It’s over 90 degrees, sticky and guess who still doesn’t have a working air conditioner downstairs. I need a nice iceberg to sit on. That would work nicely. I did get to spend some of the day in the car, which does have air conditioning, so running errands wasn’t too horrible.
The first thing on my list of outdoor stuff was to meet my sister who had an appointment. I parked in the back of the building. Funny, it doesn’t look like a medical building, but it is the right address. There doesn’t seem to be an entrance in the back, which I think is odd for a medical building but hey, who am I to dictate how a building should look. I walk around to the front. Uh, something is definitely wrong here. I pull out my cell phone.
“Janet, is it #600?”
“That’s the address I have written down.”
“Well the address is wrong because this is a post office.” Turns out the building was across the street and my sister had written down the wrong address. I wonder if that’s where she sends payments to.
And on a total tangent, I plan on telling everyone, and that includes the cyberworld, how I was in labor 22 years ago today. Steve wasn’t actually born until the 27th but I want everyone to know just how many hours I was in labor for, until that emergency C-section. That’s his punishment for yesterday. Last night I walked up behind him and hugged him. He whirls around and says, “Try that again, punk!” I did but unfortunately he’s stronger than I am.
I have the opposite problem. My A/C works great in the house but the car’s air isn’t working. It makes for a bad drive home from work. It was 93 when I got home today and I was sweating in places I didn’t know I could sweat.
So just exactly how many hours were you in labor before the C-section? I hope Steve has a very Happy Birthday tomorrow! Your kids sound SO incredibly witty and fun. Monkling Punk. I like the sound of that. I will not rub it in that not only does my air conditioner work great, but now that I had the ducts cleaned, all of that conditioned air really gets through. But I can empathize with your plight, and also Katy’s. Mostly, though, I’m just glad it’s not me because it would not be fun and it would not be pretty.