Wow. It's been quite a week, and today is only Thursday. First there was my birthday on Sunday, with the Sushi House in Alameda, and Beverly's craft store, and cheesecake at my oldest daughter's house with the crazy-funny grandchildren.
Then Monday i lost my cell phone. Feeling somewhat philosophical, since i've done this before and found it before, i got on with my life.
Tuesday i went to part 2 of Chronic Pain Management Clinic's overview class. We discussed drugs of many shapes and sizes and how they work, and i think some of us tucked away some ideas for "dang, that one sounds like fun!" We received our Letters of Recommendation from the Clinic staff for which group they think we should be in. Mine is the intensive one--5 weeks of 4 hours 4 days a week, and a family support group meeting on Friday afternoons for those 5 weeks to which we bring a family or friend support person. They've found, in the 27 years this clinic has been running, that people with support tend to retain the positive results of the program much longer. i had mixed feelings about being put in the intensive program--do they think i really need straightening out? Do they think i'm that messed up? Or did i just exaggerate on the many-paged questionaire? Or are they just trying to kill me and get me out of the Kaiser health system? One thing was for sure--where many people got appointments with their letter because the staff felt they needed more information, mine came appointment free, because, you know me, there were words to spare on my questionaire!
At this point, still no phone. But i'm not too worried. It will show up.
That day, Tuesday, was also my 31st anniversary, not to mention the anniversary of the whole 9-11 awfulness. But we were there first--we had staked our claim on 9-11 many years before. And a side note, i know 4 other couples with anniversaries on 9-11, how weird is that? If it were a date in June i might expect it, but September? We celebrated by Dean going to work and me going to the pain clinic class. i was pretty tired by the end of all that, (plus the shopping at the HUGE Michael's craft store in Union City where the clinic is) so we ate leftover pizza for dinner and stayed home! Ah, the wild things we are, 31 years into this relationship. We'll celebrate on a weekend, we decided. Not this coming one, however, because one of those couples who share the date is having a 25th wedding anniversary party on Sunday, my good friend Julia and her hubby Greg.
Still no phone--we've called my daughter, asked the grandkids, checked under the furniture in the house, and the seats of the cars. i've even cleared out some stacks of papers on the kitchen counter in hopes of finding it buried in their depths. But no.
Wednesday night my good friend Melanie comes over to help me play with stuff for our friend Julia's anniversary photo album. We both love all the crafty gadgets and goodies, and agree that shopping for the stickers/papers/inks/pens/stamps etc for the project is just as much fun as actually using them. Therefore, we both have a mighty fine assortment to choose from at any given moment. Plus she is good for my cooking confidence--i've never thought of myself as a particularly good cook. i mean, nobody has ever starved to death on my watch, but they aren't exactly lined up on the front steps for my recipes and meals, either. But she tells me i am a fine cook, and eats what i make without complaint, but then we tend to like the same stuff--pasta, comfort food creaminess, chocolate. Anyway, we had eaten and were playing with the table full of scrapbooking goodies when my youngest daughter called from the train in Spain (falls mainly on the plain? No wait--that's the rain--.)
"We have a situation," she said somewhat calmly for someone calling at great expense from their cell phone in a foreign country. "We had bedbugs in the sleeper car on the train," pausing to let me absorb that bit of information. "And they're in everything. Do you have any idea how to get rid of them?" Well, if she was calling me for support and help, i may have not made the best choice of responses, as i immediately got very icked out. EEEEWWWW!!! BUGS!!!!! Apparently she had been unable to sleep, and turned on the light, and saw the little bugs all over their stuff and they had bites on them as well. EEEEEEEWWWW shudder.... i'm itching now just thinking about it.
"Let me go jump on the computer and look bedbugs up on the internet," i say. And jump i did. Nasty little buggers they are, bloodsuckers with an attitude. i read her what i'm finding, and most of it is descriptions of the little lovelies--who needs that, she has the actual bugs to study--HOW do you get RID of them?? While we're looking at that, hubby Luis goes off to find someone in the train to tell--they're in Spain, he speaks Spanish, it seems right. But apparently there aren't a lot of people up in the middle of the night Spain train time. i read what i can find about how to kill the little buggers (i'll never again be quite as casual about saying "the little buggers") in between shuddering and saying "Oh i'm so sorry! That is so gross and disturbing!" She promises to let me know what they find out. It is so bad that Luis picks up his jacket and the bugs sprinkle out. This is NOT how sleeper trains are on movies. Often someone is knifed to death or poisoned or some such thing, but there are never bedbugs.
All evening my dear hubby asks me questions about my phone at intervals: do i rememember picking it up Sunday night? Where else could it possibly be? Twenty minutes of silence. Did you check your pockets?
Melanie calls it a night, i stack our supplies for further use on Saturday. Hubby has already headed up to bed--he gets up at a time that i could much more easily stay up till.
i do all the usual light-turning-off and door locking and go upstairs where i flip the light on in our closet to find my jammies. Something catches my eye--a smallish dark object laying in the floor of the closet--"i just found my phone!!!" i exclaim happily. Even from where he is already trying to sleep Dean is happy.
i take that moment to plug the phone in (it's quite thoroughly dead) and text a message to Corinne on the night train in Spain: "Nighty night, and don't let the you-know-whats bite."
And it's only Thursday.