Note to self - do not shred junk mail

Note to self - do not shred junk mail

Darn cold again this weekend so, in the interests of getting some gentle exercise, I insulated some of our heating ducts a bit better and completely sealed the reachable air vents in the crawl space.  Don't know if it worked or not - I don't really expect to notice any significant effect: maybe the air will come out of the heating system a fraction of a degree warmer.  Susan and I also shifted some bookcases and the piano to be more centrally located between the two windows in the games room.  This time I hung onto the drill tightly while cutting holes in the bookcases to feed cable through so no more holes in the carpet.  For a change, I quit before I was knackered which made me feel a lot better all afternoon.  I also, after spending a mere 12 years swearing at the cable on the bloody thing which is about a foot too short, fitted an extension cable to our satellite radio antenna so it is finally at eye level in the stereo cabinet rather than at ankle level.
Susan produced a splendid pot roast for dinner and I ate twice as much as I usually would.  They warned me I would have the most bizarre appetite and the prediction is coming true.  My full-blown chemo starts tomorrow so I will start to know then whether to expect major barfing.

And so to the junk mail. 

Like most American households our mailbox gets jammed with ads from various insurance companies and charities, much of which I simply shred and put in the recycle bin unopened.  (I've tried to tell Manna Food Bank that we'll give them food and money so please stop sending us stuff but they send it anyway).  An envelope arrived on Friday from the HealthWell Foundation which I assumed was asking for a donation and I had it in the "shred grip" before I thought "What the hell - let's read it over lunch".  I'm glad I did as it was confirmation of a conversation I'd had with the financial people at Mission Hospital about a grant to help with treatment costs that aren't covered by Medicare.  (I'd lost my health insurance from school when they cut my hours - I always thought that was an obnoxious thing for Walmart to do to long-serving employees and I still agree).  Fortunately I am old enough for Medicare and had somewhat coincidentally signed up for parts A (free), B and D.  I don't know what other parts there are and haven't got a clue what C is but figured I didn't need it.  Health insurance in the US is beyond the comprehension of a humble soul like me with a mere honours degree in maths. 
Talk about happy - it wasn't exactly a Powerball prize but the grant was more than I've ever seen in a pile at one time.  Not that we get it in cash - they pay it to us as my bills come due and, not unreasonably, if I don't spend it all they don't give me the balance to go out on the (non-alcoholic) booze with.  It's a heck of a relief, though and it has even been backdated to the night this all started.
It could prove to be academic, of course, as if Trump wins in November I will be on the first plane out.  And if Cruz wins I will wait for the second plane.
And now it's nearly bedtime, wondering but not worrying about what tomorrow will bring (besides, perhaps, some pretty snow).