Chex Mix Roasting in a Closed Oven, Phlebotomist Nipping at Your Vein...

...Val's squeaky wheel finally gets him some lovin'
But Val accrues no financial gain
Everybody knows Val's mom has been a bit laid up
News! Tomorrow she'll be sprung
Fill her fridge with slaw on which she'll sup
Give her a new old walker Hick brung

I had the day off work to go to the doctor and give up some blood. That took about ten minutes. Then the rest of the day was mine. Those 98 sick days aren't going to use themselves, you know.

The first stop after the blood-letting was Sonic. I haven't been there in forever, since the one conveniently on our way home closed down. The one in my mom's town has a former pupil working there, and I am not in a mood to deal with her, even after two-and-a-half years since our academic paths crossed. So I went to the one in Doctor Town, for a breakfast burrito and a cherry limeade to wash down my morning meds. Fasting is such a harsh taskmistress.

Because a day off for Val is really not a day off, I took T-Hoe to the repair shop where his good tire was fixed a couple weeks ago. I must say, they did a bang-up job. It hasn't leaked since. Nor before. So I asked if they had time to fix a tire while I waited, and the lady said yes, that he was just taking one off the rack. Fifty minutes and $12.50 later, T-Hoe was good to go. He had a screw in his leaky tire. It had been festering since July. The lady said it must have been really hard to get out, because it took the guy longer than usual to fix a tire. Too bad, so sad. Eat that hourly wage, good-tire-fixer. I hope they didn't steal my stem cap this time.

I stopped for some scratch-off tickets, but only won $5. That's not even enough to pay for my ticket purchases. Some five-dollar-daughter reward THAT was.

Back home, I whipped up a batch of Chex Mix. I only had six interruptions, each coming exactly at stirring time. That stuff bakes for two hours, you know. No more. No less. And it must be churned every 15 minutes. That means seven times I have to get up and stir it. Those interruptions couldn't have timed it better if they synchronized their watches.

One of the interruptions, though, was my sister the ex-mayor's wife, telling me that MOM IS BEING RELEASED FROM THE HOSPITAL TOMORROW! Uh huh. It's true. She has a doctor's appointment in the city, but she is being let go from the 24-hour therapy institution. We'll have to lay in a supply of slaw, that's for sure.

Hick said he's going to get Mom a walker at the auction. I said no he isn't. I don't want any Seinfeld Kramer-ex-girlfriend used-wheelchair incident. But Hick says the insurance will get Mom a real walker, and the auction one would be a spare to keep on another floor. Her house has four levels, you know. Besides, he argued, they had a walker at the auction Saturday for only $12.

I don't know. Things are moving pretty fast here in Backroads. Never a dull moment. I am contemplating writing an opera. My creativity knows no bounds when I take a day or two off my blood-thinner meds. Hold your applause.

It ain't over 'til I sing.