How I spent my evenings

This has been One of Those Weeks. Monday night Child and I tried again, I think it was the fifth time, to return or exchange the blouse she gave me for my birthday. She again looked at me and said, "Do you have the receipt?" Uhm, no. I didn't buy it.

So we went out to dinner for her birthday, as planned. Well, we had planned lunch, and lunch to me pretty much ends around 3 pm. We went about 5 pm. That is lunch to Child. She works a late shift. She wanted prime rib. We went to a nice place and she ordered hers medium rare. I ordered mine rare. Generally I have noticed that people who order it medium rare, medium, medium well - they are more flexible. Anyone who orders it rare or well done mean it. I want mine barely warmed up. Someone who wants it well done does not want to see any pink at all. I don't want to see any brown.

Child's came perfectly medium rare. I wasn't paying too much attention to mine as we were chatting and catching up on stuff. When I cut into my meat, however, I realized something was Wrong. Yeah, it was brown. Inside and out. The texture was wrong, cooked way too much. The waitress came back and I reminded her that I had ordered it rare, and that my meat was definitely medium, if not medium well. She agreed. (SO - why did she give it to me, was my thought?)

The manager came out and gave me the rare steak speech, which I have heard before. Yeah, he prefers his that way too, but gee, they didn't have any left. I politely asked why I wasn't given that information when I ordered it. He offered me another cut. Then he said he would 'try' to get me a rare piece. What, he was going to another restaurant? I wanted my potato back. I was hungry, very hungry, and had spent a couple of minutes getting my baked potato just the way I wanted it. I just smiled politely and said, "Thank you." I didn't want anyone to pee on my dinner.

Sigh. I not only got another prime rib, but a new potato. I had to start all over. The meat was medium rare, but I ate it. I didn't want to make an issue during Child's birthday lunch. I just wanted what I had ordered, but it was pretty good anyway. We had fun, talked about silly things and made our plans for the rest of the evening. We did some shopping around in the area and bemoanedthe fact that again, we didn't have time for me to show her the condo I am considering having built.

It doesn't end yet. Wednesday night we got together again when she called me about 5 pm and said, "Where is the nearest hospital to where I am and I want you to meet me there." "OK, where are you?" We ascertained the nearest hospital, I offered to go get her, and we met at emergency.

Child would not want me to write about her personal medical issues, but she has a recurring Thing that she has never had tested. The Thing was bothering her more than normal and she feared passing out. This is the Child who had "a stomach ache" once at work, worked her whole waitress shift, went to emergency to get her stomach pumped (amazing that she even considered that), and had her appendix out within a few hours. Stomach ache, indeed. Worked on her feet for 8 hours with a hot appendix without concern.

Anyway, we met at emergency and I forgot to take any toys with me. Yes, Child just turned 26. You think I spoil my dogs? They are just like the Child. She needs to be entertained all the time. She decided she felt better and wanted to go home. She was going to withhold information from the doctor. She didn't want any IVs. She didn't want any shots. She wanted to go home. She hadn't eaten all day, and she is hypoglycemic (not why she felt dizzy). She got crabby. I hadn't eaten dinner, either. I was getting an urge to leave. A friend of hers was called, and he came too. Child was told she was getting an IV, a blood test, and a breathing treatment. I considered going home and hoping the hospital had good damage coverage.

She was told by the doctor to quit smoking or she will have chronic bronchitis and also asthma in the winters. She told me it's "not a good time to quit." Of course it isn't. Who has heard a smoker say, "gee, this is a good time for me to quit." She reminds me that I smoked 20 years ago. But I quit, didn't I? I know it's not easy. I also know that if you say it's not a good time now, that it never will be, until you get that lung cancer diagnosis. Then it's really still not a good time, because it's too late.

After 5 hours, we left. Child and friend went to dinner. I went home hungry. Child has been referred to a specialist, and she probably won't go. She can't plan past dark, and having something checked out when it isn't bothering her seems a waste of time to her. Yes, I will remind her more than once.

The next day she called me and wanted to take care of the blouse and see the condo. See, she is growing up. She felt fine, of course. We went to the condo and she loves it. She wants me to upgrade everything and completely finish the full basement and give it to her. She wants the basement all to herself for free. Well, her and her cat that I am allergic to. While I realize that I may end up with her living with me again at any time, I am hardly going to encourage this arrangement. So now I have made my decision regarding getting the finished basement upgrade. I knew I didn't need it. I really don't. It comes with a family room area with a projection TV, a complete bar with a dishwasher and small refrigerator, a very large bedroom, and a full bathroom. This would all be on a floor I would not go to except maybe every three months or so to get something I had placed in the storage area. I don't need that.

Then we took care of the blouse. She still hadn't found the receipt, but the blouse was not on sale, so I figured we were good. We were good, since she bought it at Nordstrom and the tag serves as a gift receipt. I found a pretty blouse in the petite department and got that. We wandered around the mall and Child got her duvet cover from Restoration Hardware that she has been wanting. It's very pretty, but mostly white. I didn't recommend that color for her, OK? But it is washable.

Last night I spent dealing with the eating, peeing, pooping, wobbly beagle, Molly, who didn't have a seizure yesterday for her shot. She went to the servant bell every 90 seconds or so to demand food all night long. The servant bell is a bell I put on the door to the dog run because both beagles will just stand at the door and wait for it to magically open for them. They learned immediately to bang on the bell, and the servant bell was born. If they want anything, they bang on the bell. I took the bell away last night. I couldn't take it any more. The servant was tired of working overtime. I was up until about 1 am.

Molly got me up at 3 am to pee last night. She got me up at 7 am to eat. Baby got me up at 8 am to pee. I kept going back to bed. I was tired, I was so tired. All I want is one night of sleep without having to get up due to screaming cats, peeing dogs, puking animals or hungry beasts. How did I do this when I worked? Child trained me for years. I am good at it.

No, I don't have the tiny blind, deaf poodle after all. I felt guilty saying I would do it if she can't get someone else, but Molly and little Rosie don't get along very well. Rosie is afraid of Molly and Molly was at risk last night. Rosie's mommy found someone and I told her to leave my number available in case of issues. So I could still get Rosie, but I don't think so. It's not that I mind - I know what it's like not to be able to find someone to watch pets. But Rosie is special needs and even more spoiled than my girls, and I am afraid of sleeping with her on my bed. She is incontinent, for one thing, but I would end up sleeping on the couch with her in my lap, and that means no sleep at all. I can do that for one night, but three might be hard. But I would do it if needed. I wouldn't want to terrify a 3 lb fluff that can't see or hear.

But Wiz the screaming cat would.