Where's George Clooney when you need him? |
We weren't in the waiting room even a minute before a nurse was escorting us into an examination room. Wires. Blood work. X-rays. Beeps. Nurses. Doctors. It was a long two hours.
At 12:45 a.m., we had the verdict. No PE. No heart attack. Pleurisy. The doctor diagnosed her with pleurisy. By the time we got home, it was 1:15 a.m. I think I fell asleep around 2:30 a.m.
I got up at 6:30 a.m. to get ready for church. My ass has been dragging all day long. We put together Stations of the Cross after the worship service. My wife was exhausted. She didn't sleep at all last night. My son, on the other hand, had no interest in sleep. He climbed out of his crib. He kicked and slapped and screamed. My daughter didn't want to practice for her piano lesson, but I made her do it. She cried and whined.
It is now 9 p.m. on April Fool's Day. I'm tired, and I have little to show for my efforts today. I have no addition to Project Memoir. I forgot to upload my new cartoon, so I have no new cartoon. I am a total blogging loser tonight, and I'm sorry.
But, I have to count my biggest blessing: my wife is here, watching The Celebrity Apprentice with me right now.
Saint Marty gives thanks for good health at the end of this very long day.
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