Thursday, June 22, 2017
Brownouts are no joke and they're not any damned fun either.
So I got the dogs to the park and through most of their walk by 9:30. Took them home, went and got coffee, then went grocery shopping. Home by 11:30, groceries put away and lunch by 12.
Woohoo! Life goals complete! Nothing to do but write and take that elusive nap. (My stepmom had like a four day streak of waking me up in the middle of my nap. I was a snarling snapping disaster, for real.)
So I went down for the nap at 1:48. At 2:01, Chicken called, and she's gotten really good at this.
"Mom, I'm going to be okay, but I need you to come pick me up and take me to the hospital to get my knee stitched up."
"I fell taking out the garbage and sliced it open."
"Can you get someone from work to take you, and I'll be there ASAP?" I said as I jumped out of bed, slid on my shoes and ran for my keys.
"That's good to know--wait. You got hurt--"
"Taking the garbage out at home."
"I don't know what else to tell you."
"That's the important stuff. I'll be there in fifteen." As I dodged out of the house I hollered to the kids (who hadn't moved, as far as I could tell, since I'd made them help me with groceries) "Bye guys--your sister needs stitches! Back in a few!"
Anyway-- so yeah. That's where part of my day went. I brought her home and let her huddle in the AC, fed her, sent her home with food, the usual. But as we were driving home and I was offering to get her comfort Starbucks, I said, "You know, I thought your little brother was going to be the kid who spent all his time at the hospital. But you were the one who dropped him on his head so I should have known."
And of all things, THAT made her laugh.
So she's going to be fine--but I did have an interesting time telling her brother he could use the kitchen cleaning wet wipes to clean the blood off the floor. I think he thought we needed some sort of special acid solvent, like assassins or something.
And oh! I got my copies of Manny Get Your Guy today-- SO excited! Did you get yours?