LIFE ON THE INSIDE
You Know What Burns My Ass?
The payoff to that joke, “You know what burns my ass?” is “A flame, about this high.”
This morning the payoff is, “Mr. Lucky.”
First thing this morning, as soon as I’ve had half a cup of coffee and can sort of think straight, I call the ENT to see if they can take him sooner than 12:30. Shockingly, to me anyway, they answer the phone (it’s like 7:15 a.m.) and put me on a call list. Even more shocking, they call back pronto and say they can take him at 8:30. 8:30! This is good. He needs to be checked. Decisions need to be made. Oh happy day!!
Quickly, or as quickly as a 62 year-old who’s been up half the night with her other son whose back decided to flare up at 3 a.m. can move, I dash into his room to deliver the news.
“They can see you in half an hour!” I say joyfully but whisperingly as he is, after all, still asleep. “You need to wake up, now, my love.”
Am I greeted with, “Thanks, mom.”? Am I greeted with even an, “Ok.”? Oh no. No to the Hell no.
I’m greeted with “What??? Call back!!! Say we’ll be there at 12:30!!! Can’t you see I’m sleeping???”
Can’t you see I’m ready and willing to beat you to within an inch of your life, you ungrateful brat?
