Today was the day I was going to tidy my house and to teach myself social media, to Digg and Stumble my way into the blogosphere and wave at my tech savvy pals via Google.
This was not to be.
First, I decided that I’d really better take Frankie to the vet. His eye has been bothering him ever since I took him to the groomer to gussy him up for our trip to the Ritz Carlton, Dove Mountain. I kept wavering because of, well, money, and because he seemed to be improving. And then not improving.
Turns out he has a corneal ulcer. The vet thinks it might be superficial enough to clear up with antibacterial drops, to be administered every two hours.
Then again, because of his diabetes, he might not respond as well as he should. In which case he’ll need surgery.
Fiddle dee dee, I’m not going to think about that now…
The vet also said the ulcer was square rather than round, and that this was weird. I guess it’s better than when she called Frankie weird because he wouldn’t pee for the vet techs. Still, it’s a bit disturbing to be told your dog — or his corneal ulcer — is peculiar. On top, of course, of being told that your dog has a corneal ulcer in the first place.
When I came home from the vet, Chris the repair guy was there. Chris was going to fix the hole in the wall above the sink that the plumbers made and left gaping. I had told Chris when I phoned him that I needed the hole drywalled because the plumbers who had left the hole said, “Sorry, we don’t do drywall.”
It turns out that the hole needed to be plastered, which Chris doesn’t know how to do. If only the plumbers had said, “Sorry, we don’t do plastering,” Chris could have saved himself a trip. And I might have found a repair guy who does plastering.
Did I mention that the hole in my wall seems to be emitting toxic fumes, which Chris suggested I stifle with plastic bags?
So… I have a dog who needs to get eye drops every two hours and a hole in my wall that can’t be fixed, at least not today, and that is stuffed with plastic bags that I’m semi-convinced will combust from the toxic fumes.
Damned if I’m going to tidy a house that has a toxic hole in the wall — that just goes against every aesthetic principle — or try to do something that is bound to make me feel obtuse. I’ve got some cold beer in the fridge, and maybe there’s something good on cable…