Still no pack-out date, moving money, or anything else from the assholes at PSD. When the husbeast went over this morning they - again - had no idea who he was or what he was doing there. The only person in the place who admits to recognizing him is the receptionist, who keeps thanking him for not biting her head off (imagine how pleasant HER job must be). There is talk among the fuckheads of a packout date on Thursday or Friday, meaning some asshole movers will decide they don't want to come back Monday and try to pack my house in two days. The last time this happened half my property was destroyed and the rest was jumbled into boxes like someone picked up the house, turned it on its side, and shook the contents into a shipping container.
If it happens again, people will suffer. And it will not be me. I am not in a good mood and would love to have a target to take it out on. Fuckheads.
In other, related, the-military-is-a-clusterfuck news, Tricare is still refusing to pay for my anti-inflammatories and THEY didn't know who I was when I called, either. And as usual they're passing the buck and saying they don't know why the policy was issued and the rules put in place and I could talk to a supervisor who has no more authority to fix the problem than the stupid fuck on the phone and everything is always everyone else's fault. Fucking corporations. I got the number my doctor is supposed to call, left it on the doctor's answering machine, and now I get to sit here and take goddamn narcotics because they won't pay for the anti-inflammatories. When I get stomach cramps from narcotic withdrawal, I want to shit in a bag and sent it to the cuntheads over at Tricare. Maybe then they'll realize they're fucking with people's lives.
And I have a chin zit. That REALLY pisses me off.