These things happened (in order) on Wednesday:
- Went to look at fab apartment.
- Fell in love with fab apartment.
- Called rental agency to make final arrangements.
- Was informed that, contrary to popular belief, our dogs could not live there.
- We've been looking for 6 weeks, only to have this happen over and over.
- Dave, still in hospital, near tears because he's SO tire of being there. And it hurts.
- Called mom and dad to cry about apartment.
- When I was done crying, Dad told me that paw-paw has colon cancer.
- Paw-paw's 88, Grandma's not-all-there, the prognosis can't be too great.
- I didn't get much sleep and so...
I bawl like a big baby-- that ugly cry with the mouth open and the spit running down my face and the almost-wail. Yup, right there in the hospital. However:
- We have a last option for an apartment showing this Monday. After that, the grand Rosenberg visit happens and we'll have no time to look, at which point we're moving out.
- Dave's out of the hospital.
- Paw-Paw is "amazingly strong for his age" and came out of surgery well.
Sometimes it amazes me what odd combinations of stuff send me into meltdown. Just some FYI, case you're curious about my crying habits of late.
Miss you... hold me...