My new fridge shows up just as I am about to start work, so I had to call in and say I would be late.
Out with the old.
And in with the new.
Then with an hour left in the shift I get a call from the principle at The Boy's school. There had been an 'altercation', can I come pick him up?
One of the 'friends' of the kid that hit The Boy with the pipe decided to pick a fight with The Boy. The Boy told him he didn't want to fight him in school but the kid insisted. So The Boy had to KICK HIS ASS!
That is what the principal told me. Well, he actually used different words. "He didn't throw the first punch but he got most of the licks in." (Edumacation makes it sound so purdy, donit?)
Anyway, I go get the boy and I am off to take Sammy to the vet. He is not happy with me at all. I get him into the carrier and he pretty much flips out. It was like I was carrying the Tazmanian Devil in a burlap sack. The vet just looked at me and asked if it was domesticated. I stick my finger in the cage and he calms down. That is enough for her.
Then she brings out the forms and runs down the 'extras' for me to decide on.
- Advantage treatment? "Uh its February, he doesn't have fleas." NO
- Post surgery take home treatment? "He routinely comes home looking like he has been through the Bore War, he has proven he has no problem with pain." NO
- They will cut his nails while he is sleeping. "Dude, he comes back looking like he was in that war and lost, are you kidding me?" NO
- Shots and vaccinations? NO
- Pre-surgery blood work? What? "Is that optional? Really?" Then NO
We do agree that he needs to be cleaned up. She tells me that they will bath him if he doesn't wake up too soon after the surgery. "Huh?"
"Well we only bath them while they are asleep." She explains that they throw him in a bucket of soapy water. I kid you not, those were her exact words. So, I agree to that.
So now I have some time. I decide to take the video card that I bought yesterday back to Staples. Couldn't find any drivers on the planet that would make it work and on my way back I decide to buy a kitchen table that I saw the other day at Canadian Tire. (We have already established my Canadian Red-neck'ed'ness.)
I purchase the thing before I ever wonder how I will transport it. So in the store it stays for now. I go home and regroup. While doing that I toss my old table and rickety chairs out for the landlord to take to the dump.
(Wow, I have had a long day.)
So I remember that Sister has a truck, sort of. An SUV. I call her up and off we go to pick up the table. She brings her friend with her. I don't know yet how I worked this out, but I managed to be the only person in this little trio to not handle the table as it is schlepped through the snow and up the stairs.
But there she is...a Debbie Travis Walnut Parsons table.
Let's just take a moment, shall we?
Now that it is together, I realize it is too big and I have no chairs. But I am too tired, it is just going to have to stay.
And how was your day?