Moving Target

So I went to get my blood drawn for the thyroid test. I get there and take a number. I already don’t like the setup; somehow having my name called makes it so much more personal. Anyway, after a 30-minute wait they usher me in to a room. Sit me in one of those adult high chairs for taking blood. You know the kind, high with tray on both sides and a panel that keeps you from jumping out while they stab you. Hint; when a nurse spends 10 minutes trying to find a vein, it is not a good sign of things to come. So the Stupid Nurse pokes me twice in my right arm. Every time she does it she starts moving the needle around, underneath my skin, trying to hit a, ‘moving target’. This hurts like hell. After what hurts for an eternity she gives up, please keep in mind she got like no blood from all this. She goes to the Dr. and complains about my small veins. She COMPLAINS! Like I can do anything about them! The Dr. comes in takes my other arm sticks a needle in draws a shipload of blood, all without saying a word, then says goodbye. Next time I am asking for the Dr. to take care of my tiny veins, no more moving target for me. So my right arm is becoming one big bruise, while my left hardly hurts.
When I got home I listened for a minute at the bedroom window, just in case there was a lot of screaming going on. My plan was simple; if I hear screaming I am driving away and having breakfast somewhere quiet. But no screaming was going on it was eerily quiet. I rushed inside and saw my handsome son standing up on a very tired daddy and trying to choke him with DH’s gold chain. Very funny! I think it was the happiest I have seen both of them in about a week. We all had a nice breakfast and then a walk by the beach. Now Baby V is sleeping (for like 5 more minutes) ad then we start with lunch. Hopefully DH gets back from his motorcycle ride (he call is exercise to keep his cholesterol down) in time to take Baby V on his evening walk and I can clean floors.

Speaking of evening walks, we have a boat show at out beach for the weekend. The parking is crazy and I think I wanted to kill a couple of the people directing traffic. They all tried to get me to park in various open spots when I tried to leave, it would have been funny if they didn’t feel inclined to jump in front of the car while waving. How do I explain to people that I do not want to see boats I just want to go home!

Now on to our neighbors: We think new people are moving in upstairs because that little lock box, the one the realtor take the key out of when showing apt.) Is gone. Either the place is rented, or the same guy/girl who took DH’s motorcycle cover and chain stole the box. The little theft alone will cost us another $200, and remember I am still on probation. DH thinks the thief was our neighbor downstairs she always want everything looking pretty and that cover was dirty and nasty. Why he would take the chain I don’t know, it looked entirely respectable, maybe to teach us a lesson. The reason we think it is she, she ‘noticed’ it missing and knew about the can hidden under it. Besides what thief would take an old torn $20 cover?
Love,
Me