Things are settling back to normal here.
If you had been around us on Tuesday, you apparently would’ve gotten a kick out of a few exchanges between Mom and me. (Perhaps it was my extreme weariness. Or extreme weirdness. Whatevs.)
Mom: I’m going to do one last load of laundry. Do you have anything you want washed?
Me: Well, these pants. I got chocolate on them yesterday. Then rinsed it off. Then chocolate again today.
Mom: (stifles snort)
Me, shrugging: It’s my nin-do. My ninja way.
[Mom then cracks up, but to be fair, she’s never seen a Naruto episode.]
Mom (watching me wandering the Walgreens candy aisle): Did you find anything else you wanted?
Me: Nothing I want to still be there in the morning.
Mom (inre: all of her cooking and cleaning): Well, at least you got three weeks of not doing all of those things.
Me: Yep, now I can go back to just neglecting them as usual.
Also said (but not on Tuesday): “Hey Mom, the Orkin guy said that, if at all possible, I should avoid mopping where he worked in the guest room and office. I told him it was not a problem.”
So yes, Mom was here for three weeks. And boy did she kept busy. Over the course of 21 days, she:
- Cleaned our master* bathroom
- Cleaned both toilets (twice!)
- Dusted all four ceiling fans
- Swept and/or dealt with a dog-hair-riddled Roomba several times
- Mopped the floor (a futile endeavor in Arizona, but still sweet)
- Did about eight loads of laundry
- Cooked several meals to feed us
- Routinely heated up leftovers for me
- Cooked three large batches of meals for the freezer
- Ran the dishwasher (and put everything away) about four times
- Scooped both litter boxes every two or three days.
She also organized our coat closet, which included taking most things out to rearrange everything. And tossing a lot of empty toilet paper packaging from months (okay, years) past.
And she worked her magic on the guest room.
She made neat piles of Tim’s old jeans and shorts, which, due to his weight fluctuations, range from size 30 to 36. Then we put those in separate bags, then tucked those bags back onto the shelves so that the closet actually looks vaguely orderly.
We moved some things like collectibles’ boxe, to other rooms. Ones where they actually belonged. (Crazy, I know!) We even found a few more things to donate. (Too bad, we didn’t notice the stuff in December.)
Then she went through an overstuffed file cabinet and took everything out. She had me look through everything to determine what should be junked. (Which is how I found some of those old notebooks.) She went over everything that did get tossed to make sure it didn’t have identifying information. If it did, she tore it up by hand. #DIYshredder #BuffForearms
In and around that, I did catch her up on the past season and a half of Brooklyn Nine Nine and Crazy Ex-Girlfriend, plus two seasons of Jane the Virgin. But only two seasons — and I’m about three episodes behind myself (still hurting from the major plot twist) — so NO ONE SPOIL ANYTHING IN THE COMMENTS!
For anyone wondering, yes, it was his gall bladder that was causing issues. And they decided it needs to come out.
He was going to have it out Tuesday night or Wednesday morning. Then they pushed it to Thursday. Then on Thursday they pushed the surgery until Friday afternoon because they wanted to do an MRI to check for gallstones. Which you’d think a) they could’ve done on Wednesday and b) wouldn’t nix an entire day of surgery possibilities. But it’s a hospital so that’s how it happened.
To be fair, they’re a bit concerned that, due to his weight, they won’t be able to do laparoscopy — which was the nice, relatively non-invasive (for surgery, anyway) version Mom had — and will have to actually cut him open and remove the thing the old fashioned way. So maybe that’s why they’re being extra cautious.
All I’m saying is that Mom had hers out within a week of diagnosis — and she wasn’t sick enough to be hospitalized upon diagnosis. So we’ll see if he actually has it out today or whether he’s going to still have the thing into his golden years.
Some of you have requested pictures. And I need to get video that shows how adorable it is when she furiously wags her stub-of-a-tail.**
But I had literally a couple hundred MB of storage left on my iPad, and we have terrible lighting. But I’ve cleared up some space, and the vet’s office is well-lit. So I’ll try to at least take some pictures while we’re there. And we’ll have what will probably be her ending weight — short of weight gain from all the damn human food we feed her because she’s spoiled as hell — so it can kind of be the final reveal.
That is, assuming I remember my iPad. After all, we’ll be trying to get both a dog and a cat to the vet. A tall order even when one of you isn’t still using a walker when he’s out in the world. But I’ll try to remember.
No question today. Just maybe applaud my Mom in the comments, I guess.
*About the size of a claustrophobia-inducing walk-in closet
**Naturally short, not bobbed. Our best guess is the Australian Shepherd in her