|"Tell me more about this 'vacation' thing, Mom..."|
A couple of weeks ago I lost a crucial battle in my ongoing war with gravity and fell down a couple of steps; several casualties resulted. My favorite ice coffee cup, with its double walled construction and purple straw, shattered on impact with the driveway. My laptop, my dear friend and companion, fell about six feet straight down and landed flat on the gravel. I hoped, a futile weak little hope, that it might defy my luck and survive.
It did not.
The third casualty of this stupid fall, more important than the cup and arguably less emotionally devastating that the laptop, was my left ankle. Something in there is sprained and something in there is probably, I admit, broken. I've broken foot bones before. (Did I mention this battle against gravity is not new to me?) The husband and I are having a long-term "discussion" about exactly when I should go to the doctor. Obviously, I can't go to the doctor because what if something is way more broken than I think? What if an xray says I need to be in a cast? I am going on vacation. Already, one dog-blogging friend of mine is grounded due to broken bone and given how much I plan to harass him over it, I'd better show up myself, limping or not.
Next. On Tuesday of this week I noticed our preschooler breathing funny. You're just going to have to trust me when I say I have laser-sighted instincts about this kid's breathing, given some severe respiratory problems he's had in the past. Heart full of foreboding, I trotted him off to the pediatrician and waited for the words "You're overreacting."
Ha ha ha! The doctor never says that to me. He said, "We need some xrays. Now." Surprise, your instincts are great, your little boy has pneumonia.
Obviously the only way to end the week was for the little boy to start feeling better at the same time I came down with a sudden incapacitating case of the Martian Sinus Cold. I don't remember the past couple of days. I promise you I spent yesterday asleep.
None of this is going to change my plans. I'll see you at Gettysburg. I'll be the one limping along with a neurotic little black houndie trying to hide behind me.
If you're also going to GiG and want to say hi, please feel free to get in touch with me through FB, here! I'll add the usual disclaimer that any personality I display on the internet tends to evaporate when I'm placed into "real life."