AS FOR THE REMAINDER of Friday evening, it was mostly uneventful for us. We heated up some pizzas, cleaned up the kitchen, and the older two went on to play in Boy’s room, while I fulfilled a special request for Tiny Girl. I had asked her if she wanted to make a card for her teacher to say she was sorry, and being all 21st Centuryish, she said she wanted to send her a card to her e-mail.

So, onto the vast Internet we hied, and looked at several free e-card sites to find the most extra special pretty fun nice card we could find for free. Finally found one that had a pretty flower on a blue background and some sort of frothy .wav going in the background. I took dictation while Cat held forth, her basic message being that she was sorry, and wrong, and she won’t do that again, and that she loved her teacher. I thought about adding, “My name is Catherine, and I approve this message,” but decided not to. I did add a bit at the bottom to let the teacher know that Cat had indeed picked out the design and the words were hers, but I think it would have been even better to have been made by hand. Sheesh. Kids today.

Anyway, that done, I got them all bundled into bed and waited for Reba to get home with Oldest from the football game. They seem to have had quite a time of it in the rain. And apparently poor old Trussville did, too. They only lost by a score of 23-20, but this was after playing a dismal first half and then having to fight back in the second half. And Mountain Brook didn’t come out unscathed--they lost their quarterback to a broken collarbone, and their second-string QB was already banged up as well, and then one of their backs had to leave the game. Tough play on a messy night. The band kids managed to stay somewhat dryish, although they did get wet enough to stink. Reba got home about 11, but I was so out of it by then I hardly noticed.

And then, Saturday, the day of self-injury.

Woke up and enjoyed breakfast cooked by Mom and Catherine, and then got going with chores. And I had my own chores to do--take the van load of donated goods to the thrift store, and then some grocery shopping for our noonday meal, a meal to be shared with Ashley’s new boyfriend, who had been convinced to come to our house and hang out. Luckily, he waited until noon for his mom to bring him. Otherwise he would have been dragooned into the chain gang.

Anyway, as the kids did their work, I got on my clothes and then noticed that Rebecca had left the vacuum cleaner in the den. ::sigh:: “Remember, you can put this up when you’re finished.” Blank look. I picked it up and went to put it in the utility closet and ::urmph:: Couldn’t. ::mmhph:: Quite. ::erm:: Get it to go in just right. AHHH. It was hanging up on the box of trash bags in the bottom of the closet--I squatted down and moved them out of the way and the bottom of the vacuum cleaner plopped neatly into place. And the handle neatly swung in an arc that intersected directly into the left lens of my eyeglasses, driving it cleanly into the fleshy part of my eyeball orbit.

Ouch.

A LOT! More like a cow getting stunned than anything else. It happened too quickly to stop it, yet slow enough to where I should have known better. I examined my glasses and nothing was broken or cracked, but I have YET to get them fixed back the way they were, and have a raging headache because my lenses aren’t quite right. Oh well.

I got ready to go to make my donation run, got the keys to Moby from the kitchen cabinet and headed out the door, walking slightly sideways due to my ocular hallucinations. Opened the door, started to settle in by swinging my right leg in, and WHAM! I kicked the parking brake pedal with the toenail tip of my large toe.

Ouch. And then some.

Even though I had on a pair of shoes (being that we in the South DO actually wear them on occasion) it felt like I had kicked a brick with my bare foot. Caught it at just the right angle, apparently. Later on that night I examined the piggy that went to the market and found that he was suffering an astoundingly severe-looking crack diagonally across himself. He is still quite sore.

But, not being one to let being blind and lame stop me, I went on to my appointed rounds, which included a stop at the credit union service center to make a deposit. It contained a very angry woman screaming something about the check being a payroll check, and she said many naughty words. She obviously has never been to this facility before--it’s something of a clearinghouse for all the different credit unions in town. But one thing is certain--about the only thing you can do is make a deposit. They are very chary with their liquid funds, and cashing a check, even one that is a payroll check, is a near impossibility. I think Screaming Fat Woman was running a scam, though. She got very huffy and cussy and then left. I remarked to no one in particular after she was safely out the door that I think if I was her, I would have made sure to have gone to her real bank YESTERDAY. Which got a pretty good response. I stopped there, though--you know what they way, go out on top. Finally got to the teller, and very nearly had to start screaming and cussing at her to make a deposit. She finally figured out that I was not Reba, but she was my wife. And part of the checking account. ::sigh::

On to the grocery store, but more about that later--right now, I have to go meet Miss Reba for lunch. Seems she has some sort of top secret news that she has to share with me. Sounds like it could be Not A Good Thing. But we’ll see, now won’t we?
posted by Terry at 11:49:00 AM