1. The Full Moon Thing.
I know -- "luna"tics, "luna"cy, werewolves. . . heck, pagans have a holiday for the full moon, don't they? It shouldn't be true, but it just is, so hush. Kid not sleeping well tonight? E.R. full of people with crazy weird injuries? Betcha it's a full moon. . . if you've ever been a teacher, a mom, or a healthcare provider, you believe me. Maybe it's the atmosphere or the devil or whatever, but full moon=craziness at night, man. HOWWWWWL!
2. The Mondays.
We've all had them -- days that just stink. They start off badly, they end badly, and we lose it at some point and want to curl back up in the bed and try getting up again and start over. And those days . .. lemme just ask. . . aren't they always Mondays? I had one yesterday. I wrote to a dear friend that my day this past Monday was frightful, but probably could be entertaining to someone on the outside looking in. So, why not . . .
This past Monday, I woke up and felt like poopie to begin with (Woody was up at 12, 3, 5), but I actually had Ellie up, the boys changed and fed, and I was halfway ready myself by 7, which is pretty good for us. We had an appointment for Woody in Bossier City at the neurosurgeon to follow-up on his second shunt revision (BOOOO), but my appointment card showed a date and no time. I figured I'd just call on the way to be sure -- they always make it some time between 9 and 10 anyway.
We got in the car at 8. . . no gas. Of course. Gassed up, and ready to go (late). I grabbed my coffee cup (coffeee. . . . . .glorious coffeeeeee) and it was a cup I don't usually use. Yep. I was drinking from the wrong part of the cup. The boiling-freaking-hot coffee came out and poured down my chin onto my chest (all while I was driving through town). I squealed and tried not to wreck my mini-van. I wondered what to do (I felt like I had been showered in acid). My face in the rearview mirror looked like I had been laying out at the beach and forgot to put sunscreen on my chin, neck, and chest -- no lie. I was beet red, not to mention I was going to a place of business with coffee all down my front. Do I need to get first aid ointment of some type? Where could I stop? I'd have to get both babies out of the car to do that, and we're late. Crud. Oh well, surely it'll be ok.
On I-49 about 8:15 (several miles north of town) I called the doc to check on the appointment time. No answer. That's odd, I thought. Try again. No answer. I let it ring through to the answering service: "Ma'am, they're closed today for Columbus Day."
Columbus Day? Really? Some Italian mistakenly lands in the Bahamas centuries ago and suddenly I'm on the interstate with twins for no reason? So, instead, we go to physical therapy (which I had cancelled for my non-existant appointment in Shreveport). The boys cry all the way through their session (30 bucks co-pay down the drain), since they were grumpy and tired from being in their carseats for 40 minutes -- FOR NO REASON -- either that or they were frightened by the jacked up appearance of their coffee-burnt caregiver.
Still don't believe in the Mondays?
