Clog in your shitter.

This morning we were inadvertently double-booked. I’d made plans for True Blue and her hubby to come over for coffee in the morning not knowing that the ILs and my own hubby had arranged for his aunt, uncle and cousin to come by at the same time. And we have a small house.

But the morning cooperated and we were all able to gather outside and catch up even though it was a little chaotic. True Blue was all zen and fresh from yoga though so it was a bit of a clash of the mindsets.

We muddled through and then at the end of the visit, the toilet overflowed. Pee all over the bathroom floor. As a parting gift. I ran for the plunger, dodging the house guests scattered hither and yon. Raced back and the hubby grabbed it as he tried to reach the valve to shut it off. “Grab the rug!” I yelled in the middle of the melee. The MIL yelled at the FIL, “Plunge the toilet!” He yelled back, “I’m not plunging the toilet! YOU plunge it!” And as she shot daggers at him with her eyes, the hubby plunged and fixed it. Someone yelled, “You shouldn’t be doing that!” But, well.

Then the guests all ran to their cars, fearing for their lives at this point.

I raced downstairs to grab the junk towels that we use for such emergencies and the FIL grabbed paper towels. I got back just in time to try to figure out how the hell I was going to pick up those soggy paper balls without touching pee. Decided to throw them and the soaked towel away. Moved everything out of the bathroom and spent the next however long scrubbing the floor on my hands and knees. The hubby had to go lie down and the MIL had to go rip the FIL a new asshole.

I then went on a binge of cleaning that lasted almost all day. Vacuuming, wiping down the counters (and promptly cutting my finger on the new knives we got the hubby as I skimmed past it), cleaning the litter box, doing more laundry, dumping out dead flowers, wiping up something that was spilled all over the floor, cleaning out the fridge. I was sweating and dripping all over the place. But I got er dun.

Then I decided it was high time to return some dishes to some kind do-gooders that have been feeding us. So we sent the now-not-speaking-to-each-other ILs to the Brent pool with the girlies while we made the dish delivery rounds. Then hit Larkburger for good measure.

By the time we made it to the pool ourselves, it was storming up a real Colorado doozie, so we were forced to sit under the deck and drink beer until it blew over.

We missed our dinner delivery and felt all guilty for even having dinner delivered since we were at the pool drinking beer. Our friends who were bringing it were afraid the bears would get it. (Valid point.) It’s such a weird dichotomy. Trying to be normal when you have cancer. All your energy is going toward getting well and just getting by. And little details like planning a meal and going to the store to buy the ingredients just never happen. But yet you want to just go to Larkburger and run errands like you always have. I guess we just haven’t figured out this cancer thing yet.

For the last few days I’ve just dropped off the grid. The hubby and I ran errands and went on a lunch date. The ILs took the girls to the pool so we could nap and have some down time. I worked and tried in vain to catch up a bit, though my brain is so muddled from not enough sleep and too much worry and/or wine that I keep missing details and screwing more up than I fix. We made dinner one night and sat outside and told stories and laughed. I drug Purse Girl to Christy Sports, McGuckin’s and Pier One to get some more stuff for the outside decor. Then drug her back to Target and Costco.

I started to feel like my old self almost. I even went to a farm dinner and had an amazing meal in the middle of a field at Cure Farm. The most favorite restaurant in the universe was on hand to make sure said dinner was nothing short of phenomenal. It was just weird going without the hubby. Even though he is so unbelievably better, the fact that he decided against going to a dinner cheffed up by Hugo (in a field inside a huge yellow school bus)...well it just reminds me that he’s still got the effin cancer. (As if I could forget.)

This week, the ILs leave and the mom comes. All within 24 hours or so. The girlies are both at camp all day this week and next, we meet with the surgeon for follow up and the hubby is hoping to get released back to work by Thursday. Working from home comes in handy when you’re missing a colon piece almost the size of a standard ruler.

I am hoping for some of my brain cells to return so I can complete a simple task or two. And I can’t wait to put my mom to work on one of the hundred or so projects we may never get to now that we have joined the cancer hell train.

I love watching my little pooper return to his former self with each day that passes. Though the post-cancer-surgery diet is meaning there is much less of him. Luckily I’m eating enough for both of us.

Let’s see what happens this week. I’m voting for boring and not blog-worthy.

TODAY’S THEME SONG: Buttmachine. That 1 Guy. Just 'cause it's cracked doesn't mean that it's broke. Just 'cause it's a butt doesn't mean it's a joke.