How's that for a title? Sorry, it's the best I can do. I've been on pins and needles, just waiting for that other shoe to drop. You know, when you remember, after two bad things, that bad things come in threes...and you wait...and wait...and then you start remembering other things that might be bad, but you aren't sure. You hope they were bad so you can say that you have your quota, that three bad things have happened, but you really aren't so sure...
Like this: My grandson, JR, broke his hand. Okay, that's one. Then Kailyn broke her ankle. Clearly that's two. So there i am, waiting for three.
Then yesterday I was carrying the trash out to the can and the bottom broke in the bag and trash spilled all over the driveway. Is that three? I was hoping so, but not sure, so I waited a bit.
Mark calls to tell me that he had to stop by his old office (he is still technically on-call and has to help train his replacement) for a minute and then he'll be on his way home. I am still wary, so I warn him to be careful. He says he will.
Twenty minutes later he calls to tell me that even though he's stuck in traffic half way home, he has to turn around and go back. He grabbed the wrong laptop. Is that three? Nah, can't be.
Dinner was delicious. There is no way I can consider it a disaster. After dinner, we clear the table and Mark, who is feeling guilty because he is going out of town tonight for business, says he'll load the dish washer and finish the kitchen. I hear him turn on the dish washer as I open the bathroom door to brush my teeth.
The toilet is making a gurgling sound. I turn and lift the lid just in time to see Mt. Vesuvius erupting out of the toilet. Water everywhere, I scream. That frightens Mark who runs to the hall, frightening the dog who scared the cat who in turn ran though the living room, delaying Mark who is armed with rags, a plunger and paper towels.
As we clean up the mess, we discuss Jeff, the plumber, how the roots of trees must be holding this entire acre in place, about dinner and suddenly I stop...now, clearly, this is a catastrophe...but is it #3 period, or is it 3, 4 and 5? That would make it 3, 1 and 2, wouldn't it?
I slept well, so I must not have worried too much. I woke this morning to find a note on my desk from my husband. It said:
Hi! Holiday Inn tonite, can't remember town. Call Holly or Sue at office if youNow I'll admit, I was sleep befuddled and did not think that we have a cat named Princess who occasionally throws up. That possibly could be described as Princess puking, but no, I thought he had fumbled on yet another unflattering pet name for me.
need to know, or call my cell.
I'll call you tonight,
I love you, princess puking
I immediately fired off a text message to his cell phone:
I love you too, King Caca.
I think him not understanding that I did not understand could easily be described as our third catastrophe.
I give up! Going to bed. goodnightiloveyouseeyoutomorrow!!!!