We were back home this weekend but head back south to San Diego at noon Monday. At least this time it's with the hubby. He has boat testing this week, so we get to tag along and stay in a hotel and have someone else make the bed and clean the shower. We'll visit my Dad, too.
Dad update: When I got to his house at noon last Mon., I took him to urgent care, where they of course said they were admitting him to the hospital because of his foot infection (which had hospitalized him the previous week). At 9 p.m. he got into his hospital room. A lovely day, really. NOT. The Girl and I got into bed at 11 p.m. and were back at the hospital by 7:30 a.m. the next day to talk to doctors. Blah blah, antibiotics, infection, possible surgery... lather, rinse, repeat long days. Had surgery Wed. to remove a bit of bone and clean out the wound. I had to kick some doctors' asses so they wouldn't discharge him Thurs. On Friday afternoon Dad headed to a rehab/skilled nursing facility (aka convalescent home) for three weeks of IV antibiotics and rehab. And did I mention he was a total butthead the entire time I was there? No? Um, yeah, butthead. Gigantic butthead. I even got mad at him and told him to be nice to me and the staff or he wouldn't have anyone helping him.
I want a pedicure. And time away from my lovely child. And a book. And time to read it. Or even People magazine and time to read it.
And is it too much to ask for silky warm dark chocolate to be poured all over me in the tub? Make sure it gets up high enough so I can drink it without having to move much, OK? Thanks.
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