Yup. Some more of this.
First off - my mother is doing so much better than anyone ever expected. She went through the surgery swimmingly (she told me a horrifying story of waking up from the general anesthetic to hear sawing and crunching, but her spinal was still in effect, so she didn't feel it). She wowed the nurse and the physical therapist by zooming around her floor with the walker a few hours after her surgery, and when she asked for pain meds, it wasn't for the repaired hip, but for the hip that is still bad.
The plan was for mom to be transferred to a different room in the hospital, so that she could continue the physical therapy under watchful eyes, but she was doing everything so well that she was able to come home and do outpatient therapy instead. Her rehab continues apace, and in roughly 6 months, the other hip will be done. This is wonderful and marvelous and amazing.
Not so wonderful - my car. I know that I just wrote about how I was SO OVER car-related anxiety, and blah blah blah, if I could just make it until spring, I can begin car-shopping then. I thought I was in the clear for a while... and so of course my car started to act up the day after my mother's surgery. The kind of serious acting-up that you can't ignore because you're convinced the engine might explode (Izaak and Malachai were in the car, and Izaak said, "Is the car going to start on fire?" I tried to explain that cars don't go up in huge balls of fire like they do in the movies, but I didn't really convince any of us).
So I went from worrying about my mother right into worrying about my car, seamlessly and sickeningly. I was too far from my regular mechanics, so I took my car to a local shop by my mom. I didn't realize how inept they were, but it struck me pretty quickly that they didn't give a shit about anything. Three days, two missed days of work, and $250 later, I took the car back to Buffalo, so angry that time that could have been spent being so happy about my mom was actually spent angry and worried that this garage couldn't even be bothered to call me back. Oh, and they messed the car up further. Of course.
Now the car is at my garage, and I'm looking to be out another $500. My anxiety about this is heightened by the fact that the cruise I've been looking forward to is coming up a little too quickly for my liking. And my rent is late, because of the car. And Christmas is coming up. Money, money, money, spent faster than I can make it.
Oh, and I think I might be having another bout of just wanting to be alone in my dark room-cave - I'm not sure if the money anxiety brought it on, or if it was coming naturally and cyclically, like it usually does, but hot damn, my room-cave sounds so nice right now.
The plan was for mom to be transferred to a different room in the hospital, so that she could continue the physical therapy under watchful eyes, but she was doing everything so well that she was able to come home and do outpatient therapy instead. Her rehab continues apace, and in roughly 6 months, the other hip will be done. This is wonderful and marvelous and amazing.
Not so wonderful - my car. I know that I just wrote about how I was SO OVER car-related anxiety, and blah blah blah, if I could just make it until spring, I can begin car-shopping then. I thought I was in the clear for a while... and so of course my car started to act up the day after my mother's surgery. The kind of serious acting-up that you can't ignore because you're convinced the engine might explode (Izaak and Malachai were in the car, and Izaak said, "Is the car going to start on fire?" I tried to explain that cars don't go up in huge balls of fire like they do in the movies, but I didn't really convince any of us).
So I went from worrying about my mother right into worrying about my car, seamlessly and sickeningly. I was too far from my regular mechanics, so I took my car to a local shop by my mom. I didn't realize how inept they were, but it struck me pretty quickly that they didn't give a shit about anything. Three days, two missed days of work, and $250 later, I took the car back to Buffalo, so angry that time that could have been spent being so happy about my mom was actually spent angry and worried that this garage couldn't even be bothered to call me back. Oh, and they messed the car up further. Of course.
Now the car is at my garage, and I'm looking to be out another $500. My anxiety about this is heightened by the fact that the cruise I've been looking forward to is coming up a little too quickly for my liking. And my rent is late, because of the car. And Christmas is coming up. Money, money, money, spent faster than I can make it.
Oh, and I think I might be having another bout of just wanting to be alone in my dark room-cave - I'm not sure if the money anxiety brought it on, or if it was coming naturally and cyclically, like it usually does, but hot damn, my room-cave sounds so nice right now.
Comments