Waiting for pizza

Okay, the pizza's warming up in the oven, I've got about, oh, 13 minutes left before I have to go shut off the timer and get the slices out of there. Because, yes, even in the summer heat, I reheat pizza in the oven, not the microwave. Because life is too short to eat soggy pizza.

Despite what you may think, I'm actually starting to eat better the last several days. I'm slowly cutting back on when I get desserts (day two on the wagon right now), I'm eating a ton of fruit and today, I bought some green things. Actually one green, one purple. I had to try purple cauliflower, even at such an outrageous price. Since I don't actually know how to cook cauliflower, I also bought some organic garlic hummus. Also for an outrageous price. It had better be good. Both of them. Meanwhile, I have an even more outrageously-priced avocado that doesn't seem to want to ripen sitting on top of the fridge. Sigh.

I don't want to examine too closely why I'm eating better or buying these new, interesting, supposedly healthful things. I'm supposed to be focusing on my finances, but I suppose, since I'm not having much luck with getting those under control, looking at my food intake is a pleasant diversion.

Also, in general, with some exceptions, my health is pretty good at the moment, so I'm more likely to cook (and, no, I do not consider heating up leftover pizza in the oven to be "cooking". I'm not that bad). I am, however, still doctor-shopping, though. Now that I have switched insurers, I need to find new doctors, because of course my new, cheaper insurance does not have anywhere near the roster of doctors that my old insurance did. And even that was shrinking all the time, more and more docs who were tired of accepting a pittance that was routinely delayed, anyway. Can't blame 'em.

I'm very frustrated, though. First, the doctor I had seen many years ago who diagnosed my chronic fatigue syndrome never sent her records, nor those of my previous doctor that I hand-carried to her office, to my next doctor. So, pretty much, those records of my medical history are now lost. And my late insurance company, Oxford, likewise didn't have much in the way of records from back then.

Now it turns out the NYU Breast Imaging Center, where I've been getting mammograms for more than a decade, has lost all my films.

On top of my stepfather or my mother throwing out all my childhood photos they had in their possession, it's like I'm disappearing from the face of the Earth before I've actually, physically left it.

Pizza's done. More later...tomorrow.