Some days I really want to write something astonishing and inspirational, but my head seems full of fluff. Or rather, my head seems full of the stuff you get when you're a mom and a wife and a part-time writer. Such as, I've got a lot of laundry to do. The incontinent dog showed an unprecedented level of interest in the dirty horse boots left over from our Florida competition, which pushed those right to the start of the laundry line (so that the dog, who's already eaten about $6000 worth of riding gloves* this year, didn't start in on the boots). So now those are in the washer going thumpthumpthump. Meanwhile, the dog has moved on.
The refrigerator repairman is coming today, alleluia, "sometime between 8 and 12," though it's 8:30 already. Supposedly the job will take at least 2 hours. This means it will take 5 hours, and he will arrive at 1:30. (My husband said, "I'm sure since this is such a big job they'll schedule it for first thing." Right. You can tell who usually handles the appliance appointments in our family. **
The vet is also coming, to do Sarah's next shockwave treatment, and, though he doesn't know this yet, take the stitches out of Mickey's head. I may have forgotten to mention it, but while my horses were busy being jerks in Florida Mickey opened up a half-moon slice of his scalp that required 8 stitches on a Sunday, and a double-dose of tranquilizer because he hadn't been enough of a jerk so far. The vet and I both called him bad names. If I have to tranq him to pull the stitches out I'm stopping it out of his pay. Or his grain. Whatever.
The vet is scheduled for 2 pm. In theory, you see, there is no possible way that the refrigerator guy (here by 12, 2-hour job) and the vet could collide, but you know what will happen, don't you? The vet will show up first. Then, just when I've brought the horses in and am holding Mickey by a twitch and his ear, the refrigerator guy will come. If I don't drop the horse immediately and run for the house, the refrigerator guy will decide I'm not home, leave, and it'll be another week and a half without a fridge.
This morning my husband suggested that since our daughter's cough was still persisting*** perhaps I should ring the pediatrician. After a moment in which I sputtered--how do you sort this out, refrigerator, child, vet****--he offered to take her in. The pediatrician will not be pleased when I tell them exactly what time I want an appointment, but on the bright side my daughter will be seen quickly, because no way will one physician let another wait three hours in a waiting room.
Obviously that's an argument for my husband doing all the pediatric appointments.*****
*exaggerated for effect. But he has eaten two gloves entirely, both for the right hand.
** me
***horrible. Like she's hacking up hairballs. For two weeks.
****obviously, child usually comes before anything. Likewise, anything that's bleeding or in imminent peril comes first. But a cough that's persisted for 2 weeks versus a dead refrigerator? Hard call.
*****Sound logic, but it never quite worked out that way.
The refrigerator repairman is coming today, alleluia, "sometime between 8 and 12," though it's 8:30 already. Supposedly the job will take at least 2 hours. This means it will take 5 hours, and he will arrive at 1:30. (My husband said, "I'm sure since this is such a big job they'll schedule it for first thing." Right. You can tell who usually handles the appliance appointments in our family. **
The vet is also coming, to do Sarah's next shockwave treatment, and, though he doesn't know this yet, take the stitches out of Mickey's head. I may have forgotten to mention it, but while my horses were busy being jerks in Florida Mickey opened up a half-moon slice of his scalp that required 8 stitches on a Sunday, and a double-dose of tranquilizer because he hadn't been enough of a jerk so far. The vet and I both called him bad names. If I have to tranq him to pull the stitches out I'm stopping it out of his pay. Or his grain. Whatever.
The vet is scheduled for 2 pm. In theory, you see, there is no possible way that the refrigerator guy (here by 12, 2-hour job) and the vet could collide, but you know what will happen, don't you? The vet will show up first. Then, just when I've brought the horses in and am holding Mickey by a twitch and his ear, the refrigerator guy will come. If I don't drop the horse immediately and run for the house, the refrigerator guy will decide I'm not home, leave, and it'll be another week and a half without a fridge.
This morning my husband suggested that since our daughter's cough was still persisting*** perhaps I should ring the pediatrician. After a moment in which I sputtered--how do you sort this out, refrigerator, child, vet****--he offered to take her in. The pediatrician will not be pleased when I tell them exactly what time I want an appointment, but on the bright side my daughter will be seen quickly, because no way will one physician let another wait three hours in a waiting room.
Obviously that's an argument for my husband doing all the pediatric appointments.*****
*exaggerated for effect. But he has eaten two gloves entirely, both for the right hand.
** me
***horrible. Like she's hacking up hairballs. For two weeks.
****obviously, child usually comes before anything. Likewise, anything that's bleeding or in imminent peril comes first. But a cough that's persisted for 2 weeks versus a dead refrigerator? Hard call.
*****Sound logic, but it never quite worked out that way.
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