"Tired, ornery, and cranky." That is what I said when you asked how I was doing. I’d worked nearly fourteen hours trying to make the monthly dashboard perfect so I could take next day off and have a three day weekend in Bassett. Not that that was going to be relaxing. I was trying to be nice and offered to help Dad weed the garden and the flower beds so he could figure out why the hot tub wasn’t working anymore.
The Motrin, I took a half an hour ago, hadn’t kicked in. And I was tired of people. I must have been on the clueless frequency, because I sure attracted a lot of stupidity wrapped up in well meaning people today. Someone asked about you and proceeded to quote dire mortality statistics and wanted to know if you were in the sun all the time growing up. I didn’t think he would ever shut up about how deadly the sun could be. Someone else told me about the sister of a friend who has been in complete remission from Stage III for seven years. I don’t know who I hated more – doom and gloom or miracle survivor. To make matters worse, I was really trying to get home by six and two people who never bother me decided to darken my doorway and get all chatty. I willed them to leave, but it didn’t work. I pretended to listen but my thoughts bounced between how to show the metrics on the dashboard to tell a more complete story and whether or not you had your posse lined up for treatment next week.
“Ask Turkeyman if he wants anything from Chilis.” Dad said as we turned into the parking lot around 10:30. You ate dinner around 8 at Olive Garden with Katie so you weren't hungry. Dad asked me if I wanted something. I lied and said "no" because you know I never eat this late at night for fear of getting fat. As soon as Dad got out, I closed the AC on my side while you talked about possibilities. You were really excited to make new friends at Wegmans and were actually letting people in. You were even more excited they were Foodies like you. You planned to share your find – Amphoras -- the all night diner, when you got back to work after this next round of treatment. Either I caught your excitement or the Motrin kicked in, because my headache disappeared by the time you hung up.
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