Wednesday, September 28, 2011

What a day, part one

I've been up nearly 20 hours. I'm physically exhausted, hurting, but mentally so alert that sleep is a good ways away. It's been a heck of a day.

I woke this morning at 5:30. With a doctor's appointment in Nashville, I wanted to make myself look good before my three hour drive. I've been concerned, had a list of questions ready, and dealing with instant menopause has really brought out my anxiety. Looking good helps me feel more confident. Also, the last time my tall, dark and handsome gyn-oncologist saw me, I was less than 24 hours post-op, in a typically chic hospital gown, and my hair was sticking out in every direction it could. Not that I have designs on this young man, but no one wants that image to be the one that someone holds of you.

I headed to the bathroom to start getting ready. That included taking hand washables out of the sink. When I started to wring them out, the sink collapsed through the bathroom counter, the pipes underneath broke, and a jet of water started shooting straight up. Now, remember this is 5:30 in the morning, I live alone, and it's still dark outside. After several futile attempts to turn off the water, I'm panicking. Who can I call this early? No plumber is going to answer the phone. The only person I can think of is the guy who's done my yard this summer. Over the last few months, he, his girlfriend and I have made inroads to becoming friends, but we're far from close.

Within minutes, he's over here and wrestling with that contrary knob. He can't turn it off either and goes to turn off the water outside. The only problem is he doesn't have a tool to lift the metal lid. Back in he comes, tries again and then asks for a towel to try to contain the geyser. That finally works, and he gets the water off. That's when we both notice the hole that my spontaneous bathroom fountain punched in the ceiling, and that the popcorn textured ceiling paint is hanging in sheets. Water is dripping from all over the ceiling. It's running down the walls. It's pouring out of the light fixtures and my plugged in hair dryer. We're both drenched, standing in an inch of water, I'm wearing only the swimming suit cover I use as a housecoat, and the sun hasn't come up yet.

There was only one thing I could say, "Well, fuck-a-doodle-doo."


Blogger Robin said...




September 28, 2011 7:39 AM  
Blogger Lisa :-] said...

You gotta think things can only get better... :)

September 28, 2011 9:59 AM  

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