Fresh Start

My cooking energy evaporated yesterday after our trip to CHOP for an afternoon of diabetes education. dexcom g4This is not an iPod; it’s a continuous glucose monitor that tests Little Brother’s blood sugar every 5 minutes. He’s been using one for several weeks, and we had the chance to ask questions and learn interpretation techniques yesterday.

But when I came back, I was tired. And Hubs had to go pick up Middle Sister, who was at the shore for a few days. There was a series of 3 car snafus involved in that pickup–culminating in a flat tire that he had about 20 miles from home. In the rain. On the interstate.

He just got new tires 2 weeks ago.

The refrigerator that Hubs and the kids picked up at his mom’s house on Friday is still on the back porch–dead center, not neatly parked in the corner where it will live. That’s because the old refrigerator is still in the corner, still full of food. That’s because we didn’t have the part for the “new” one until Tuesday. That means we’re going to have a fridge transfer in the middle of today’s cooking frenzy, and I’m probably going to have to flip out before someone finds a place to stow the old one, because you can’t just put these things on the curb the night before a party.

And there are 90+ people coming here tomorrow and I’m hoping the weather clears up as promised because my house cannot hold that many people. I certainly don’t want the little kids in here playing on the Wii when there’s a perfectly good pool outside for them to swim in. Double that if the little kids are wet from the pool and decide they want to come in.

I was absently scratching my left arm last night when I realized I had hives. Well, more accurately, hive. When I’m stressed, I get one hive.

That’s when I bailed. I washed the last few dishes in the sink and just gave up. My list for today is ready. It’s a new day and I’m about to hit the ground running.

Wrong-Number Rant

This week I’ve gotten 6 calls on my cell phone. Normally I use it as a texting and Internet machine, so when it actually rings,Image I’m always startled. And I always worry, because the only person who calls my cell phone is the school nurse, and that’s never good news.

6 calls, 6 wrong numbers.

Now, wrong numbers happen. But with so many, I was starting to wonder if someone deliberately gave out the wrong phone number to throw someone else off their trail…

My real issue with the whole thing is that no one is polite anymore when they dial a wrong number. What happened to, “I’m sorry for disturbing you”? What happened to, “I was trying to reach <insert number here>” which gives the person answering the opportunity to confirm that you misdialed?

Instead, you get Deny, Deny, Deny.

You get “OK.”

You get hung up on.

So parents, please teach the Cell-Phone Generation what polite people do when they dial a wrong number.