One hours peace

Today was my day off after a really brutal Memorial Weekend at the ER. We are talking every room full, 20-30 in the waiting room, people arriving with fingertips in baggies, elderly men with tractors rolling over on them... We are now understaffed in the radiology and lab departments because of the layoffs... doesn't really make things work like a well-oiled machine. 

So, today, after running, swimming and biking in the last 24 hours (you gotta get 'em in there where you can), I decided to go hog wild. It was momma's day to get a massage. I earned it, damn it!

It was a total spur-o'-the-moment kind of thing. I walked past a place with a huge "$40 one hour massage!" sign in the window. You know, I'll put up with anything resembling a massage for $40. As long as bad-touch isn't involved, it sounds like a great bargain. As I filled out the paperwork, with the heated bag of dried corn on my neck, I made the decision to turn off the cell phone. No point in having it on when I'm not going to answer it anyway.

The massage was, in a word, fabulous. This woman had hands of steel, and though it actually was a little painful at times, I feel like I can move my back in ways I haven't moved in months. 

No good deed will go unpunished.

The minute I turn my phone back on, it rings. As I start to talk to Omar, I can hear the phone buzzing with the 3 texts that are now raining down from the text purgatory they have been stuck in for the last hour. Leo has a fever. He has had a fever for about, uhm.... an hour. The daycare is apparently eagerly awaiting someone's arrival, and Omar can't go because the transformer outside the brewery has exploded and is on fire.

I am not making this up.

When I pick up little man, he is sitting in a pack-and-play jail so as to not infect the other kids. Half and hour later, the big three are picked up by my poor feverish mother-in-law who is hosting a birthday part for the boys' cousin despite looking like h-e-double-hockey-sticks. Apparently my father-in-law is looking even worse. The fridge repair man arrived to then spend 2 hours staring at the ice-maker while all my frozen foods thawed. 

I may never get a massage again...