... my dear, darling daughter wants to get married.
... my dear, darling husband had his "trial spine stimulator" removed.
... my dear, darling car is wreaking havoc on my life.
... my dear, darling daughter's cat adores me
... my dear, darling new house is being built faster than the speed of light ... and this is not good. Not good because my dear, darling old house ain't near ready for being put on the market.
I took Rick back to the hospital yesterday to have the trial "machine" ripped off of his back and the whole experience evaluated. He passed with flying colors even though he had no idea what he was saying most of the time. The man is completely sleep-deprived and I could see his brain exaggerating about how well the machine worked. First it was 400%, then 75%, then 90%. We let the 90% be the marker and yes, he was then approved for the next surgery that'll happen in three weeks. Oh joy. Another week, like we just had for him to recover from surgery ... Whee.
Then my car decided to die and, of course, it was just fine when I got it over to the dealer. Of course it was. I hate my car. It lies. Maybe it exaggerates, too. Maybe it just didn't want it's "machine" ripped out of its back.
And finally, there's a wedding pending. And since I've never met the "boy", I'm about to rip the spine stimulator out of my dear, darling daughter's brain. Uh huh. No cash is coming out of my pocket till I at least meet my future son-in-law.
Do you suppose a broken down Nissan Rogue would be a good wedding gift?
How about a cat?