This is not my beautiful day off

[katallison]

Haul self out of bed by seven, get caffeinated and breakfasted. Check.

Reply to lovely story comments. Check.

Grocery shopping. Check.

Bike over to hospital, visit stepmother in ICU where she's recuperating from having part of a lung removed. Check.

Get lengthy medical update from stepsister about bronchoscopy, collapsing lung, ventilator, hassles with nurses, etc. etc. Check.

Bike to office, spend three hours updating database and sorting files in preparation for start of semester tomorrow. Check.

Bike home, get car, drive over to P.'s, mow his overgrown lawn and do extensive weeding/hedge-trimming which he's still not recuperated enough to handle. Check.

Spend a few minutes sitting on front porch with P., muscles quivering, drinking beer, dripping sweat, enjoying heart-rendingly beautiful September day. Check.

Drive home, shower, eat a few spoonfuls of cottage cheese, drive to drugstore for birthday card for dad. Check.

Drive out to nursing home, discover dad asleep, leave card with note like the chickenshit I am rather than waking him and having yet another completely incoherent half-asleep conversation. Check.

Stop at Kohl's, spend some time vainly seeking pants that (a) fit and (b) are not hideous, as current stock of non-hideous pants that fit are beginning to wear out and develop holes. Check.

Plunk down at computer, swill beer, contemplate another trip to ICU to check in on stepmother, contemplate untouched heaps of dirty laundry, feel utterly unable to deal with concept of cooking something for dinner, mourn the end of summer. Check.

And so here I am, achey and beat down and distinctly non-vacationed. As laurashapiro notes, they call it Labor Day for a reason.

Comments

[tracy-rowan.livejournal.com]

You're a good person. I suggest that you and I plan a date for sometime in 2007 or so to go nuts and do something really crazy.