I humbly submit the reason I do not have a life as of late.

It's my Dad's truck. I guess that's what happens when you meet a farmer using a unlighted skid loader to pull a hay wagon out onto a county highway at night. Nice isn't it.

Subsequently, that little party maker has the ability to suck every moment I have from my life. I now visit ER's, surgeons, hospitals and pharmacies with uncomfortable frequency. I view more naked body parts than one should ever see of a parental unit and just when I thought my days of writing down poop & potty schedules was done I have been proven wrong.

And just to underline the experience to near lottery status, every distant relative removed to the 100th degree calls to offer their support (and by support I mean that sneaky way they want to ask questions they have no right to have the answer too) but do not offer to visit or bring a dinner in an effort to give us (and by us I mean me) a break.

On the bright side I can now multitask 5 schedules at a time, read cryptic narcotic drug instructions without question, screen multiple phones at a glance and tell people to piss off on command.

Ahh ~ if it wasn't for the balls I'd be King.
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5 Responses
  1. Stacy Says:

    So sorry to hear about your Dad! Hope he heals up soon!

  2. Deborah Says:

    I hope you Dad has a speedy recovery. Don't worry about the relatives, that is there job!!

  3. Wow. I'm so sorry. That's a nasty looking crash--you need to get caller ID so you aren't interrupted by those "helpful" kin.

  4. That's terrible! Hope life slows down soon!

  5. Ann Says:

    You are amazing.

    It just never stops, does it.

    Balls, or not, you are no one to mess with. Queen Blarney!

    I wish I could do something to make your days easier. (hug)