As I mentioned in a previous post, we cannot begin work on the TV/sewing room until the exterior repairs have been “proven” by a good hard rain. We have now had the first September since 1914 without a single named storm to come through Maryland. This could go all winter.
I am to have pretty serious surgery on Monday, so my neurologist and I decided to do an injection in my back before then, as it has been about nine months since the last shot, and they normally only hold for three to six months. That was to have been done on the 22nd. We have to do these injections for pain management, as the bottom four discs of my back as completely blown, and nobody will operate on them.
Last Friday I started with a UTI, and Saturday morning I hied myself to the local Doc-in-a-Box for a course of Macrobid. (See How to Get Killed) Today, my girlfriend took me to the neurologist, as The Squire had an eye doctor appointment. He is prone to spontaneous detached retinas, and I’d rather sit out in the waiting room with a friend than have a blind husband. I’d been NPO since I crawled out of bed at 7:30, it is now 9:30, and the doctor says he won’t do the injection because of the danger of meningitis. Perfectly reasonable, and I was glad he took that attitude, but I’m starving. We headed over to Einstein Brothers for bagels and coffee, and then to the hospital for one last test for the surgery on Monday – and I can’t find the bloody paper work. Back to the doctor’s office for a duplicate, and then back to the hospital for a MRSA nasal swab. The technician showed me a Q-tip, but I think she had a drill bit concealed behind her back. Lawsy! The backs of my eyeballs itched.
Last Thursday I went to a luncheon with a group of British friends, to meet and greet two members who have moved away, and to have a baby shower for Princess Charlotte; the gifts are given to a local charity. When we left the restaurant, I opened my trunk to put away my purse, and all of the other ladies dropped in their gifts. “You’ll see to it that these get to Birthright, won’t you?” And I cheerfully agreed.
The trouble is that I had NO where Birthright was. As it happens, it is in Bel Air, and I am the only person in the group who doesn’t live in or near town. I went up today, got as royally lost as it is possible to get in a small town full of one-way streets, which do not always cross the main drag. You are driving down Gordon Street, headed for the other side, when you come to a sign saying “Right turn only” Lovely, Getting to the other side of Gordon can involve driving four blocks to the next street that is going your way; the town fathers seem to have run three east, and then three west. Or if you are trying to get cross town, then it is four north and four south. Going around the block can involve driving miles.
And then today, The Squire had gone up to take a nap just before I left to run errand today. He was in a lot of pain and had taken some strong medicine, so when I left I turned on the alarm. He woke up, got the leash, and took the dog out to get the mail. He did not realize I had armed the house until the police officer pulled into the driveway. The alarm is loud enough the officer could hear it from the road. I suppose we’ll get another nasty letter from the county about wasting police resources.
It’s like being stoned to death with pop-corn.
thisendoftheswamp 
“As I mentioned in a previous post, we cannot begin work on the TV/sewing room until the exterior repairs have been “proven” by a good hard rain.” This seems to be a case of beware of what you wish for.