Mercy

Well, let’s see. Alison’s back was acting up and she had a nerve block and a bolt on  the roll-a-bout sheared off and Robert collapsed onto the concrete of the vestibule, smacking his cast.  We spent over three hours in the ER last night. Summer’s been sick for three days.

But it’s a new day, right? Robert’s cat scan is at 8:45 this morning and this afternoon I am taking two people to doctors in Fort Wayne on different sides of town at about the same time. Drop one of early with a Kindle, drive the other one cross-town and then bring that one back to pick up the first drop-off. Oh, yeah, it’s around rush hour.

On top of everything else, I was idly staring at one of those new shapely little Coke bottles and got the idea that maybe I could spray paint the empties and stick them into a jack-0-latern to be ears or spikes or  whatever. People laughed at me. Oh, they of little faith.

I’m 63;  people have laughed at my ideas, but guess how many  have turned out quite well? A LOT. I feel like Rodney Dangerfield – well, I don’t feel dead yet, but  you understand. I may just drag Robert’s leg around with me and beat some people over the head with the cast.

Hmmmmph!