When It Rains, It Pours. In the Kitchen.

Today was Dentist Day, the dreaded twice-a-year appointment that I make because I know I should but that I'd really rather find any reason in the entire world not to. Eddie did get up an hour early, knowing that what I really needed was an extra hour of running around the house screaming before we left. Hmm, Weather Guy said that it might rain today. Probably shouldn't be out driving, could be dangerous. But I went, because deep down I live in fear of my teeth falling out like they do in my dreams. The hygienist was a new one, for me at least. I used to warn new guys that I am not a good patient, but I've been working on my breathing and calming myself, so I thought I'd be okay. Generally I was. Yes, I tend to jump and make that scared hissing noise if something catches me off guard and if I open my eyes, they are rolled all the way back, so I worry that I look like a shark, wide open mouth, only whites of my eyes showing. Alas and alack, there is indeed a small cavity. Tiny, really. It looks like a half a poppy seed got stuck to my tooth. My nice hygienist couldn't even get his evil metal hook stuck in it. But it's a cavity nonetheless and the dentist said "Oh that's so tiny. Don't worry, we'll just slip little white filling in there." That sounds so innocuous, doesn't it? So I asked him "Uh, but filling, does that mean it will include drilling and screaming and me running down the hall?" The dentist looked only mildly surprised "Well, drilling at least." He prescribed me a nice large dose of Halcion to take before I come back. I mean immediately before, not continuously, though that would have been fine with me. Then I come home. Eddie runs off into the kitchen while I am going through the mail and I hear him stomping and giggling. Odd, I think, since he usually only stomps to music. I head toward the kitchen and realize it's not STOMP STOMP STOMP. It's SPLASH SPLASH SPLASH. So that's not good. I run in and find a nice large puddle from the stove to the end of the kitchen, with my son dancing happily in the middle of it. Then he sits down, you know, because it's not enough to just get your feet wet. My father-in-law was kind enough to come over and figure out how to shut off the water to just the fridge, and I'm searching for the service agreement, which the Husband has filed in his magical way. That means he'll know exactly where it is and roll his eyes at me like I'm insane. "It's under W because the fridge is white, duh" or something. Oh, did I mention he's been out of town two days? At least he comes back tonight. So I'm not cleaning or folding laundry or doing anything. I'm almost afraid to move. Today is out to get me, and it's only 3:47. See you tomorrow, if I make it . . .