Ugh. Well, my plans for the day cratered. 'Wickid hahd,' as we say here in Glorious south suburban Boston.
So, today is normally my day to hang with my former roomates from The Pickle Jar, the bachelor pad that I used to call home. Today is normally a day to eat expensive sushi and be the high rollers at the very upscale sushi bar that we patronize. BUT, I bailed, 'cus today the Mrs. and I had a date.
Note the past tense.
So, this morning opens up with turmoil at my Brazilian relatives' house. My brother-in-law headed to the Emergency Room with blood pressure that could have shot a golf ball through a garden hose. Now, my brother-in-law lives on salt, so this was inevitable. Still, it happened this morning. Some medication and a day of observation are in order to get his BP down. Still, this has my family in an uproar, and yours truly is left scratching his head. You see, growing up with a sick father has left me with a calm manner in the face of medical crisis. This has stood me in good stead in the few medical emergencies that didn't involve my father. Today, however, my unexcitability may have been mistaken for apathy, and that's not a good thing.
So, this afternoon the wife and I were supposed to go to the theatre in Boston. Not 10 minutes after hearing from my sister-in-law, my ticket guy calls and tells me that he missed his connection with his ticket guy, and, short story, no tickets. So, I get to tell my wife, and that sucked, too.
Now, between a hospital visit and generally shit luck with arranging for something for Mrs. Pirate and I to do, it's about 1pm, and the day is shot. So it goes. Anyhow, I should probably go and make sure that no one brought a 5-lb back of salt to my brother-in-law's hospital room to spice up his mashed potatoes and mystery meat.
Some days, it just ain't worth chewing through the leather restraints to get out of bed.
Mother of the Year
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