02/22/00 -- The Weekend that Sucked Turkey Butt

Wow.  It's been a week.  But hey, I never said this was daily, right?  Not until Clarion.  Speaking of Clarion... I mailed off my admission fee and my LLE application this morning.  So my next packet of stuff in the mail from them should be my packet of stuff telling me what to bring and how to get there and all that jazz.  Maybe it'll tell me how to make arrangements to get there on Saturday instead of Sunday and how to leave on Sunday instead of Saturday when it is all over.  So I can shell out an extra $17.50/day to stay in the dorm.

But enough about Clarion ... for now.

This weekend sucked giant turkey butt.

Not only did I not work out Thursday, Friday, Saturday, or Sunday, but everything that might've gone wrong over the course of the weekend (without totally stopping the Earth's rotation or causing any of the seven plagues of Egypt or anything like that), did.

Friday night, sweetie fell through the arm of the couch.  Yep, through about three pieces of wood supports.  There's pretty white fluff coming out of the side of the couch, now.  And leaning on that arm isn't necessarily a safe thing.

We went to dinner, anyway.  And even went so far as to head over to American Furniture Warehouse since it was close to where we ate dinner.  We found a couch we liked (and I found an awesome chair, but that's another whine for another time).  And, rather than buy it right then and there, we decided to go back to the house and measure the doors to see if the thing would fit through them.

Turns out it won't.  Which sucks rocks.  It was an awesome couch (and chair!).  Nice and fluffy and comfy and big.  It had a queen sized sleeper in it, too.  Not a bad price.  Biggest complaint was that it was a light beige/cream/ivory color.  It could've been darker, but I was willing to deal (especially if I got the chair, too!).  But this wasn't to be.  Looks like we're stuck with the dead couch until we find another house to live in (buy? *hopehopehope*).

So after measuring the couch in the house, and all available doors.  And after bringing trig into play to see if by some strange miracle, he could fit it in somehow, sweetie decides that his back isn't feeling any better.  So off he and Boo go to the ER.  This is, mmm, say, 10:30pm.  About 3am, I hear them unlock the door, I hear them check on me (I've tried to go to sleep well before that point and had only small success).  Next thing I know, it's 6am and sweetie is finally coming to sleep. Oy.  Typical.  Maybe he isn't hurt all that badly.  Well, he tells me as I try and focus around a body that just wants to go back to sleep, they said deep muscle bruising, torn muscles, and I may have taken a shot to the kidney.  If I pee blood, I'm in trouble.  And going straight back to the ER.  Do not pass GO!, do not collect $200.

Thankfully, that didn't happen.

Saturday morning, Boo and I drive into Boulder to get sweetie's prescription.  We bring it back to the house (along with some comfort food for him and some cough drops for Boo and I), I leave sweetie messages telling him where his sammich is, where his pain killers are, and anything else I can think of that he might need to know.  Oh, yeah, like Boo and I are driving to Cheyenne.

Which we did.  It was time to upgrade a friend's laptop. Should've been easy: replace the mother board and processor, pop in the new vid card, pop in new memory, screw in the new hard drive, place the new fans, put everything else back in place, close up the case, boot it up, and zoom!  Right?  Wrong.  New board had a bad floppy controller.  So everything came apart and went back together in something resembling the original configuration (plus vid card, memory, fans).   And the floppies still didn't work (though at least the stupid thing would boot to Windows).  What should've taken an hour, maybe two, took six and was a complete flop.

We went home, defeated.  I went to bed.  I think Boo and sweetie went out to Perkins to eat dinner and play cards.

Sunday morning, sweetie was having an allergic reaction to the pain meds (pain meds that he'd had before without incident *sigh*).  So I call the ER.  Give him 50mg of Benadryl.  If he keeps itching, develops a rash, feels like his tongue is swollen, or like he's having trouble breathing, bring him in right away.  He was dopey, he had me worried for the better part of Sunday, but he survived.  And without another trip to the ER.

And I did the same thing all day Sunday that I did when he had surgery and I went to the hospital after I left work and saw him there in the hospital bed asleep.  I was freak-out city then, and Sunday was no different.  What would I do without him in my life.  And If one of us has to die first, I want it to be me because I don't know if I could handle losing him like that.

Actually, I wonder that in my non-freak-out moments sometimes.   But most of the time I can be calm and rational about our relationship.  It's just times when I feel like I have the greatest risk of losing him nonconsentually that I get totally irrational and weepy.  And then he accuses me of being a salt-lick and I either laugh, or cry more.

He's feeling better now, though.  Which is good.  It means I don't have to freak out anymore until the next time the fit hits the shan.