Sometimes I am amused at the situations that occur providing me with excellent writing material. I mean, I seriously can’t make this shit up. Yesterday, I took Bryce to have his wisdom teeth removed. The day before I had stocked up on his favorite drinks and food items along with the medications that he was prescribed. We were ready for this. Although, he did share that he googled this particular type of surgery and found a case where a person died. (Thanks, Bryce.) I compare this experience to a drive-thru. They literally took him back and it felt like five minutes later, he was done. His first words to me were, “I am high as shit.”. I didn’t feel like correcting him on the obvious. The fact that shit can’t be high. I mean, I suppose, if you put it on a shelf, but who is really going to do that?
On the drive home, he made a valiant effort to put on Chapstick. I am not sure that his lips actually got the benefit, but I am positive that his face was coated nicely. It was like watching a drunk woman try to put on lipstick. We arrived home only to be greeted by my spouse who tried to hide the fact that he was suffering from the dreaded stomach crud. In my head, I am thinking that there was only room for one patient today and it isn’t going to be him. Covering my mouth and armed with Lysol, I gave him some anti-nausea medicine and sent him away to the guest room. I closed the door and held a crucifix up, in an effort to stave off the dreaded germs. (Kidding…..I held up a rosary.)
As everything quieted down, my phone rang and it was my mother. Now, I could have avoided the next situation if I hadn’t answered the phone, but apparently, I am a glutton for punishment.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, honey. I have the upholsterer here to pick up my chair. Do you happen to have the receipt from the down payment? We don’t remember what material was picked.”
Okay, I am literally about to lose my mind.
“Mom, I don’t know where that is right now as I have my hands full, but I am pretty confident that the upholsterer has the original copy of the receipt and has that information.”
“Well, he doesn’t remember.”
“Then you might want another upholsterer.”
“He is already loading my chair in his truck.”
“Well, then, good luck.”
Our conversation ended and I was in a state of WTF. In the meantime, Bryce was completely fine. The drugs do nothing to him as far as making him loopy and he commented that he feels pretty good. Just a little pain. As for Brian, he periodically paraded around the house holding his stomach and moaning. Christ on a cracker.
I can’t wait to see what writing material life will provide me today. Most importantly, I look forward to seeing what fabric ends up on my mother’s chair. I am hoping for a nice animal print.
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