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Monday, November 15, 2010

A Tale of Two Days

"A Tale of Two Cities," Charles Dickens' epic novel of conflicted heroes, opens thusly: 

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.

Yeah, after Friday and Saturday last week, I totally get that. 

Let's start with Friday, shall we?

Friday opened normally enough.  Got up at 5:30 to make two breakfasts and wait for my turn in the bathroom.  Skippy emerged from his 67 minutes in the bathroom  (seriously, how much primping can a kid do when eyeliner isn't involved?)  looking surly. 

"I feel sick."  says he.

"Vomit or fever," says I.

"My head is going to explode," says he.

"You should have taken me up on my offer to take to you to the doctor on Monday when you first complained about this, but now you've had super fantastic fun time all week and guess what?  You're going to school," says I.

"I'm dying," says he, as he uses all his powers for surly and slams the front door, startling the cats and waking Peaches.

"Not likely,"  mutters I.

Not atypical at all. 

Until 8:30.  8:30 is the time when my boss discovers that when he crashed the website a month ago, he wiped out the list of wholesale customers' emails...all 800+ of them.  Now he wants to send a Holiday email to the stores that sell our products, and he can't because he doesn't have the email list.  Oh, and bonus, it has to be done RIGHT NOW because he's on his way out of the country...again...for his fourth out of the country vacation this year.  (I cannot make this up.) 

So it falls to me to start searching for emails.  Then the phone rings at 9:30.  It's the nurse at Skippy's school informing me that the child is running a roughly 100 degree temp and would I give him permission to come home?

"No," says I.  "He has permission to drive himself to the doctor and get looked at."  Whereupon I call the doctor's office and get an immediate appointment.  (Ah, the joys of having kept the same pediatrician for 17 years...)  I feel no guilt at all at this point.

Then there's a knock on my door.  And it's my friend...let's call her Penny.  Penny is holding a beautiful vanilla shake and something in a Styrofoam box.  Penny tells me a tale of how she got a new job and was bringing a treat to the woman who gave her a recommendation, but said woman was not at the office so Penny was left holding the treat.  A healthy person herself, Penny was not going to eat the treat, and wondered to whom she could give.  TAH DAH!  She happened to be in my offices' neighborhood!    We were in the middle of a very nice chat when who shows up...but Sally, the woman who used to be my assistant, but quit because working for us was cutting into her unemployment benefits. 

I haven't seen Sally in a year...not since the day she called in for the last time.  As Penny leaves, Sally walks in, heads for the shelves of winter gloves, proceeds to boost several, asking me if they'd make good gifts for her grand kids.  (I should mention that when she worked here, Bossman gave her permission to take some small items if she wanted them  I was unaware that this offer extended to a year beyond her employment.)

While Sally is in the office, regaling me with the latest tale of how working is cutting into her unemployment benefits, the phone rings and it's Bossman who has found the missing emails! (YAY!)  And now needs three different and equally urgent items done pronto.  I inform him that Sally is in the office, stealing things and talking my ear off.  He tells me to give her a long, very involved, and cheerful message.  I decline. 

"Bossman says hi," says I.

After another half hour, Sally leaves, just as my phone rings.  It's Skippy.  A prescription for antibiotics await at the local Walgreen's.  I'm cheered by this because I can pick it up on my way to Peaches' school where I'm to help serve hot lunch.

I reach Walgreen's with roughly 15 minutes before I'm to be at the school.  No trouble, it's Walgreen's!

Except for two small details:

1)  They have no record of a prescription for Skippy.

2)  They have no record of Skippy.

What follows is a series of phone calls  (Thank goodness for cell phones!)  between the doctor, our health care provider  (Yeah, never try to get a kids' prescription filled without holding the correct health care card in your hand...)  and my husband  (who has more vital info about the kids in his wallet than I have in my whole purse.)  After 50 minutes...I was the proud owner of 56 capsules of antibiotics to cure Skippy's sinus infection.

Obviously hot lunch was NOT happening.  I phoned my apologies, ran home to dose my ill son.  I informed him that had he not been so surly, I would have kissed his forehead and known he was running a fever. 

Back at the office, a circus ensued.  It's getting to be the holidays, you know, and anyone who works in any kind of retail will tell you that those who shop for the holidays are not always easy to deal with.  Multiply that by ten when your store is online and every grandma who's ever discovered her son's computer password whilst babysitting the grandkiddies is suddenly very interested in shopping online, yet not terribly skilled.

By the end of the day I was shot, but on my way to a Party lite party an hour from home.  I was not about to miss this party because these are women I adore and haven't seen in a very long time.  The perfect end, I figured to a frantic day.  I got home late, stayed up late watching a movie with Hubby and Peaches  (Skippy was in an amoxycillian coma in his room.)

That was Friday.  Frantic, frantic Friday.

Saturday:

I got up about 7:30 and decided to have breakfast in my jammies.  I have these super cute red flannel jammies with dogs all over them.  Flipping through the channels, I landed on "The Oxbow Incident."  I don't generally dig westerns, but I liked the book when I read it in college, and besides, it seemed like a cool thing to watch on a gloomy Saturday while everyone else was still asleep.

The next time I looked at the clock, it was 10:30.  Peaches and Hubby were milling about, getting ready to go shopping for my birthday (I've reached an age where I've decided to start lying about my age.  More on that tomorrow.)  Skippy was still sleeping off an infection.

Well, I got dressed, and did some household chores when I realized the Badger game was on at 11.  So I turned that on.  Skippy came upstairs, we discussed football and grilled cheese sandwiches.

The next time I looked at the clock, it was 5 PM.  Skippy was in the shower, Hubby and Peaches were not yet back.  It was dark in my house, and the cats were curled up on me, and none too happy when I moved.

I'd literally slept away a day.  Made me wonder why I got out of my doggie jammies in the first place.

I didn't think grown ups did that. 

So there you have it my friends.  Two completely different days one right after the other.  Which one did I like better?

I'll let you sort that out. 

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