Grrr.

The Social Security Administration has decided that I am not disabled and therefore ineligible for payments from them. "However, you may appeal this determination if you still think you are disabled or blind." Yes, I will appeal, thanks. Grr.

This wasn't unexpected--most applicants are turned down on the first try--but it's still not what I wanted to hear right now. At least I've already got an appointment on Thursday at a place with some experience in dealing with Social Security, so this stuff will just be added to the things I already wanted to discuss. And who the heck sent the SSA a report from "UNKNOWN ADDRESS" in November, anyway? Sheesh.

In other news, still haven't heard from social services. I really should have gotten something from them by now--even if they don't think I'm disabled either, I'm still poor.

If I weren't feeling so miserable today I'd already be at somebody's office haranguing them.

It's Snowing! It's Snowing!

I'm sick and phlegmy and having some trouble with the whole breathing thing, but I'm gonna go for a walk. If I'm not back with you in 24 hours, call out the search teams.

An attendance of STR Nicholas

I'm back from looking at the Christmas lights while catching big, fluffy snowflakes on my tongue. As part of my celebration of the season, here is the traditional mutilation of a popular Christmas poem. (This mutilation was achieved by running the poem through Babelfish's English-to-German translator, then dragging it back to English again.) Enjoy!

An attendance of STR Nicholas


' Twas the night before Christmas, when by the house a creature did not agitate itself completely, a mouse do not smooth; The socks were hung by the fire-place with Obacht, in hopes that STR would be Nicholas there soon;

The children nest LED quite comfortably in their beds, while sights of the sugar plums danced into their headings; And mamma in their ' kerchief and I in my protective cap, had agreed upon even down for the hair of a long winter,

When on the lawn such developed out a Geklapper, I rose from the bed, in order to see, what the material was. Away to the Window I flew like lightning, tore opened the shutters up violently and threw up sash.
( The moon on the chest of the again-pleased snow... )