After a long weekend all alone with the hubby and not much excitement except a knock down drag out about the proper way for him to take his medicine, today was the “you just thought you didn’t work anymore” day. Not much sleep; the mister was restless. He had taken a muscle relaxer to help his pain, but he gets so loopy on them that I can’t sleep well knowing that he may go the wrong way to the bathroom. He also talks in his sleep when he takes a muscle relaxer. Last night he told me to go hang the clothes on the line about ten times. I guess I wasn’t going cause he kept telling me.
He got up at 7 am. I wasn’t sure if he was sleep walking or awake so I jumped up (woke up, fell out of bed, dragged a comb across my head) and went to the kitchen with him. I had to go to the store today and pick up prescriptions and go to the bank. I got my bags to take to the store, got the post office box key, cell phone, bottle of water, and purse and headed out to the car. By this time, the Mister was throwing up sick and barely able to walk. I went back to check on him, got him situated on the couch and went back to the car to hurry to get my stuff done. The car wouldn’t start. Battery so dead there was only one click, not even a series of clicks. I knew I had two options – jump it off or get out the battery charger. I decided on the first and began to see how best to get the truck in to the front of my car. My car was in the carport. In front of it was two battery-powered ride on grandkid toys, a patio then a turn to the left has my compost bin, two lawn chairs, two saw horses, various pieces of lumber and a few other things that were not in their proper place of course. Thinking I would not be able to get the truck through that obstacle course, I opted to push my car back out of the carport just enough to get the truck close enough for the jumper cable to reach. I had hell getting the car into neutral so I could push it, but finally did and began to push. There is just enough of a hump at the end of the carport to keep rolling it back the wrong way when it got to it. I thought about getting out and going to the front to push it over the hump, but if it went over the hump there was an incline that it would roll right down, and I had visions of me chasing my own car down the driveway right out into the street. About that time, the mister came outside on the walker with one sock on and one barefoot. It’s bad enough that he needs the walker to steady himself, but he can’t walk barefoot at all. Hell, he couldn’t go barefoot when he was a young buck, so his possibility of falling had increased about 200%. When he saw what was going on, he said the words that changed the world (as usual), “I believe your battery is in the trunk.” Of course, I had never owned a car with a battery in the trunk, and granted it did make it much easier to get the truck to it, but damn it would have been nice to have had sense enough to know that before I tried to move a car on my own. Moved the truck; jumped the car and off I go to the mechanic. I guess the mister has known this mechanic for 50 years, and his parting word to me were, “Go straight to Bill Mechanic’s and tell him to get out there and help you now.” I don’t have the same force that the mister has so I decided to wait to tell him until after he looked at my car.
I went straight to the mechanic and he checked the alternator – it was fine – then he checked the battery and said it was dead. He didn’t think that it had ever been changed and it was a 2006 model. Of course he couldn’t get the battery until the next morning so I will have to go back. He assured me I could drive it and do my errands as long as I didn’t kill the car.
Off I went to the drugstore, and on the way out ran into an old friend and his wife. We had a good long talk. Next to the store, went through quite quick, forgot several things because of the hurry I was in. Got the unfriendliest checker, and had to sack my own groceries and load the the car. I like the checker, but I really have to work to get her to talk or smile, and today I was not successful. Went through the drive thru at the bank to get some change to send all the grandkids a little summer spending money and headed the 10 miles to home. About a mile down the road every electrical thing on my car started doing weird things just like the movie Close Encounters of the Third Kind. I decided I best hurry, and I put the pedal to the metal to the tune of 90 miles per hours and raced the next nine miles to the house. I kept thinking a policeman would stop me so at least I would have some help if I got stranded, but of course I could have robbed a bank and had Bonnie and Clyde in the backseat getting it on, and there would have been no police today. So I made it the 10 miles with aliens having taken over my car. As soon as I got home the mister was coming to the bed with his “cough up” can. (Kids called it that long ago; you know a nickname for everything, even the can you vomit in.) “Get me a 7up,” was his first feeble request. Then he wanted to go back to the couch; then decided not to; then decided to. Got to the couch and moved all the vomit paraphernalia. Got the groceries put up. Mowed the lot across the road from us. Came in with “oh, my aching back.”
The remainder of the day went 7up, chicken noodle soup, answer the telephone, get me a blanket, turn up the air, turn on the fan, more 7up, medicine for upset stomach. I finally convinced him that if he could find something on TV that would get him interested, it might take his mind off his ailments. Rockford Files and Heat of the Night did the trick.
Went outside and fed the horse and rubbed him down with fly spray. He was nicer to me.
Came in and got the mister bathed and tucked into bed. He is so weak, but sleeping peacefully and now I will to. And so ends a day of Laurel and Hardy, The Three Stooges and Abbott and Costello come to the Back Alley Stables of the McCoys.