It is NOT a secret what day this happened.
It is just that I can't remember the day.
Regardless, I have this former neighbor who is responsible for my insanity.
She texts me constantly.
The other day she asks me to come over and help her with a new piece of medical equipment.
I know what she is tawking about. It is a wrist meter that measures your pulse. She also has a finger thingee to measure her oxygen.
I WISH THEY GAVE HER A GADGET TO MEASURE THE ALCOHOL CONTENT IN HER BLOODSTREAM.
I ask her if it's really important. She starts crying. I should have known - I know crying big-time, and this was fake crying.
I get ready and go there.
I see both cars in the driveway. I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT I NEVER ASKED HER IF HER HUSBAND WAS HOME!
He was. I said, "John is home and I am here putting this thing together?" I asked what he was doing. He was sleeping, which is what I intended to do.
I really don't get annoyed often, but this day, I must confess, I did.
I get her set up, and said, "Hon, I can't keep coming over here when your husband is home to help you."
So I leave. On the way home, my blinkers start going psycho. I call the one brother that I know will help me at that time. He said, "both blinkers were on at the same time?" YES THEY WERE!! He said, "are you sure it wasn't the flashers?" DID I JUST SAY THAT? I had to cover my stupidity.
ok, so the flashers are going and I'm driving home. I don't know where that button is. I get to my street and I see a man walking down the hill. OH SIR!!
SIR, WHY ARE MY BLINKERS GOING AND GOING AND GOING?
He said, "you mean your flashers?" YES, YOU MORON!
I didn't say that. The poor man is trying to help me. He knew about that square thing under the radio that has a RED TRIANGLE in it. He reaches in and hits it - the flashers stop.
THANK YOU, SIR. OH, THANK YOU!
He asks me where I live. I don't want to tell him so I said "down the street."
I said, "do you need a ride home?" OMG, now I know I am trouble with the honey.
He says, "Oh no, I am walking down to Wells Fargo. IS THAT THE NAME OF A STREET OR WHAT?
I told him I would take him, as it's at least a mile down.
I get him there, he is third on line. I am patient, no problem. He gets back TO the car and tells me that he is continuing on (walking) to SMITH'S.
I said that's another two miles! He said, no problem, I can do it.
Now, the 'ole Irish Catholic guilt descends upon me.
I said, Hey, I'll take you.
So I drive him down to Smith's because he needs to get something important for HIS GIRLFRIEND that he LIVES WITH, and he is one of the 83-year-olds!
I wait outside of Smith's for half an hour, while my new best friend, Gerry, is shopping.
OH GOOD, HERE HE COMES! He has this teeny little bag so I asked him if he had enough time to buy everything he needed.
Oh yes, MY GIRLFRIEND wanted a bottle of soda AND a half gallon of chocolate milk.
YOU ARE KIDDING ME, right? (no, I didn't say that)
But I did say, "she wanted you to walk 8 miles total to get her a bottle of soda and some chocolate milk?"
SOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, the bottom line is this: my insane former neighbor NEEDS me and I am calculating maybe 30 minutes tops.
THREE HOURS LATER, I GET HOME!
Ribit, bec/ I wasted so much time, I was already due for my nap.
Because I was so stressed, I had two donuts to calm myself.
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and that's my very boring story.
thank ye!
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