Archive for June 24th, 2015

Sometimes life gives you a heads up when a rough patch is coming. Little signals warning that perhaps staying in bed with the covers over your head might be a good idea. Such was the case yesterday.

I received my warning while sipping my morning tea and watching the birds play in the bird bath in our Serenity Garden. A young bluebird dropped dead in the birdbath. Right then and there I should have gone upstairs, rearranged the yarn vault and made a space for myself, sat down in said space and closed the door.   Instead I buried the poor thing and called the local Audubon Society to see if anything unusual was happening with the birds these days. They had not received reports of masses of birds blue or otherwise dying in the area.

Not heeding the warning of the powers-that-be that I was the bug and the rest of the world the windshield for a day I turned on my computer to find I didn’t have a computer. I had a black screen, but not a computer. Of course my whole life is on that computer. I started hyperventilating. So I searched and found a plain brown paper bag that I could breathe into just before I passed out. What good is backing up all your info when what goes wrong with the computer prevents you from ever accessing the info or the restore point? These were just some of the thoughts that ran through my head as a breathed in and out, the paper bag soothingly crinkling which each breath.

Once my breathing was under control, I got in the car (mistake) and went to the pharmacy to pick up the heartburn medication the doctor prescribed. He seems to think my acid reflux is coming from the hit the esophagus took from the radiation treatments for my breast cancer and the routine stress in my life. Stress? What stress?

The pharmacy was open but not working. It had some strange power failure 10 minutes before I arrived and no medications were being dispensed because all their systems were down. I could feel my esophagus release more acid in delight.

I went back to the car and began to drive to the place where my computer will hopefully be repaired. No soon had I gotten on the highway then the “check engine” light came on and a strange metal on metal sound came from somewhere under the hood. What I know about cars is when something goes wrong I need someone other than me to fix it. Hence I turned around and the car squealed all the way home.

By now my entire esophagus was bathing itself in acid, like a diva in a bubble bath. The Skipper said the car wasn’t terminal. If I didn’t want it to squeal I needed to shut of the air conditioner. It was 87 F / 30.5 C with close to the same dense, suffocating humidity one finds in an Amazon Rain Forest. Driving without air conditioning was not an option. He made an appointment with the mechanic for next week.

Today I am getting into that forsaken car again. I will try to get my medicine then I will try to drop off the computer to be fixed. Oh yes, and I will return my now over due books to the library. But before all that, I will call the vet because Yarn Rascal just chewed up an ant bait trap. I hate being the bug.

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