Good News, Bad News (or is it the other way around?)

You may not be able to tell from my profile pic, but I am a ginger.  According to the characters on “South Park”, that means I have no soul, and I can’t walk outside in the daylight.  I know the writers were just making a goof, and I appreciate good laugh.  However, I do have sun damage in the form of freckles, and my eyelashes and eyebrows have a sandy, almost clear pigmentation – or should I say lack of?, creating that distinct “gingeritis” look.

What this also mean is that gingers are more susceptible to sun damage, wrinkles and skin cancer – wheee!  >:-(   So that means, the older I become, the more likely it is that I’m going to get cancer…but I think this stat belongs to everyone.  Well, I happened to notice a couple of brown, raised spots where there hadn’t been any before, and a dark irregular freckle that was new.  Not only am I a ginger, but I’m also a borderline hypochondriac who knows way too much medical terminology, due in part to the fact that I was raised by my mother who worked as a medical transcriptionist and I myself have taken college anatomy and physiology courses and worked for doctors.  So, you understand why I had to make an appointment.

Good news:  all is well.  He examined me for irregularities and found nothing out of line.  Yea!

On the same day, my husband, Rick, who is basically on-call 24/7 for his job, receives a summons to work.  He didn’t have much sleep the night before because of the bears in our neighborhood.  You see, trash day is on Wednesday and the garbage men get here fairly early.  No one in this household is an early-bird.  We tried putting the garbage out the night before, but every time we did so, the bears violated our trash and the disposal company charged $5 extra per can to clean up the mess.  We were blithely unaware of this fact until we got our first bill in the mail and it was 25% more than what we were quoted.  Joy.

So now we have to put the garbage out in the early morning, which means, if the man is home, it’s his job.  And it is a job.  A one-way trip to the curb involves a trip down a steep, long (about 150 feet) driveway while hauling two full 32 gallon containers on a horizontal dolly.  It can be daunting.

Since Rick got only  3 hours of sleep before he woke up to take care of this, he was pretty beat when he got the call for work.  As sleepy as I can get, I have yet to fall asleep behind the wheel.  There are ways around it, and if there isn’t, pull over where you can and take a nap. Seriously.  Rick has been falling asleep behind the wheel for as long as I can remember, and I am surprised that nothing has happened.

Until now.

He woke up when the right side of his car was grinding up against the guard rail on I-80 west.  No one was else was involved, and Rick managed to regain proper control of the car.  Needless to say, he woke up.  His once beautiful, well maintained auto is now good and creased on the passenger side and can’t be used for ingress/egress for the cab.  Considering what could have happened, we really should be counting our blessings…but why would we do that?

What a day.  Yikes.

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