About 40 hours ago, I left the dentist, and went to the local grocery to fill my prescription. I've been having horrible headaches lately, and they leave me scrabbling for leftover pain killers from my last big dental event. They're the kind that make me want to arch my back and flail wildly when I search the OTC med rack at the store and can't find what I want. Right now I am on the Motrin, antibiotic and decongestant regime. (I suspect it might be my sinuses. I've eaten more Motrin this week than I have in the past two years.) If it's not covered by one of those meds, it's something REALLY serious. Send flowers.
After I turned my script in, I stood at the deli counter pondering the mysteries of dinner, and my phone rang. It was my little brother, calling from an airport in Hong Kong. "What's wrong with Dad?" Huh?As it turns out, my dad had a cardiac event (not his first) and is in ICU. I've been in close contact with my nieces, trying to figure out what's going on, what I need to do, and when I need to do it. I suspect a short stint as elder au pair is in my future. I want to send his happy ass to his local senior center a few days a week because a) they will feed him, b) he's so damned lonely, c) it will give him something to bitch to/about, and d) it would be revenge for sending us kids to every damned Saturday morning class (I was an oddity because I never got to watch The Banana Splits). But I think I have a better shot at getting him out of the house if I set up the transportation, plan for the meals, and maybe even go with him the first time. If I prepay, he won't waste my 2.00.
So what's that got to do with the little boy in the cap? Nothing...because I haven't heard from him. I'd like to accept the nomination for president of the Sibs are Losers club.
My head hurts so much I haven't finished my second sock.