Thursday, July 14, 2011


It's been one of "those" days. Erinn and Vanessa stayed with her mom in Thunder Bay last night, leaving Phillip and I to fend for ourselves . . . which wasn't too hard since I like to cook, and what else do two guys need but a couple square meals a day? A few culinary duties was not enough to make it one of "those" days.

I was supposed to meet the Bell technician who was going to move the phone line for our paging system to a new location today (a long story). This was my third attempt to connect with him before the unspecified deadline to have the paging equipment moved, after which I will be in trouble if it isn't done (part of the long story). I was anxious, but it was still not enough to make it one of "those" days yet.

Our dog Sasha was acting a bit off yesterday, and I suspected back trouble, which has been a recurring problem for the past 9 months. The plan was for Erinn to bring home some meds to help her through, but this morning the dog was very obviously in terrible pain. When I touched the side of her head, she let out a yelp/howl/squeal like I've never heard before, and I thought, "Oh crap, it's her damaged tooth that finally abscessed." One of "those" days had begun.

I wasn't sure it was the tooth, so in true scatterbrain fashion I went to work. After all, I had no car to take her the hour and a half drive to the vet's office, and the Bell guy was coming sometime, and there was that unknown deadline . . .

I didn't get any work done. It's funny. Actually it isn't funny at all. I can manage all kinds of difficult and nasty emergency calls, and only be a little scatterbrained. Afterwards, I suffer from Scatterbrained Syndrome for a while if it was ugly, but that's par for the course, at least for me.

When it comes to domestic emergencies though, I'm a hopeless case. I kept wondering when the Bell guy would get here and how late the vet's office was open and whether an abscessed tooth was fatal and how would I feel if the dog died and who cares about an emergency paging system anyway . . . my dog is in terrible pain . . .

I called Bell. They patched me through to the technician, to whom I explained the dilemma. He offered to put me first on the list, and said he could be in Upsala by 11:00. I said okay and hung up. Then I called Erinn and dumped all my scatterbraininess on her. She couldn't do much to help, and said it was my call.

[Side note: when you are scatterbrained, you need someone to say, "Thou shalt do thus-and-so or fire will fall from heaven and consume you." Saying, "It's your call," doesn't have the same effect.]

Thirty minutes later I called Bell again and cancelled the appointment. Screw the unknown deadline. Screw the whole 911 system.

Then I called the vet and made an appointment for 2:00, even though I had no car. I called my parents, who graciously offered their van. I told Phillip he could fend for himself for lunch. Nothing like a little decisiveness to make a scatterbrained day better.

I didn't hit a moose on the way to town, and the appointment went well, except that Sasha nearly bit the vet's hand off when he touched her ear. He said there was nothing wrong with her teeth or ears, and that it was indeed her back that was causing the pain. He didn't say I was a scatterbrained idiot for thinking it was her tooth (modern vets are nice like that). He administered the appropriate drugs and I went to the lobby to wait for a prescription. When the nice lady called my name, I scooped up my poor pet and went to the desk.

"That will be [such and such] dollars," she says. I didn't care about the amount, I just wanted to get out of there and drive the hour and a half home. All I had to do was pull out my wallet . . . my wallet . . . my right hip pocket was empty. This was really one of "those" days.

"Um, this is really dumb," I say in true scatterbrained fashion. "I was sure I had my wallet. My wife is somewhere in town and I can phone her cell . . ."

"What's that black thing in your left hand," the nice lady asks with a smile.

"Um, yeah that'd be my wallet," I say, hoping the room full of calm and collected pet owners hadn't noticed. "It's been one of 'those' days."


It's evening, and Sasha is sleeping peacefully, after about 30 minutes of scatterbraininess that undoubtedly was a side effect of the drugs. I have no such excuse for myself.

The Bell guy might come again tomorrow. Erinn is definitely coming home tonight. "Those" days eventually do pass.


  1. OH YES, one of THOSE days. Even the dog looks as though she is thinking, "This is one of those days." So glad you didn't really forget your wallet.

  2. Ha ha ha... I have looked for my wallet while it was in my hand...LOL. js

  3. Barb, she was having one of "those" days when I took that photo. I had left her out during a spring snow squall. That's her "what's-the matter-with-you-idiot-humans" look.

    Jesse, glad to know that even expert rope technicians are not exempt from wallet issues :-).


Have a comment? Go for it! It's lonely out here in bloggerland . . .

Search This Blog