Well, that sucked.
After writing the last Friday post I set to cleaning the house, scrubbing top to bottom, washing sheets to shower curtain, all in preparation to fully enjoy five glorious days of nothing but holiday cheer. 2012 was going to go out on a positive note or I’d know the reason why!
I know the reason why.
Saturday we found out my grandma was sick; by Saturday afternoon she had requested Chick-fil-A. Since my mum and I had planned to eat lunch with her anyway, we both decided to drop by for a visit. To make a long story short, we’ve no clue what happened between the phone call and the time we arrived, but let’s just say she wasn’t better (nor will we be eating Chick-fil-A anytime in the near future). After a comedy of unsavory errors, we headed to the ER, where we sat, amid germs and misery for five hours, until they admitted her with Influenza. Apparently, she was the third case admitted that night, and I’m pretty sure, at one time or another, all three sat next to me.
So, grandma came home Christmas Eve, happy as a clam. By that time, my mum was sick; I was sick by Christmas–at which time our furnace decided to die a rather dramatic death.
However . . .
After a few hours, it came back on–a Christmas miracle if ever I’ve witnessed one; two days later, when the motor died for good, I was hotter than a tin roof on the fourth of Jooo–ly . . . the cold felt positively delightful!
Our neighbor guys left the most delectable treats on our doorstep;
My aunt sent a big ol’ batch of cookies in the mail;
Another aunt called every day to make sure we were still alive–and brought us soup and bread to make sure we stayed that way;
Our Swedish package arrived when we had the wherewithal to open it and all the treasures tucked inside;
And today, I’m well enough to be annoyed that I’m still not well enough to accomplish all I’d like.
It’s all good, in a round about sort of way.
Needless to say, if someone tries to give you this wretched business just say, No. Hell, No!
With that, a warm, happy, healthy celebration to you . . .