now that's cold

For some reason, reintroducing food to my germ-ravaged system (after the losing battle I fought vs a gross stomach/intestinal bug) was no easy task.  I ate little bits and it seemed like my insides wrapped my intestines around each bite in a painful little knot to inspect it fully before allowing it to progress any further.

I was writhing on the couch in pain when Coach resurfaced after the social time he forced himself to bask in while dropping Mini off at his sister's house.  He ran down to the basement fridge for something and when he entered the family room, he said these words:  'Ernie, we have an emergency!'

She's a beaut, right?  Nothing like spending
 over a $1,000 on something that offers
 no aesthetic value to the house.
 Add to that the $875 for the teen car's
misfiring engine/spark plug issue,
and the mega bucks we spent
 on flights to Vancouver, and you
will start to feel my pain.  Ouch.

Oh.  I thought I WAS an emergency.  Like, eating is something I enjoy - when was my body going to reinstate that past-time as a function again?  And when would we declare that an emergency?

This was apparently not all about me, so Coach continued, 'The water heater is leaking.'  He called our plumber.  Our plumber is amazing, and promised to be there in the morning.  Coach reviewed the garage door code with Plumber so he could let himself in and not have to deal with Puke-zilla (me!), who hadn't upchucked in like 10 hours but was not quite 'over' it.

Coach had to teach a class on Saturday and Sunday, so I needed to be a function again by morning to assume the single parent role.  Coach invited Reggie and Curly to shower right away, while there was still hot water.  Me?  Well, I am a morning shower kind of person, so my must-feel-better-morning just had another component added to it.  Coach was planning to shower at the health club on his way to his class.  That might work for me too, if I felt well enough.

Saturday morning arrived, and the storm in my gut had subsided.  My head had a slow throb that increased as the day went by, but I was ready to drop Curly off at a 4 hour St. Pat's show-team Irish dance practice and then attend four basketball games.  Two for Reg in one direction and two for Curly in the other direction.  All a decent distance from the house.  And by 'ready' I mean - I wanted to shower!

I went down to the basement and asked Plumber when he was going to be done /when could I shower.  Plumber said, 'Oh, like 40 minutes.'  Perfect.  I could drive Curly to the studio and then return and shower before driving to watch Reggie's game.  Another teammate was driving him to the game.  I didn't really want to add an additional 'shower-at-the-health-club' step, so this would work well.

I was ready to hop in the shower, and was waiting for the water to get warm.  And waiting.  That's when I realized that I just could NOT catch a damn break.  The water heater may have been officially installed, but it was not going to heat up our water in the blink of an eye.  Why had the plumber not mentioned that when I asked him about when I could shower?!  I really can't complain because this man had gotten us out of many jams in the past.  Like my uncanny gift at clogging the kitchen sink each and every time we are loading the car to head out of town.

No one was home when I took my tortuous icy cold shower (at this point I had no time to head to the club in the wrong direction).  I did my best imitation of Florence Jenkins in the movie featuring her awful opera singing.  I could not help but release guttural hollers as I doused myself in the frigid water.  Nothing like a cold shower to ramp up an after-puke headache.