Hello Old Friend ER

Guess what just happened?? Well, I was typing my post about Alex, and Paul kept bugging me about needing the computer. I kept telling him just a minute. So he goes in the laundry room and starts messing around with that big weight machine we have in there. He was bugged because it was all messed up and he wanted to use it. So right as I was publishing my post, I hear a blood-curdling yell from the laundry room. Now that yell is usually nothing for me to be alarmed about, since he yells like that for slivers, stubbing his toe, etc. So I didn't react at all. Then he screams, "I JUST SMASHED MY THUMB AND IT'S REALLY BAD!!" or something like that, and I knew it really was serious. His thumb was flat and mushy and bleeding and GROSS.

So I flurry about in a panic (it's about 10:45 pm) and try to get my stuff together to take him to the emergency room. I tried to get Oliver ready to go (he was being a pill tonight and still awake), but I was taking too long and Paul was saying he would just drive himself. I was worried he would pass out or something on the way, so I insisted I drive and told Maddie to take care of Oliver and the twins. We went to the Timpanogos ER first, but the people in the waiting room said they had been there for 2 hours and there was no doctor. We talked to the nurse and she said that Paul definitely needed to be seen, but she told us to go to Orem Community ER because it would be a lot faster. So we went there. Paul was admitted and I went back home, because Maddie was having a hard time with Oliver and was upset. So now I'm here at home waiting for Paul to call me.

Hey - he just called! He said he didn't break the bone, and they gave him some shots and they're going to stitch it up. Oh yeah - I didn't write how he did it. He was trying to fix the machine, and unhooked the weight and it came crashing down on his thumb. Or something like that. Ouch.

So I feel bad that Paul got hurt and all, but the worst part of this was going out in public looking like I do right now. (Yes, it's all about me.) I'm wearing my gym clothes, which I was also gardening in - so they're all dirty and gross. My hair is so disgustingly greasy, and tonight I kept debating if I should wash it, but I wanted to work out in the morning, so I figured I'd just live with it until after my workout. (I know no man will understand that, but with my hair - if I wash it, I have to fix it, and it's a major undertaking and a HUGE pain in the butt - something to be avoided if at all possible.) So I had my greasy gross hair back in an unflattering ponytail, and I had tons of vaseline on my eyes. (I use that for eye moisturizer at night, and tonight it was especially thick and shiny.) Let's just say I looked GREAT. But I kept thinking - I won't see anyone I know, it's fine.

So who do I see the minute I walk in the ER? Our next-door-neighbor Kelli, who is darling and petite and was a cheerleader at Paul's highschool and just, yeah. You know what I mean. I'm always worried that she thinks we're white trash, what with our halfway-dug trampoline and weed/trash yard right next to her house. I've also been known to yell at my kids white-trashily without thinking about who can hear me, a time or two (or seven). So then tonight I come in looking like the white trash QUEEN. She works there. Just my luck. And to top it off, the first thing she asks is, "Where are your kids?" I say sheepishly, "Uh - Maddie's tending. I hope she's ok - heh heh." Score another point for white trash girl!

See, Paul? I didn't call you a dumbass or insult you once this whole post! Whew, that was hard. (J/K :) )

This is after stitches. Yucky!