Today I took a nap on the couch. After sleeping in, taking a walk, and going to the shoe store, I was wiped out. The husband was going across the street to see our friends so I took the opportunity to enjoy a siesta with no football game playing in the background. Ah, bliss.
Until the dog got concerned that I was lying still on the couch and had to check on me.
Every. Ten. Minutes.
Really, it was mostly sweet. If I didn’t open my eyes when I felt him breathing on me, he put a paw on the couch until I pushed it off. If I moved around too much after he had settled down on the floor in front of the couch, he sat up and rested his big head on the corner of my pillow until I stopped. When my arm hung over the side of the couch, he nudged it with his nose until I, yet again, opened my eyes and told him it was okay.
Poor guy was probably thinking that the last time I laid on the couch with my pillow, I didn’t move for three days and he barely got any sleep babysitting while I recovered. After this, I kind of think he brings it on himself.
Last night we went out to dinner with the parents and the other middle sister and her husband, to celebrate our anniversaries. Three years for us next week! Eight years for the other middle and her hubs, and thirty-six years for the parents. I thought I would celebrate by slicing my finger on an anniversary card.
The dad: What are you doing?
Me: <finger pressed to side of ice water glass> I got a paper cut and it’s really hurting.
The dad: It’s really hurting?
Me: Yep. I hate these. They throb and sting and take a long time to heal.
The dad: Yeah, those are the worst. Say, how’s your head?
The staples were supposed to come out yesterday but an emergency brain surgery came up and all Friday appointments were rescheduled to Tuesday. I was really excited to brush my hair carefree once more, but if I was the one in need of emergency brain surgery, you bet I’d want some chica with staples and a benign Martha to put up and shut up. And so I shall.
Me: … and that’s what I said to Government Agency Y.
The dad: So now everyone thinks you’re a whiner and you hate veterans.
The dad: You should have dropped a few names.
Me: Can I call them back and use yours?
The dad: Not now you can’t.
The dad: Better hope you don’t need a passport anytime soon.
Me: At this rate, Canada is the only place I’ll be able to find work.
Actually, when I realized how many jobs I applied for pre-Martha, my confidence in finding something was renewed. If there were so many jobs open in September and they were filled with other people, there have to be just as many open in October and November, and since September’s new hires are off the market now, my odds just increased.
But just in case, God save the Queen.