend and my hand stings like all the bones are broken. Imagine catching a speeding baseball bare-handed. I think you get my drift.

Texas is run by a financial terrorist who also happens to be really, really stupid.

In this post: Food delivery, palpatations, Governor Hairdo.

As I hang around waiting for my Friday evening delivery from Artizone.com — baloney with olives! homemade tamales! bean salad! sliced turkey! — I thought I’d overshare some crap from yesterday when I experienced two exciting new symptoms of autonomic neuropathy, which is defined as follows by the National Library of Medicine:

Autonomic neuropathy is a group of symptoms that occur from damage to the nerves that manage everyday body functions, such as blood pressure, heart rate, sweating, body temperature, bladder control and digestion. Autonomic neuropathy is most frequently caused by diabetes.

We still don’t know what’s responsible for The Dinty Moore Dumpling Incident.

In this post: The shower saga continues, flying dumplings, Jane Powell.

There are so many EARTH-SHAKING HOT SCOOPS today at Howdygram headquarters I almost don’t know where to start. Maybe the best approach would be to separate everything into neatly-typed, indented sections for your reading pleasure. I hope you’ll consider turning off your phone until you’re through here to avoid interruptions and distractions, okay? Thank you.

I got all dressed up with shoes and a brassiere.

In this post: A new low, musical memories, baloney with olives.

Sunday got away from me, people. Following a severe low blood sugar episode Friday night during which — how can I put this delicately? — I was minutes away from a HYPOGLYCEMIC COMA, I spent most of Saturday and all day Sunday indulging in copious amounts of sleep because that’s how a body responds to shitty diabetic experiences: WITH TOTAL EXHAUSTION. However we did have an opportunity to enjoy a couple of fine movies this weekend: Hans Christian Andersen (1952) starring Danny Kaye and The Muse (1999) starring Albert Brooks and Sharon Stone.

A quick primer on insulin injections.

In this post: Gourmet groceries, too many needles.

Glorioski, everybody … you’ll never believe what I just discovered: GOURMET GROCERIES FOR HOME DELIVERY RIGHT HERE IN DALLAS. I never thought the Lone Star State could feel so cosmopolitan! The website is called Artizone.com and it’s just like shopping at Central Market except you don’t have to fight for parking or wear a brassiere! Artizone sells products from artisans all over the Dallas/Fort Worth area at pretty amazing prices, and home delivery only costs $5.95. I decided to test the water with the small order pictured below: organic Brussels sprouts, imported hard salami, olive loaf and two pounds of bean salad with onions in a cilantro vinaigrette. Delivery is one week from today even though I’M STARVING RIGHT NOW. Is this exciting, or what?

The day that got away.

In this post: Sleep, shopping, a movie review.

I’ve really outdone myself this time, people. A few minutes ago I woke up from my first-ever SEVEN-HOUR NAP. There was a short lunch break in the middle for a can of Hormel tamales and a brief yet pleasant conversation with Sam, but I remember nothing else about Thursday, April 17. Somebody stuffed my head with sawdust when I wasn’t looking. HOLY CRAP. And I mean this sincerely.

Celebrating Sunday. Thunderstorms, baloney and great crap on TV.

In this post: Blackouts, baloney, thunderstorms, a train wreck.

It’s 4:30 in the morning and Sam and I woke up about an hour ago. This is what happens when a person takes too many naps! In my case, though, it resulted from a huge hypoglycemic (low blood sugar) crisis at lunch-time yesterday when I practically blacked out followed by such overwhelming fatigue that I slept on the chaise for SIX HOURS. By the time I woke up — around 6 p.m., I think — the whole day was shot to hell.

Things I can’t do any more.

In this post: A serious kvetch report.

I don’t want you to assume that I’m depressed, whiny, negative or defeated, but the list of things I can’t do gets longer every day due to complications and side effects from arthritis, diabetes and a smorgasbord of prescription drugs. Here’s my “can’t do” list as of 11 p.m. on April 10, 2014.

Why bother rinsing spoons in the sink when you can just buy more?

In this post: Kvetch report, announcements.

I don’t feel well today, and I’m going to tell you why whether you really want to know or not. Got that? Good. The complaints du jour are as follows: 1) my body temperature is only 95.4°; 2) I’m peeing way too often; 3) my heels hurt; 4) my right hand feels like it’s broken; 5) my balance is off; 6) I’ve got muscle weakness in both legs; and 7) holy crap, isn’t that enough?

This is a perfect opportunity for Texas diners to switch to Chinese.

In this post: Bustling activity, a citrus dilemma.

Howdygram headquarters has been bustling with SENIOR CITIZEN EXCITEMENT today, as evidenced by the neatly-typed list that appears below.

I WOKE UP AT 2:45 A.M. In case you give a crap, I had aching shins — glorioski! something new! — plus chest pains from being hunched over in a weird position and burning hot hands with stabby electric shocks due to diabetic peripheral neuropathy. The best remedy was to drink a South Pacific Marcytini — this is a regular Marcytini with some sugar-free Hawaiian Punch powder mixed in — and diddle around at my desk until I felt like a regular person again. I went back to bed at 4:15. (Sam didn’t know I was gone.)

It’s amazing how you can talk yourself into eating insane crap when you have diabetes.

In this post: Shirataki on sale.

In case you don’t have anything productive to do tonight here’s a hot tip from our Happy Homemaker department! Zero-calorie shirataki noodles are 10% off through March 28 at Asian Food Grocer, and if you love this crap as much as I do you’ll drop everything RIGHT NOW and buy yourself a bunch. Asian Food Grocer has the best prices on the Internet plus cheap flat-rate shipping. I just ordered some Skinny brand shirartaki angel hair noodles and shirataki rice.

Chocolate chip cookies to the rescue.

In this post: Killing time.

It’s 4 a.m. and I should be in bed right now. Unfortunately a hypoglycemic episode woke me from a sound sleep about 45 minutes ago — it always amazes me when that happens! — so I decided to sit around with a box of chocolate chip cookies until I feel steady enough to go back to bed. At this point, though, I think I might hang out in the study for a little while and wait for Sam to get home from work. I hope it’s SOON because he’s supposed to start work tomorrow morning at 11 (instead of 2 p.m.) and won’t have time to get any sleep.

Magic plumbing fairies came over last night.

In this post: Easy fixes, a kvetch report.

I’ve got some incredible news. A team of MAGIC PLUMBING FAIRIES came over while we were sleeping last night and fixed the problem with our new Whirlpool water heater!

After this thing was installed on Monday we weren’t getting any pressure in the shower in our master bathroom and the temperature was pooping out to lukewarm before we were halfway finished. Sam left a voice mail for the installation team from Lowe’s, and they called back to explain that a new water heater can sometimes cause sediment to get stuck temporarily in the trap behind the shower (who knew?) and cause the problems we were having. This morning, though, everything was COMPLETELY BACK TO NORMAL all by itself with plenty of scalding hot water (Sam enjoys the “lobster” effect) and pressure like Niagara Falls. And then we swapped our shower head with the guest bathroom ... JUST FOR FUN!

However, if this is unnecessarily confusing — or if you simply don’t give a crap — please feel free to move along to the next paragraph. Thank you.

Breaking news from our Buy This Crap Fast Before the Price Goes Up department.

In this post: Hypoglycemia, hot dogs, emergency coffee, North Korea.

5:25 A.M. Oy. I’ve been awake for an hour and I’m a mess. My eyes are watering, I’ve got a nasal drip and my blood sugar is SCARY LOW (50) so I’ve been binge-eating Wal-Mart glucose tablets (the raspberry ones) for the last 20 minutes. I wish I had a Marcytini but this would involve a round-trip to the kitchen and I’m not sure I can walk that far because HYPOGLYCEMIA. So I’ll annoy you instead.

I have no idea whatsoever how insulin syringes and incontinence supplies connect to St. Patrick’s Day.

In this post: Diabetic leprechauns, Chinese food porn.

Glorioski. I just got an email promoting a “Luck o’ the Irish” sale at DiabetesSupplies4Less even though I’m not Irish, I’ve never been Irish, I don’t intend to be Irish and I have no idea whatsoever how insulin syringes and incontinence supplies connect to St. Patrick’s Day. Therefore, to celebrate not being Irish I just ordered three boxes of FreeStyle Lite diabetes test strips from eBay because they have no leprechaun clip art and better prices.

A surge protector will solve all my problems and everything will be perfect for the rest of my life.

In this post: Taste buds, shopping, a Putz of the Week.

I’ve got so much monumental news to tell you I almost don’t know where to start, so I thought I’d just divide this post into neatly-labeled paragraphs to help you go with the flow. Thank you.

I just discovered the Vienna Beef website.

In this post: Another weather failure, a hot & spicy life.

I woke up half an hour ago for my middle-of-the-night senior citizen bathroom adventure — also hoping to enjoy some expected thunderstorms — but once again the lying sacks of poo at Weather.com missed their forecast by miles. And hours. The storms that were supposed to be rolling through here as I write this post have been shoved back to around 10 a.m., but I sure wouldn’t bet the ranch on it.