Emergencies

Dear Grace,

My word, it has been an age. My only excuse is that work and cub scouts and Abe’s knee injury and dance team and cleaning the house and folding the laundry has just been too overwhelming lately. Especially the laundry. I need it to fold itself. Last week I rewashed a whole batch because I let it sit in the basket so long it was just a sad heap of wrinkles. Honestly, I am not sure if my life could possibly get any busier, but I thought that when I was in high school so apparently it can get busier.

Last night Abe and I had an impromptu date to the emergency room. After I finished our cub scout meeting where I spent an hour yelling at eight-year-olds to “put that burning piece of cardboard back on the fire!” and “get over here and practice your stupid skit!” and “for goodness sake, stop chasing the turkeys!”, Abe called me and asked if I would like to take him to the emergency room because why not? Although the surgery was nearly two months ago, he has still been in a lot of pain and his leg is still swollen. His cousin (who works as a nurse) pinpointed many signs of Abe possibly having a blood clot, so I was glad to take a trip to the emergency room. We were at the hospital for about three hours waiting for various nurses and doctors and tests and results. In the meantime, I caught the tail-end of the World Series and then fell asleep several times, but did my best to act like I wasn’t when anyone would burst through the “room’s” shower curtain. The good news is that Abe does not have a blood clot, and we were out of the hospital by midnight. The bad news is that we don’t know why Abe isn’t healing properly.

The other bad news is that I didn’t have any of my plans ready for school the next day, and it was going to be a big, important day at school. Some big head honchos for our school’s honors program were coming out to observe and interview teachers to make sure the program is running as it ought to. This is my first year as a teacher for that program, and I still don’t know what I am supposed to do. Some of my students the week before complained that my classroom was not decorated to their level of satisfaction (that is to say that it is not decorated at all), and spent almost an entire class period advising me about acceptable adjustments. I ought to have listened because these head honchos stopped by my classroom earlier this morning took a glance at my bare walls and didn’t even stick around for my inspiring speech about Macbeth. I hope none of their questions tomorrow go deeper than “What’s your name?” and “How are you?” or “Why didn’t you decorate your walls?”

So last night instead of going home and planning for my big, important day, we stopped at Jack-in-the-Box for some artery-clogging burgers and fries. Who needs to be prepared anyway?

Chat soon,

Millie

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