What do you call it when your day nickels and dimes you to death, but not financially, just, peskily? It’s HOT outside, and I seem to be retaining five pounds of fluid (mostly in my face) because of this poison oak adventure. The kids will. not. stop. bickering. I had a satisfying fantasy this afternoon where I walked out to the street with them and then, one at a time, drop kicked them over the houses across the street and into the field behind.
When I was changing over the laundry, I saw a puddle. And, I was all, "Oh my! Someone must have dropped an ice cube under the washer. It CANNOT be leaking because it is new."
Oh, but it is! Leaking all over the place. John called
(because I thought I’d cry if I did it, really) and left a message so
they can call us sometime to schedule a repair visit on July 28th. I
will not be here. I will be at BlogHer. In really smelly clothes.
(No, really I will go to my mom’s to do washing.)
While I was mopping up the puddle, I broke my pinky fingernail way way
way down low. I have a Fantastic 4 bandaid keeping it together for
Nathan had to have some bloodwork done today, so he and I went to take care of it. He has new health insurance, and the lab is not one I’ve ever been to. There are dozens of locations, all printed on the back of the requisition slip. My doctor helpfully circled one that’s really close to her office. The address said, "234 Lost Cheeto Blvd." (not the real street name. duh.) and we got onto Lost Cheeto Blvd. at the 15,000 block. The way we were driving, the numbers were getting smaller, but I knew that the street changed names really soon. I called the lab and said, "Hi, I wonder if you could help me find your lab? I’m on Lost Cheeto Blvd and can’t find you. What is your cross street?"
The woman said, "LOST CHEETO BLVD??!!!?? We ARE NOT on that street, we are on Lost Cheeto — Sparrowtoe Road."
"OH!" I said, "Okay. You aren’t on Lost Cheeto, you are on Lost Cheeto –Sparrowtoe. Is the number 234?"
"Yes," said the liar liar pants on fire hanging from a telephone wire woman.
Nate and I spent a big chunk of time looking for the place, but there is no 234 on the LCS road. We even parked at 248, got out and walked around to see if it was behind other buildings. Not there. I’m thinking that they ARE on Lost Cheeto and that LCS is the cross street, but instead of testing that theory, we just headed over to the nearby hospital that was also listed on the lab slip.
You know, the hospital that’s on the road that’s closed today for resurfacing! We finally got there, parked and went in. To the oncology and radiology building. Next, we walked over to the main hospital and finally !! got to the lab, where we saw this sign on the door that said, "Effective July 18, the Snafford Lab will be located at (other location which closes in ten minutes OR other location which closes in forty minutes)."
Nate was starving, so we hit the vending machine for chips and orange soda and walked back to the car. "The lab is right by where Dr. F’s old office is," I STUPIDLY said. Dr. F was Nate’s (and Willow’s) pediatric ophthalmologist. He did Nate’s eye surgery when he was three years old. He died last fall, and I was so so so so sad that I didn’t tell the kids. I think Lex knows, and I thought Nate had found out since then, but he hadn’t. He asked me if Dr. F was still alive and I told him that he died last year.
Nate was heartbroken. He cried and cried while we drove. I heard him very softly say, "I just wanna go home." So, we did and tomorrow we’ll go to the other location lab and get his blood draw done.
Now I’m going to pour a glass of TwoBuckChuck and get supper made.
Oh, yeah! Also, Willow got stung by a bee! Today was ick.
But wait! There’s more! I just poured boiling water on my foot while draining the pasta!