Third Time's a Charm*

I spent the morning cleaning the closet and spraying it with a can of something that is supposed to kill whatever luis in the closet and may be feasting on my shirts. As far as we can tell, nothing has eaten OilMan's t-thirts, which live in the same closet, but maybe they are just so old and disreputable well loved that we didn't notice.

It was a dusty and thoroughly unpleasant job. The only good thing about it is that I have shelves full of tidy, folded clothes. Well, except for the ones that are still in the guest room, because I had to stop and take OilMan to the orthopedist before I was finished.

The doctor was very nice and very good. He told OilMan that he could give him novocaine in his finger and "reduce" it in the office, or, since he had noticed that John was squeamish, he could give him a general anesthetic in a surgery suite, and do it while he was unconscious. He made it clear that this would be a "big hassle", and pointed out that he probably had a better chance of success than either I or the family doctor had had. Even after three and a half days. He was right. It took less than ten minutes….

…plus another twenty minutes across the hall for an x-ray, and a half hour after that in another freezing room waiting for the doctor to come back and show the latest results, which appeared just about perfect to me.

The good thing about the medical building across town is that it has a good French restaurant in it, where we could have a late lunch and a beer for OilMan after his ordeal. We sat outside on the patio to warm up.

*And last, I promise. This was the only picture I took all day. If he falls down the stairs again, he's on his own!