It's a Good Sign, or ...
Wed., September 15, 02:06 PM
Do you watch for signs and portents? Mostly I don’t; we can’t read the future. But every once in a while, it seems as if someone is talking to me.
Yesterday, for example, I was supposed to sit in on an “interdisciplinary conference” at the nursing home that is caring for Husband. Not only was the drive easy – since I had to go by myself – but there was a parking spot in the very first row. A sign. It would go well.
As a matter of fact, it did. Husband sat in too, so that we could ask him questions and explain things to him. Sometimes I know the right words to use to make him understand. He has some issues, but they are being addressed. If that had been done at the last nursing home… But as we know, “what if” in the past is fiction.
Anyhow, that did go well.
Today, on the other hand… We had an agenda for this morning. I had an early morning errand, after which I would return home and take U.D. to the airport. Once she was on her way, I might do some shopping or stop by to see Husband. I don’t work on Wednesdays; this should be a nice easy day.
Returning from my errand, I found the road blocked. They’re paving today. Could I get home? The roadman assured me I would be able to go around and get to my block, the last on the street.
So I went around the block, drove up the one-way street (always an extra constraint), and turned into my block to find equipment already there. “I have two questions,” I told the workers. “First, can I get into my driveway? Second, will I be able to get out again? My daughter has a plane to catch.”
Well, they would move the equipment that was blocking my driveway, but we wouldn’t have much time to get out again. And then the street would probably be blocked till noon. So I ran into the house yelling, “Murphy!” (As in Murphy’s law.) U.D. was finishing her breakfast and packing last-minute items – there should have been plenty of time, since the guys didn’t think they’d be doing this end before ten. But I was looking up the block and they seemed to be working awfully fast. This was not going to be my day. (That’s the “sign.”)
I pulled out the car (so they’d see I was there) and went back in to rush her. She was fine, I was stressed. Because I knew that if she missed the plane, I would be dealing with one unhappy woman. She got into the car and I drove off. Within three blocks I suggested that she drive.
I left her at the local airport without incident and decided I would go into Sam’s Club to look for some items Husband needs. While I was at Sam’s, the phone rang. They canceled U.D.’s flight because the pilot didn’t show up. If that’s normal procedure, no wonder the airline – which used to be so nice – is now filing for Chapter XI. It’s okay, though. The airline is not only rerouting her, it’s to a better flight, and she expects to get there a couple of hours early. Fine.
After shopping at Sam’s – where I didn’t find everything I was looking for – I was feeling tired and a little hungry. (It was about five hours since I ate breakfast.) I decided to stop in at Denny’s, one of our regular haunts. I could get something to eat and rest my feet and talk to Theresa, who has been serving us for many years.
Denny’s seems to be closed. Not only is there a chain across the front door, there were men in the lot in the process of bringing down the big sign. We’ve been going to that Denny’s since before the kids could drive. What a bummer!
I did a little more shopping and got back onto Route 1. I didn’t feel my reflexes were good enough at that point for the turnpike. I visited with Husband for an hour or so. He actually got dressed this morning. I told him all the stuff I’ve just told you, and the only thing that really got to him was the news about Denny’s. He was in generally good spirits. I got home around two. I am bushed.
My feet hurt.
