Happy We Kicked Some British Arse 235 Years Ago Day
My brain is soup. I’ve worked overtime every day except Sunday, plus Saturday, plus today. And I’m going to do it all over again starting tomorrow. The good news is I made about 55% of my weekly check in just 6 hours today (holiday pay, plus double time, plus incentive pay). The bad news is I’m probably going to die soon.
Because I’ve been working so much, I kind of collapsed yesterday. I was so tired I took a 4 hour nap. And left my phone in the other room. Set to vibrate. Because I’m a moron. So when my mom’s home health agency called me, I didn’t hear it. And I didn’t hear it when MMB called. Or when she texted me. And when I finally got up and was about to take a long, hot shower, I just happened to walk into the computer room and saw my phone on my desT©. I saw the text first, which said, “The agency is worried about Mom, please go check on her. I told them to call 911 then call me back.”
WHAT THE … ?
I threw my clothes back on, raced to my car, forgot my phone, ran back upstairs, then jumped back in my car and put it in R for “Race” then D for “Destroy anything that gets in the way” Then I called MMB as I was flying across town. I was in full freak-out mode, which means I was not feeling a damn thing. It’s weird how you go on auto-pilot, isn’t it? I wasn’t scared. I wasn’t panicked. I was simply going to make a 10 minute drive in 2 minutes flat. But then I got MMB and she told me the crisis had been averted. Whew.
Seems MoC had another brainfuckitis episode while the weekend day person was there. She was falling asleep in the middle of a sentence, was extremely wobbly and weak and couldn’t stay awake. So 3:00 pm came and Barb left. What? But then she decided she was really worried about MoC, so she called the agency to ask them what to do … which is when they called me. Then they called David, but he is out of town and probably had his phone shut off. Then they called MMB. The agency told Barb to go back to MoC’s apartment, and then the agency called 911. When they got there, they decided there was no medical emergency. Which is fantastic.
By the time I got there, I was doing a slow burn. I blow off a lot on this blog. I am bitchy in person. I am snippy at times. But when I’m really, seriously fucking pissed? I am completely calm and I could slit your throat without blinking. (Dear FBI: I’ve never slit anyone’s throat without blinking. I mean, I probably would blink. I mean I didn’t slit anyone’s throat. For God’s sake! It’s hyperbole. Sort of) I walked in and said, “Hey MoC, I heard you wanted to look at some hot paramedics so you made Barb call 911.” Which made MoC smile, but made Barb fall all over herself trying to explain.
I let her talk until she realized I wasn’t reacting. Then I said, very calmly, “If you were worried, why did you leave?”
She stammered and stuttered and MoC saved her because MoC is nicer than I am. I didn’t yell at her. I just asked my question and said nothing more. I am pretty sure I made my point. I plan on talking to MoC about getting someone else. Even though she made it right by calling the agency, she never should have left. If MoC had been having a stroke … it doesn’t bear thinking about.
In other news, being a wanton whore isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. I had a lot of fun on the dates and in some ways it was exactly what I needed. I really, really needed to escape myself for a bit and Mrs. Married gave me that. I didn’t expect to feel anything, one way or the other. I know myself exceedingly well and yet I still manage to surprise myself at times – I didn’t feel very good about it. I kind of felt like I had sold my soul. And since I no longer do things that don’t make me feel good about myself … that’s that.
And now the video for the song lyric in the title …