Tuesday, August 1, 2017

      Yesterday, we awoke to torrential rains. I had planned to go to the Fitness Center to begin working with a new trainer. (I had done no workouts all week-end, as I figured she would run me ragged Monday morning.) Mr. Wonderful reminded me that he had an appointment with the eye doctor, and they would be dilating his eyes. “Oh, great!” I said. “And how are you going to drive in this mess when you will be half blind?” No response. We both knew what was next. Yup. I canceled my appointment and waddled into the doctor’s office with him. He was very appreciative, but that didn’t make up for the fact that the doctor’s office was 4 below zero. Little children who were there with their mommies were sobbing from the chill. 

      I decided after an hour, I couldn’t take it anymore, and I ventured into the downpour and spent the rest of the second hour frizzing and defrosting in the car. The good news was that I was smart enough to bring my book to read and my speech to write. As long as I’m productive, I don’t throw tantrums.

      We didn’t know of any other breakfast spot except Bob Evans down the street where they check your Medicaid card to get in. This place is also running about 4-5 below zero too. Now Mr. Wonderful is feeling very guilty that he has not only taken me away from my daily workout; he has dragged me into the frigid as well. Most of the people who frequent this place have about four extra layers of protection from the cold, so they don’t notice it. I couldn’t find anything under 1100 calories on the menu, so I gave in to the 250 cal. mac & cheese the size of a thimble. I also blew it on a piece of Brioche toast with butter that had to have weighed at least a pound. Oh, my. Where is that trainer when I need her? She probably isn’t very impressed that I canceled an hour before our appointment, but maybe her grandpa needed cataract surgery too. Even though it was my turn to pay, Mr.Wonderful came through and paid the bill. 

     After picking up my library book (checking it out on the little machine all by myself-yay!), we headed to the grocery store. Tradition has it that I shop while he naps in the car. I am one of the very few women on the planet that loves to grocery shop. So I am merrily shopping away when I look down just before checkout and realize that the credit card I was holding in my hand is missing. Oh, great. Now normally, I would panic imagining someone finding it and charging a month’s groceries before I can get to the 800 number. I smiled at the cashier and said, “I have lost my credit card. I’ll be right back.” I alerted every worker in the store to look out for it as I scoured every aisle and shelf I had passed. No card. I called and woke up Mr. Wonderful with the news. He was not happy. He shook himself awake, and brought me my debit card, then returned to pull the car up. As I went back to check out, there was my very close friend, Beth. I told her what happened, and I said, “You know what, years ago, I would have been in panic mode, but in the big picture, it’s just a phone call.” She gave me that “Yup, I get it” look, and we laughed and hugged. I got in the car, called the number, and in seconds, the problem was solved. Account closed, new card on the way—lesson learned. 

      About an hour later, the store called to say they found the card in the peach display. Wtf.


      A couple hours after that, I called my very close friend in North Carolina. I didn’t tell her what happened, as she was asking me what I would do if my doctor, like hers, had just told me I had less than six months to live.