The humans of the weaker sex left at 4am to drive back to the Mistake on the Lake for MC’s TEE (an ultrasound transducer is shoved down the throat to get a better view of the aortic valve) after Thursday’s terrible echo results. Spoiler alert: he’s fine. It was a poor quality study. The regurgitation is actually what’s expected after valve repair (about 10% over what is considered normal) and should improve in time after he is completely healed up.
I didn’t sleep last night, thanks to having nearly every single muscle group in my body going into spasm. From neck to toes, hip flexors included. Ah, what a blast. My seasonal rash has started too, only it’s the wrong fucking season for it. I was/am a spastic, itchy ball of fun.
I finally settled back into bed around 10am and had high hopes for a two hour nap. The problem being, I wasn’t alone. Oh no, I was trapped here with Harpy who was shitting herself over baby boy’s imminent death.
I don’t freak out until I have all of the facts and even then, to freak out is out of character for me unless it’s regarding someone eating the last of my ice cream. She is not me. If she were, I’d put a gag in my mouth to see if it’d effectively get her to stfu. She was knocking on the bedroom door every 10 minutes, attempting to phish some comforting words out of me, or it’s possible by bugging me, she was hoping I’d break her skull with a heavy object to put her out of her misery.
At noon I gave up on the daydream of sleep, took a handful of drugs, began the coffee guzzling, and continued work on my dad’s Christmas gift. I paused a few times to do laundry and dishes because the shit piles up to the point of becoming a hot zone when everyone else is rendered useless by being a man, or being completely consumed by hysteria. Everyone except me.
Around dinner time, she waltzed into my makeshift lair and invited me to go gift shopping with her. I told her I was exhausted and just wanted to hang out with my yarn and Hulu.
“Aren’t you bored???”
“I don’t get bored.”
She used my statement as an opportunity to show me what happens when I decline a gracious invitation. It seems in the Harpypedia, boredum is linked to intellect: the more difficult it is to keep a person entertained, the greater the person’s intelligence. Since I don’t get bored, I’m simple minded. How nice it must be to be simple! Yup, it’s superb.