Saturday, July 19, 2014

Je Suis Prest

Like any good scout, I'm prepared.

I learned the hard way.

Today, we needed to call the after-hours service about a disturbing symptom Mr. Simply was having (on a Saturday, of course -- when else?) and my cell phone would not dial out. Would. Not. I had zero bars, and for whatever reason, Wi-Fi calling wasn't working either. I had 4G -- too bad I can't communicate with Mr. Simply's oncologist via Facebook.

No problem, right? I'll just use the house phone! So I did, and left my message and our number, and waited. And waited. And waited.

It seems we have Call Blocking. Who knew?

So I turned it off, and called back and left another message. And it was at that point that I believe the battery must have died (because I left the phone laying out on the coffee table last night). We only have the one wireless. So of course we didn't hear back. I plugged it in, then couldn't leave the room because as we all know, I can't run to the phone if it rings. But it was too late.

In the meantime, the symptom went away. We decided to have dinner. And I re-booted my cell phone. It took two tries, but it does work now.

Last time I was at the hospital, Tillie (my scooter) started stopping randomly -- usually in the middle of electronically-operated doors. And so I had meant to break her down and see if there was a loose connection somewhere, which is what happened once before. Except I was frigging exhausted and never got around to doing it. So here we are, on a rainy Saturday afternoon, with phones that won't work and  a sick man and a scooter I can't trust. . . Can't you just see the bitch quitting on me while I'm crossing the street in front of the ER??

So out I go, unload her from the van, tear her down, fortunately it's not raining right this two seconds, find the loose connection (exactly the same one as last time), repair it (I hope), put her back together, load her back in the van. Hopefully now if we do wind up going to the hospital tonight, she'll run.

But that's not all!

I really like to have what I call Pajama Days, in which I do not get dressed. At all. All day. And this has been such a difficult week what with Mr. Simply being in the hospital and all, that I had planned a Pajama Weekend. My pjs, all freshly washed and fluffy and soft, were laid out on the bed before I turned out the lights last night, and my plan was to put them on this morning and not take them off again until I had to go back to work on Monday.


Here's the new rule: Get showered and get dressed. 'Cause you never know.


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