Last post, when I was sort of complaining about having a quiet week and writer's block ... what an idiot. After posting, I went upstairs to take a shower and heard weird buzzing sounds coming from my daughter's room. I poked my heard around her door looking for the source and found 179 bees frantically making themselves at home. I know the exact number because I counted them the next day when I vaccuumed their dead corpses (are their any other kind of corpses?) off her curtains and rug. I don't know why I counted. I was just curious I guess.
But, wait, there's more! Rewind. I saw the bees, shut her door, went to take a shower, then gathered my things to make a quick drive into town to pick up bee traps and a nest-destroying chemical flame-thrower. Just as I was closing the door, I heard the phone ring. It was the school nurse to say that my son had suffered a minor concussion at school. Apparently, while standing and attempting to retain a pencil moustache on his upper lip, he leaned backwards and sat down, missing his chair, and hitting his head on the chair then the floor.
Fortunately, he was fine. In fact, when I picked him up from the nurse's station he's was flirting outrageously with a fourth grade girl. Still, a concussion is a concussion, meaning no physical activities for a week AFTER the last headache. He missed all the soccer try-outs and I had to add faxing them the dr's report to my to-do list. He missed the state-mandated hearing tests because of the the almost constant ringing in his ears.
Do bad things happen in threes? I really hope not. Maybe I can count the general state of my hair as my third giant disaster.
I will NEVER again complain about life's quiter moments.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment