I’d Ask You to Hold My Hair If I Had Any

I have a few updates for all of you nice folks, and because I have my first hangover in many a year they’ll be brief.

(Shut up. I only drank four beers. But I hadn’t really had any beer in quite awhile. And I don’t have to explain myself to you)

(It was hot)

(I was thirsty)

(They were there)

(And I’m hoarding bottled water to make coffee and tea and Jonas formula due to well sediment again)

Cross Thy Fingers Please

Tomorrow at 130pm I am to present myself to one of the best spine surgeons in the area for evaluation to see if my back injury is operable. I’m in misery, I’m having to take too much medication, and I’m having neurological issues with my legs. I need good thoughts, people. First I’m terrified that I won’t be a candidate for surgery, and I’ll be stuck like this forever. Second I’m terrified that I will be a candidate for surgery, and that means general anesthesia and someone knifing around near my spinal cord.

So I’m kind of ascared.

And I could use as many good thoughts and well wishes and prayers to your higher power as possible.

Thank ye.

Problem Solving Skillz. I Has Dem.

Yesterday I was eaten by a lawn chair while watching Livvie play in her pool.

It had nothing to do with the beer, and everything to do with the age of and weather damage to the seat of the chair.

Swear.

I was sitting with my laptop in my, um, lap, and the seat tore next to my left hip. Ok, maybe if I hadn’t had the beer I’d have gotten up immediately, but I didn’t, and then the entire left half of the seat tore under my ass and I got wedged into the frame with my legs dangling out.

So I tweeted for help, and none came.

I couldn’t ask Livvie for help, because she was soaking wet and would ruin my laptop.

Rich was inside (I now want walkie talkies).

So I eventually put my computer on the ground, rocked sideways, tipped over, and crawled out. While I was trapped I became a feast for the mosquito population, and today I am muy itchy and want nothing more than an oatmeal bath and calamine.

But I got out.

Satan’s Laughtop

Any mom of small children will tell you that when the batteries start to go in any of the thousand and forty-two battery operated toys in the house the voices and/or music will start to slow down until what you hear is a disturbing combination of “I buried Paul (cranberry sauce)” and “Eat Mor Batz.”

But what about when the batteries are fresh, and for some reason the toy simply turns itself on at random?

And only in the middle of the night?

We’d been having trouble with an old See n’ Say Baby that Coyote’s mom gave Livvie at her first Christmas. Often in the middle of the night it would suddenly begin tinkling “Mary Had a Little Lamb” or one of the other songs, and this almost always happened right after I had gotten Jonas back to sleep.

Now the Fisher Price Laughtop has gotten in on the action.

I was lying in bed last night around 1am, and I could have sworn I heard a faint, “Welcome to your tune maker! THANKS for logging on!”

I ignored it, because I thought I was drunk and hearing things.

I was drunk, but I wasn’t hearing things.

I continued to hear music. I tossed the covers aside and walked to the family room where a green glow was coming from the floor.

The toy was on. It was in the middle of playing a letter game by that point, which made no sense because it had just piped up about the “Tune Maker” option being set, and I leaned over and picked it up.

The dog was asleep in our room. Not the culprit.

I switched off the toy and looked in on Livvie. Out cold.

So I shut the damn thing and got back in bed, and I shut my eyes and pretended none of it had ever happened.

In Case You Missed It

I posted a short story yesterday.

I’m still working on the demon scarecrow story.

And now I leave you to pray to my porcelain God.

Later.