It’s after midnight so Christmas is over. And thank God for that.
Joe spent over a week in the hospital with pneumonia and ended up having surgery to clean out infection around his lung. A seven-inch incision and a deliberately broken rib, plus tubes to drain things, and 24/7 oxygen support, he was an ornery bastard who just wanted to go home and have a cigarette. If I were Gayle, I’d put my foot in his ass if he picked up a damn cigarette again after all that.
But that’s the problem with smokers.
They’re fucking stupid.
It took my dad two strokes and having his skull cut open to repair an aneurysm to get him to quit.
You just spent a week being literally unable to breathe without an oxygen tube shoved up your nose and you’re still going to smoke?
My foot.
Let me put it in your ass.
But he’s home and hopefully won’t need another should-have-gone-in-an-ambulance trip to the ER until his follow-up appointments next week.
Oy.
Despite missing Joe and Gayle, Christmas Eve was the standard affair. Too much food. Lots of presents for the kids. I made Pinwheels. Peggy’s daughter Avery (three next month) kept us thoroughly entertained chattering away and singing Jingle Bells over and over again, and keeping her pal Ellie from sitting down too long. She declared it the “Best Christmas Ever!” We gave Ellie her own Sheep. (And Sleep Phones too.) The couple times she’s seen mine, she’s eyed him up like she was going to steal him when I wasn’t looking. After all the gifts were open, she carried her new critter around the rest of the night with a little grin. That’s my girl.
It snowed while we were at Amy’s and the roads were a mess on the way home. It was bloody cold, so it wasn’t wet and sloppy, it was fluffy and there was no such thing as traction. We barely surpassed 40mph for most of the drive home so it was a slow slog, but we made it home in one piece. Probably because Bob drove and we didn’t take Joel the Cursed Jetta. (Last time it snowed on Christmas we ended up side-swiped into a ditch. Because fucking assholes.)
Christmas Day we usually have dinner with Bob’s family, but we didn’t find out the plans until late in the day, so things were weirdly off.
Let me just say…there are some people who cannot function unless they are creating an endless supply of needless drama. And I’m just going to leave it at that.
Also Joe and Anne have a cat.
Less than five minutes in the door, I could feel the familiar burn in my lungs and my sinuses swelled mostly shut. We were there less than two hours and by the time we left, I was wheezing to the point of whistling on every inhale and exhale. And the cat wasn’t even in the room the entire time. When we got home, I had hot tea and took a nap, and now I feel like I got hit by a truck.
So.
Yeah.
Now we don’t have to deal with anybody else until January 6th when Bob goes back to work.
Christmas is fucking exhausting.
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I’ll Bet On You Toad the Wet Sprocket |