First of all, thank you for the incredibly amusing comment thread on the previous post. The consensus is 36 instead of 6 in the numerator and + instead of – in the denominator and we seem to be good to go.
Now on to the subject of this post.
On Saturday Kid 1 had a birthday party. It was superfun, it was Playboy-themed, and it was held in a gym owned by her friend’s parents. One of the people at the party was bipolar. Everyone knew this, but nobody had actually witnessed it before.
Everyone present was an adult, and they had beer pong, and a silly bike competition, and dancing. Out of nowhere the person in question jumped up, flipped over the birthday cake, and started screaming obscenities. Everybody was terribly disturbed, the party was ruined, the mess was cleaned, and the person’s mom arrived in the middle of the night to take her home.
The kids were shook up enough to stay an extra day in a hotel room in Austin, because neither one of them wanted to chance driving. Witnessing genuine mental illness, especially when it becomes a violent episode, can be profoundly disturbing. Luckily nobody was hurt.
On Sunday our orange cat Tuna, who is beloved by everyone in the family, sprawled on my desk. I went to pet her and saw a gaping bloody wound on her thigh. A chunk of skin about the size of a dollar coin had disappeared. No idea how it happened. She is a rescue cat, so she does make occasional trips outside, and we think she might have tangled with a raccoon.
It’s Easter Sunday. Everyone is closed. We find an emergency vet, we drive her over there, we wait for three hours, they look at it, find no signs of infection, and tell us to go home, be cause they have a dog with a toothpick stuck in his throat and a dog who ate a bottle of tylenol and Tuna’s wound isn’t severe. Sitting in ER vet was awful. People are coming in with their pets and just bawling. In the end I wanted to cry just out of empathy.
We ended up coming back at 10 pm at night to get Tuna. She is in good spirits and we are having hard time keeping her cone of shame on her. Her leg is shaved and she is very perplexed by this development. She is on house arrest until further notice. It’s taken supernatural vigilance to keep her inside. She’d even managed to escape at the vet. Seriously, we’re sitting in the room waiting for them to bring her back and we hear, “Billy, the kitty!” There is a sound of commotion and then in comes Billy, who was six foot tall and built like a knight looking for some armor carrying self-satisfied Tuna.
Today, while at the gym, I received a frantic phone call from Kid 1. She was driving to her coding boot camp in Austin through heavy traffic. It was raining. A small convertible changed lanes in front of her. She had a choice to hit the convertible with her large vehicle or go off the road. She went off the road on the grassy shoulder. The grass was slick, the shoulder was sloped, and she nearly rolled over. She is fine, but she was terribly shook up. It was frightening and awful. Fortunately, she made it to campus safe.
That’s three, right? Three bad things. I am very ready for it to fix itself now. Something good needs to happen.