Oh. It was my cell phone. Telling me that it wanted to be charged. I had been hearing this sound intermittently for a couple of hours and knew that it was close. I thought maybe it was at the desk of one of the paralegals. [No, they don’t beep, even when they back up, but they all have cell phones, and some of those have incredibly obnoxious ringtones.]
Because it couldn’t ever be *me* who is being irritating, right?
Vicky Pahnke Taylor’s column in Meridian is worth pondering.
This is why we [my kids and I] have our 72-hour kits. I’ve learned that the things I’m prepared for, generally don’t happen. I divided up the 72-hour kits.
LittleBit’s [in the blue rolling ice chest] will go with her. Fourthborn’s, and a few odd bits we’ve collected for Fiancé, will go to them. Mine [red, of course] goes to the duplex. Inside are MRE’s and packets of water, emergency ponchos, first aid kits, and the like. And a 100-hour emergency candle. All we have to do is put in a couple changes of clothing and something to entertain us, and we can roll our stuff to the family meeting place. Once we decide where that is.
We had our quarterly fire drill at work yesterday. The flashing lights and loudspeaker announcements seemed to go on half again as long as normal. [I am exempt from the fire drills because of my knees. I just stay at my desk and answer the phones.] I was beginning to wonder, “Is this maybe not a drill, and am I about to become a crispy critter?” when the lights stopped flashing and we got the “all clear”.
Deep cleansing breath.
The dentist is happy with me. The hygienist is happy with me. She thinks I must have been flossing more religiously than the last four months. [She is sweet, and very good at her job. She is also delusional.] She did not have to break out the jackhammer, not even once! We tried a new treatment; I forgot to ask how much it costs or if it is covered by my insurance, but I guess I’ll find out in a couple of weeks when I get my EOB. It’s a fluoride varnish, and unlike that foaming stuff that you’re not supposed to swallow, this stuff sets up in saliva, so swallowing is crucial.
I don’t think I will do that again. [The treatment, I mean; I do hope to continue swallowing as long as I have life, and chocolate.] I kept burping up solvent-flavored burps. Maybe she put down a carpet at the back of my mouth when she was in there. Or laminate? Or maybe it’s the cherry flavoring I added to my Coke when I tanked the car before driving in to the office. Either way, it’s narsty. [I called the dentist’s office and asked them to put a great big fat sticky-note on my file that says “no fluoride varnish next time”.
I am once more making progress on the Flared Lace Smoke Ring. For reasons that I think have more to do with operator error than anything else, the first two or three rounds of this pattern are awkward to work. They have just given me fits, both times, and then after that it’s smooth as silk. Or, in this case, cashmere.
I packed three small boxes in the kitchen last night and am about to go pack one or two more before running the tub. I am intentionally planning a quiet, productive weekend at home. The dinner group is tossing out ideas for a get-together, and I may very well abstain in favor of packing and more packing. Though if I get the kitchen packed up tonight, and the non-essentials in my bathroom, I might decide to go if they do something tomorrow.
It’s nice to have options.
- Five years into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!