No, this is not an homage to Chinua Achebe. I need to check my horoscope from yesterday because things, literally, fell apart. And no, this isn't a metaphorical falling apart, so please don't fret that my marriage is in trouble.
I was home with the kiddies yesterday because daycare was closed. We had a lovely time frolicking at the indoor playground at the mall. Don't wince -- I'm not exposing my children to wanton consumerism, well, wantonly. The Boy and the Girl must sound like a dinner bell to mosquitoes of the world, because every time we play outside during balmy months they come home with at least three new bug bites. Have you ever told a four-year-old to stop scratching? Doesn't work.
But here's what happened... Sunday evening, I developed a bit of a headache. Monday morning, the headache turned into a throbbing lower jaw. Tuesday morning, it turned into a blind headache. Canny health expert that I am, I deduced that I had an abscess. My crown, which was the subject of several posts in 2006, fell out a few months ago. A visit to my dentis revealed that the remaining tooth was too nubby for another crown, and that, in fact, I now need an implant in yon gap. And that walking around with a crater in your gum exposes you to awesome possibilities, like abscesses. I'm on antibiotics to kill the infection in the root of the nub. Thus starts the arduous process of glamming up my smile again.
So, what else fell apart? At one point the Girl needed a diaper change, so I trailed her upstairs. I noticed the carpet on the pie-shaped step at the top of the flight seemed to have shifted a bit. Oh, it had. It shifted right off of the tack board. I didn't want the Girl, or the Boy, or any of us to step on that wicked looking thing, so I poked the carpet back down on top of it. Yeah, except I poked my index finger as well. Huzzah.
Next, as I was scrubbing down the grill (it was a bit yicky from our tiny cookout on Sunday), I looked over the deck railing and noticed that wildlife had foraged in my garbage can. Somehow, it (or they?) knocked over the can and got the lid off -- the lid that snaps on and is theoretically locked by the handles. So, cleaning that up was fun.
When I returned to the house, I needed to wash my hands and slap a bandage on the tack board puncture on my finger. So, I scrubbed at the kitchen sink and then reached underneath for my First Aid kit. But I encountered a puddle of water. Huh? I cleared out the rest of the junk under there (bug spray, cleansers, etc.), and found a quarter-inch deep puddle. When I ran the water in the sink, I saw where the hole was coming from: a pea-sized gash in the garbage disposal. I pondered what could have caused that hole -- a fork? a sturdy green bean? a tack board? -- but realized I didn't care, and that I need a sink that doesn't flood. Three hours later, Mr. Plumber replaced the garbage disposal for a tidy sum, but it was money well spent.
Clearly, this is the biggest sign EVER that I should not be a stay-at-home mother, because my house would collapse if I were home with the kids for more than the weekends and an odd day here and there.
UPDATE: Forgot to mention that I also managed to ping off one of the plastic nosepads from my glasses last night. You do not appreciate just how necessary those things are until you have some metal gouging a crater into the bridge of your nose. Thankfully, I had adhesive goo I could use to mend my specs 'til I can find time to get to the optometrist. Likely, though, I will just continue to reapply the goo 'til I go for an exam and new glasses.