Mostly True Memoirs

Time Suck

The day is half done, and I haven’t gotten a darn thing accomplished.

The thing they never tell you about diabetes is what a time suck it is.

You not only have to manage the medical end of it, you also have to manage the business end of it.

And lucky me – I’ve got twice the fun with two diabetic kids.

You can’t opt out.

You can’t end the call.

You can’t take your business elsewhere.

Well you can, but only with prior insurance authorization.

And good luck with that.

It’s going to be one of those days.

I think I’m going to need a burrito to get me through this.

How many carbs is that?

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Mostly True Memoirs

The Storm of the Century

Yesterday was the Storm of the Century.

It had been hyped in the news all week.

It looked like the brunt of the storm was going to hit to the east of us.

Sure enough, by the end of the day, all we had gotten was some drizzle.

The Grown Son decided to take the dog for a walk before dinner.

While they were out, the Storm of the Century screamed alive with gusto.

Wind, thunder, lightening and an absolute deluge of rain blasted down all at once.

“Are they still out there?” The Husband asked me, shouting over the storm.

“Yep.” I hollered back.

He drove out to rescue them, and eventually returned home with everyone soaking wet.

Even The Husband, who was driving, was soaking wet.

I’m not sure how that happened.

The dog was freaked out.

She huddled in a towel, shivering, on my lap.

She’s an old girl, and not so enthusiastic about exercise on a good day.

We may never get her back on a walk again.

This morning we even had a bit of snow.

Again, the dog was not amused.

I think we have entered a new phase of Cranky Old Dog.

Thanks to the Storm of the Century.

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Mostly True Memoirs

Clean Freak

The Grown Son has been staying with us for a few months because he transferred his job to our city.

He will be moving into his own place in two weeks.

Up until this point, he has been a pretty thoughtful housemate.

He has kept his bathroom sort of clean, and he has kind of picked up after himself in the kitchen.

But now he has a short-timer’s attitude.

The bathroom is a wreck.

Dishes are everywhere.

Laundry has exploded into places where laundry shouldn’t be.

Two more weeks, two more weeks…

Two more weeks and then I can get my clean freak on.

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