Last night, I went to pick up the daughter from basketball practice. A fire truck, paramedic van and ambulance sat in the school driveway in the failing light. I ran across the street.
Crazy life? Mine is crazy. In good ways and bad ways.
The crazy, at least yesterday, was not so much in a good way.
The wall finally got patched about 7 pm last night. But not until after I had to call 5 drywallers to see if they'd do it (only 2 returned calls, and now I have to cancel the one who was coming tomorrow because in the end, my neighbor who is a contractor heard about my dire straits and showed up to fix it for me. Item: purchase one very nice bottle of wine for him.).
The son took his laptop to school yesterday for a project and returned home with a virus-laden machine, courtesy of one of his nitwit friends and said person's virus-laden flash drive. That was six hours of repair time.
And the ambulance, fire truck and paramedic van? I ran up to the glass doors of the school and the daughter came into lobby as I arrived. When she saw me, she burst into tears. She and her teammates were practicing when one of the girls tripped and fell, breaking her arm, quite horrifically, in two places. The daughter had never seen displaced bone or deformed, blackening flesh before and while one of the coaches helped the injured girl, the daughter was charged with getting someone to call for outside help.
As she told me this, I patted and soothed, and while we stood there, the injured girl was wheeled out.
"It's ok, L!" she said, and clearly she had been given something to ease her discomfort.
"Hey, look!" I whispered to the daughter. "She really lucked out. She got the cute firefighters!"
And the daughter laughed then because one of the men really was good looking.
And while I said aloud that a broken arm is really small in the overall scheme of things that can go wrong, I held a good thought for N.'s mother, because I know that for mothers, even a stubbed toe can look like disaster when it's your kid. And I know how miserable I'd be if it was my daughter with the broken arm.
Today, the coach commended the daughter for keeping her head in an emergency.
Tomorrow, the refrigerator should be installed. Perhaps the third time will be the charm. Tomorrow, the window that an energetic friend literally pulled out of its frame (the window's fifty years old. I suppose it's not surprising) will be replaced. Next week, I start interviewing men with sledgehammers.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow.
Though I look like more skimmed milk than mocha, I'll dance next time it rains. I will wear you out. I wear me out.
Life is crazy that way.
Go listen to some music: "Livin' la Vida Loca" from the album Ricky Martin by Ricky Martin. Poor little N. has surgery tomorrow to repair her arm, which really makes my heart ache for her family. My whole family has decided that this week really really really needs to end. Now.