Hey. It’s no picnic for me.
Why should I sugarcoat it for you?
We are on what feels like day 56, but really it’s been about 72 hours.
Today I decided to call his doctor’s office, so that I could once again be reassured that there was nothing they could do and that eventually he would either poop himself invisible or run out of ammo. When I realized the phone number was not programmed into my cell phone, I called a specific agency (who shall remain nameless and who may or may not be reached at 1-800-Goog411) that is supposed to specialize in locating this type of information.
“Welcome to ___________. Please say the name of the person or business you are trying to reach, along with the city and state.”
“Dr. Jennifer Rhodes, Tustin, California.”
(clicking and beeping sounds, while the computer masterfully retreives the information I so desperately seek)
“You said, Tom’s Toyota Dealership in Glendale, California. If this is correct, press 1 to continue. If this is not correct, say ‘Go Back.'”
(slight tension in voice) “Go. Back.”
“Please say the name of the person or business you are trying to reach, along with the city and state.”
(increased volume and careful pronounciation) “Dr. Jennifer. Rhodes. In. Tustin. California.”
(more beeps and clicks, while the computer works diligently on retreiving said information.)
“You said, Gvida Vardas in Vilnius, Republic of Lithuania. If this is correct, please press 1. If this is not correct, say ‘Go Back.'”
(Through gritted teeth and dangerously high blood pressure) “Gooooooooo. Baaaaaaaaaack.”
(a series of what are clearly sarcastic clicks and beeps, and, I swear, faint evil laughter)
“You said, Dr. Jennifer Rhodes, Tustin, California.”
Now I’ve got two pairs of pants to burn tonight.