Robert’s leg is navy blue this time. Another x-ray; another inconclusive; another probing with very definite pain. Thursday he is scheduled for a cat scan; the doctor would prefer an MRI but since he has metal in his leg, that is not possible. At least with the cast on, the leg will be stabilized and if something has been constantly irritating it, things  should get better.

We were like the Keystone Kops in the various parts of the office. (And, yes, Der Bingle, I realize this also fits your comment on this morning’s post: No one under age 50 has a clue what Tobacco Road is and never will unless someone makes a video game about it.)

We go in, Robert on his roll-a-bout and me carrying two Kindles, his phone and my purse. Oh, yeah, an unopened  Zero Coke. Then add to that his shoe and sock after the x-ray.

On the way to the casting room, the nurse turned at the last moment and Robert tried to follow, but wound up kissing the wall. Then while he’s on the table and I’m balanced on a little chair, my cell phone rang and to answer it I needed to open my purse, which caused me to drop his phone, which slid under a chair. While bending over, I realized the Zero Coke was in the little poncho pocket of my shirt; I had been walking around like this – jeez. So I put it in his shoe.

And we must have been contagious because the tech putting the cast on was startled when HIS phone rang in his scrubs pocket. “It was supposed to be on vibrate,” he exclaimed as he fished it out. Only as he was pulling it out, it caught on something and flipped in the air; he attempted a juggling catch and failed and it went SPLAT on the tiles. He said, “Mondays.”

Yeah

Yesterday when we cleaned the garage, we attacked the corner where some afghans, blankets and jackets were tossed after dirty car rides – or other dreaded accidents. And I started washing these big items now that the washer has been repaired and no longer bangs itself to near-oblivion unless babied with half loads.

We put the wet large things over the fence to dry.

Well, I didn’t know it was going to rain last night. Now I have a fence that looks like a giant towel that soaked up a sink overflow. Fortunately this is not a boundary fence. Still, seeing it in the dim light of a rainy dawn was a bummer.

I hope the weight of water-soaked comforters does not pull the fence down. That would be bad. As it is, we must wait for  the rain to stop and the stuff to drip some until we can tote it back in the house. That will not be anytime soon since it is supposed to rain all day.

Guess I won’t be calling the repairmen while the area between the driveway and back yard resembles wash day on Tobacco Road. *

* Out of curiosity – and no desire to get moving today – I looked up Tobacco Road on Wikipedia to refresh my knowledge. It’s even more despairing than I remembered  – especially this comment:

While fleeing from Ada and Jeeter’s onslaught, Dude backs right over Grandma Lester, who then lies mashed into the dirt road, near dead. (Mashed. Mashed. Kind of gets your attention; well, I guess she didn’t pass away in the road – she was passed over. Was this chick trying to cross the road and crossed over? Ah, puns and euphemisms. )

The article is HERE, but it’s not a mood-lifter.