Daily Archives: April 26, 2012
I have a relatively benign heart condition.
It’s benign as in it *probably* won’t kill me, but it will make miserable.
I’m currently miserable in a hospital bed. I should go home today, provided the rest of the tests look good.
I’ll post more when I get out.
And don’t worry, I will be fine.
*Update* I posted this yesterday, when it should have posted today-Friday-and I failed to mention what this condition is. It’s called PSVT. I’m still in the hospital, awaiting the stress test. Keep your fingers crossed!
After getting a shout out from my blog buddy, Mark, I read his post on the awesomeness of his customer service experience. Lucky stiff.
I also clicked a link in the post to a blogger named Jen, and then laughed to tears over her dining experience post and even better post on doomsday preparations.
I have a brother-in-law like the people she describes in the post. And, I’ll bet he has a checklist.
I don’t ask.
I don’t want to know.
That, however, does not stop him from sharing his various survival strategies with me and my husband.
And that leads to some pretty hilarious shit.
BIL: Yeah, in the back yard I have buried money in glass jars and bleach – for purifying water – and canned goods in these plastic bags that will last forever. I’ve got a compound bow and arrows, and knives, waterproof matches, and even a cookstove sealed in bags and buried in different spots around the back yard.
HUBBY: How do you remember where everything is?
BIL: I plant *certain* plants over the spot every year and have a graph I’ve drawn to show their exact location.
HUBBY: And where are the guns buried?
BIL: Guns? I don’t have any guns.
HUBBY: Yeah, and if this doomsday shit ever gets real, you won’t have anything else either.
BIL: Yes, I will. Because I am prepared.
HUBBY: Prepared? For what? To stop bullets with your arrows? Dude, yours will be the first castle to fall as soon as people realize that you have all this shit and you are, basically, unarmed.
BIL: My neighbors, they wouldn’t….
HUBBY: Bullshit they won’t. A bunch of starving people, maybe some sick or injured from fallout? Shit gets real in a hurry in those situations, and neighbor or not, you are one dead dude.
BIL: *makes the open-closed fishmouth thingy a time or two and then stares at hubby for a while*
HUBBY: *opens the cooler and pops the top on a cold one, grinning like the Cheshire cat* Beer?
And that, my friends, is why I adore that man.