Jiggity jigg. On Wednesday morning the girls and I hared off to San Jose to pick up my Lovely Aunt, thence to go to Santa Cruz for a couple of days at the house a friend was loaning us. It was delightful. Meanwhile, Spouse had the week from hell, and incipient bronchitis, so that every time I called home I got this prickling of doom--I must pause to explain that about 14 years ago, when Sarcase Girl was Sarcasm Toddler and Emphatic Girl was not yet Thot Of, Spouse got bronchitis one summer which developed into asthma (you can, in fact, become allergic to the organism that caused the bronchitis) and spent a week in the ICU. Since then we take Spouse's chest very seriously--because he had that shallow-breathing husky quality to his voice.
But Thursday, in a moment of excellent sense, he called his doctor and got drugs prescribed, and is now feeling considerably better. And we are home again, in our slightly disheveled house (the straightening up gene, never dominant in Spouse, goes right out the window when he's ill) with mounds of laundry to do, and an entire afternoon empty of plan or obligation, stretching before us. Sigh.