His parents went to Greensboro for dinner and a hotel room to celebrate a special family occasion.
Which means that we had one of the very few chances for us to have some quiet alone time.
After a full day that involved trying to pull the toilet in my bathroom to unclog it (can’t do it – one of the bolts is rusted on) (calling him to find out if he can help me but he didn’t answer the call til 3 hours later), cleaning, shopping for / trying to find pants for work and then going to work (at a grocery store. during thanksgiving shopping week. you do the math), flipping out on Miss “I’m not STUPID I made sure all the leaves were way way far away before I set the stuff on fire in the driveway” (but without making sure that the waterhose actually FUNCTIONS) during my dinner break I was exhausted.
I dropped the go-kart off at the house (after work. At 1130pm) and rode with him back to his house, where I learned the HARD way that hot water lasts about five minutes. So much for that hawt shower scene he had planned….
So I dried my shudderingly shivering body off and listened to him talk about how the heating element needs to be fixed (dude? I have a 50 gallon hot water heater set to 120 degrees – I can shower while the dishwasher runs and STILL finish my shower pink and pleasantly toasty). Then we made our way to the bedroom where his plan included shaving. With a set of loud 20 yr old clippers. I lost count of how many times he nicked me with that thing. The vibration was somewhat pleasant though.
Did I mention his bedroom used to be the side porch? It was just a smidge freezing in there. And there’s just enough room for a twin bed, a computer desk, and a small dresser. Claustrophobia anyone?
THEN he realized that I would need another shower since hair was everywhere. The good news? The hot water heater had regenned. The bad news? again – not nearly long enough. Cold. Coldcoldcoldcoldcold.
Y’all? it’s 1am by now and I’m fried. And rocking in his bed trying to get warm and calm the exhaustion-related panic attack that’s right around the corner. And all I could think of was my lovely bottle of meds tucked away into my medicine cabinet. At my house.
Unfortunately, I failed miserably. I spent the next 45 minutes in his mama’s bathroom sick as a dog – complete with vomiting.
He did reasonably well by me, but couldn’t quite grasp the WHY involved in my sickness.
I hate days like this. It seems like everything that can go wrong, ultimately does go wrong.