I have to say that it has been a long time since so many men flocked to my bedroom.
Another good thing - this extremely noise, messy and invasive event is happening in August when most of my neighbours are away. I've dropped notes in their mailboxes, literally or on-line, to apologize. They are a fine, forgiving bunch.
More importantly, my brother called yesterday to say that Mum is back in Emerg. Her legs were swollen again. He's hoping they will put her on an anti-water-retention drug and she'll be home today. We don't know. I'm on call.
The baby boy is far away, in B.C. with his mother for a family wedding. I miss him very much, need to squeeze him for comfort at this stressful time, and he's not back for a week. My son just texted from the airport - he's on his way to the same wedding, only has 4 days off, the flight is oversold and there's no seat for him. Endless hammering overhead, my garden a pile of lumber and rubble.
It's a beautiful day.
There is some metaphor here, but I'm trying not to wonder what it is.
Just heard from my brother - Mum is back at Amica with a prescription for Lasix. Sam texting - he's in line, still no seat. There are 5 men in my bedroom and on my roof. It's 9.30 a.m. Please lord, I would like a little less excitement in my life. Think boring. Boring is good.
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