Tuesday, December 17, 2013

This should be covered in pre-wedding counseling.

Let's talk about marital relations. Specifically, relating to your spouse in bed.

Yes. I'm talking about relating to your spouse in light of various and sundry electronics in bed.

First, there was the smartphone. My Guy would read and fall asleep with his phone propped up on his chest, or held sort of catty-whompus by his side. Because I am a night owl and always fall asleep last, I would oh-so-helpfully take the phone. Because I'm a giver, and I don't want My Guy to get a black eye from a phone falling on his sleeping face.

However, he soon became very possessive of the phone, and would berate me for "stealing" it. He would half-heartedly sleep-yell, "Mah PHONE" as I attempted to lift the phone.

Even though "Mah PHONE" amused me to no end, I tried to just let it be. He'd fall asleep, and Mah PHONE would end up buried in the bed, or it would careen into his forehead. It was mostly funny.

However, things really escalated with the arrival of the Kindle. That sucker is bigger than Mah PHONE, and with a world of books at his fingertips, My Guy is even more likely to try to read with his eyes closed. This means that he's even crabbier about me "stealing" it when he's "just resting and gonna read more."

In the spirit of Christmas, things have escalated as of late.

The other day, as we settled into bed, My Guy mentioned off-handedly, "If you try to steal my Kindle tonight, Imma punch you in the fallopian tube."

About 3 minutes later, he was asleep, with the Kindle perched on his chest. I didn't touch it. However, about 2 minutes after that, he snorted himself awake, batted his arms about ... and managed to knock my book into my face.

Obviously, it's now on like Donkey Kong. Our bed is a battlefield.

I threaten to steal the Kindle. He just looks at me and says, "I'll punch you in the tube."

I can't sleep when he's not here.

Ours is a love that is true.

Tuesday, December 10, 2013

Adventures in fashion and furnace repair.

You know how once you get really cold in your bones, it's nearly impossible to get warmed up?

Yeah. And you're super-cold because your year-old furnace is out and you can't sleep because it's so cold and you even let your gigantic labradoodle sleep on the bed with you but instead of warming you up, he just kicks you throughout the night, and the furnace guys return your call at 7 a.m., which is a good sign, but they can't give you even a guesstimate as to when they will show up at your house because it's cold as hell and lots of people are in the same crappy boat as you with furnaces that don't work, so you're in for a day of freezing and waiting for your furnace savior to show up?

Yeah. And you ask yourself, "What's the appropriate attire for these festivities?"

There is nothing worse than being improperly dressed. I overcame the challenge, and you can, too.

If you're like me, you can't face showering when the temperature in your bathroom is hovering in the frozen-pipes range. So, you have an automatic, greasy base for your fashion.

Pull your Crisco-esque hair back in a fashionable plastic clip, much like those you sported in junior high. Then, because you're absolutely kidding yourself into thinking that all furnace madness will be remedied soon and you can eventually go to the gym to warm up, start with a base layer of gym clothes.

Next? Put on another shirt - preferably the shirt you wore yesterday. And then, because you really need to do laundry, top that off with the fleece pajama top you slept in. Pull a pair of paint-covered pants over your workout pants and you're set.

This ensemble will carry you through all parts of your day:
  • Blatantly exploiting your dachshunds' body heat by cramming them inside your clothes
  • Crying on the phone to your husband, who is in freakin' FLORIDA for work
  • Praying for serenity as you realize that in each of the 3 times the furnace tech used your bathroom, he did not wash his hands, even though we can all agree that all wang-related tasks should involve hand washing
  • Sneaking out to the hardware store buy a space heater after the furnace tech leaves your house, beaten, at 7:30 p.m.
  • Realizing that you would make a shitty pioneer and would probably die on the trail of dysentery, just like in "Oregon Trail"
  • Randomly moaning, "I'm wearing 2 pairs of pants" throughout the day, as if this were code for "my life is crap"
And ... you're welcome.

That was yesterday. Today, after additional tech visits, the furnace appears to be heating the house ... although I've been hurt before, so it's difficult to really let my guard down and believe.

Better yet? Thanks to the space heater, I was able to shower this morning. And I found my long underwear, so only 1 pair of pants today.

World? You're welcome.

Sunday, December 8, 2013

My heart isn't the only thing that's cold.

I'm compiling the index for an academic book right now. Yes, the life of a freelance writer/editor IS that exciting.

The good news is that I find the task rather delightful. It speaks to my nitpicky editorial OCD. And I love having immediate, tangible results. It's one of those jobs that makes me think, "The world NEEDS me!"

The bad news is that indexing has completely infiltrated my brain. I dreamt about it last night, and today? Today, I keep thinking of my day in terms of how I would index it.

A sampling:

furnace. See not working
husband 3-4, 9, 10-15
     disgust towards 10
     out of town 11-15
     travel to Florida, even if it is for work 9
not working 1-20
     furnace 1-20
     my fingers and toes 3-20
thermostat not matching actual temperature in house 10
winter coat 15-18
     donning inside house 16-18
     feeling like a dork 16
     not caring 18-20
winter weather 1-20
     shoveling snow 0
     why I got married in the first place. See husband,
       disgust towards
WTF 2-20

I hope you're staying warm and safe and have a slightly better attitude than the one I'm currently sporting.

Tuesday, December 3, 2013

That UTI looks good on ya.

Hallmark doesn't make a card that says, "Congratulations on your hellacious urinary tract infection." But they should. Because I would so totally buy it.

The labradoodle? He of the emergency vet visit, wherein the vet said, "Oh, there's way too much blood for this to be a UTI, and I saw a mass?" That guy?

Turns out the mass was just blood clots. Turns out the dude just has the world's most horrific UTI.


I mean, I've had a few UTIs, and ohsweetOprah, they are horrendous. But having Big Doodle be miserable and on freakin' amoxicillin is a gajillion times better than my poor kid having a mass in his bladder.

Basically, I just paid $1390 for amoxicillin and Big Doodle's medically necessary and really unfortunate manscaping. But I'm kind of OK with that. I just couldn't fathom that we could lose both the labradoodles in a year. I couldn't wrap my brain around the idea that the gentle horse that I walk around the neighborhood every day could be deathly ill.

I am so, so thankful that I didn't have to.

I don't care that we aren't sure how we're going to cover this bill. I don't care that we're really not having Christmas now. I just don't care. I'm so thankful for my boy.

Thank you all for your kind words. I appreciate you more than you'll ever know.
This is us, leaving the vet. Labradoodles are totally into selfies, yo. 

Monday, December 2, 2013

At least he wasn't nekkid at Thanksgiving.

So while I'm waiting to hear back from the emergency vet, let's have a little Thanksgiving recap, shall we?

There was turkey. There were 2 turkeys, actually: the one we ate, and the one who sired my husband.

Oh, snap!

My FIL has social skills that can best be described as "limited." He is divorced, and he doesn't communicate with his 5 kids unless he's describing his health issues. When My Guy and I visited him in the hospital last spring, after he'd had back surgery? He was euphoric. Not because of painkillers, but because he loves being in the hospital, being the center of attention. He also tends to exaggerate his symptoms and take liberties with information. For example, "We need to watch this med - it might impact your kidneys" becomes "I'm in full renal failure."


Instead of coming to Thanksgiving dinner, FIL went to the emergency room. They declined to admit him, so he called for 1 of his kids to come pick him up.

My Guy and I drove 45 minutes to the hospital. We spent a solid 20 minutes looking for FIL, and had 3 different hospital staff assisting in the search. Then, we got a text: FIL had called someone from his church to take him home. He'd been home for an hour. He did not think this warranted a phone call, and didn't think anything about how his entire family had delayed dinner so that he could be ferried about.

Now, I love my sweet husband. His reaction to all of this was to laugh manically. He was so angry, he couldn't stop laughing. Me? I wanted to cry. I wanted to cry, because I saw the expression on his face.

It's easy for me to be all, "What the fuuuuuuuuck?" But for my husband and his siblings? This is their dad. They're adults, but they still need a dad. They understand that there is some truth to his health concerns ... but they also know when they're being played. It would be nice to have a dad who has a tiny bit of concern for someone other than himself.

This is the guy who once knew our arrival was imminent, but was nekkid in his kitchen when we got to his house.

It's not often that I have no clue how to deal with someone because they are just that irrational. But I'm clueless here. Short of running over him with my car, I'm just not sure what to do. And really? Since I've backed into My Guy's truckasaurus not once but twice? A little more body damage to my 10-year-old Honda is not going to upset me. I have nothing to lose!

Any experience dealing with a similar person? Any words of wisdom?

Sunday, December 1, 2013

There's no friend like a dog friend.

Good thing about the emergency vet: The pop machine sells cold cans of A&W Root Beer for a mere 60 cents.

Bad thing about the emergency vet: Ohmygod, you're here again!

Good thing about the emergency vet: They are open on Sundays, so when you realize that your labradoodle is peeing Merlot, you can get him checked out ASAP.

Bad thing about the emergency vet: This is going to cost you anywhere from $1600 to $2200 because your sweet, sweet dog doesn't have a UTI. He has a mass in his bladder.

Good thing about the emergency vet: Your comrades in the waiting room are kind, like-minded folk. You hold a puppy's leash while his dad fills out paperwork. Then, that dad doesn't steal the iPhone you absentmindedly leave when you finally get to talk to the vet after 2 hours. Later, both you and your waiting room neighbor look on in horror and with a desire to do something - anything - as a man brings in his terrier, who was hit by a car.

Bad thing about the emergency vet: The dog is DOA. You are simultaneously thankful for your own dog's chance at health and desperate for a way to undo this horrible thing.

Good thing about the emergency vet: The people of the waiting room, as a whole, look away, trying to create privacy for the grieving man. The vets and the staff are kind and usher him to a private room where he can take his time with his fallen friend.

Bad thing about the emergency vet: They will keep your poor pup overnight so they can hydrate him and the internal medicine specialist can run diagnostics in the morning.

Good thing about the emergency vet: You know they will take good care of your boy.

Bad thing about the emergency vet: You were just here a few months ago and had to say goodbye a sweet and loyal friend. You've already filled your quota for canine sadness for this year. Your heart is raw and worried.