Unless It's Too Late

Every household has a list of banned words.  They may be generic swears or something more creative.  Growing up we were not allowed to use the term "fart", it was a "pooftah".  But I digress.  In my household the dirtiest phrase is "Unless it's too late".  You can think it, you can procrastinate, but please don't speak those words out loud.

Exactly 520 weeks ago tomorrow I looked at the clock. 4:45p.m.  She had just gone into the biopsy, the florist was closing and delivery to the house the next day would be a LOT cheaper.  I told Burt, "I'll do it tomorrow....... If it's not too late".  I did pause, for a long time.  I don't know why.  Probably because I knew I was really blowing it off for my own plans.

I was going to the family bar, with all the women to decorate for Christmas.  I wanted out. A two year old, an infant, and teenager living with me, three deaths and a coma since spring, and I had just turned 21.  Yup, that's how I was spending my evening. 
And it was great.  Festive tunes, funny girls and every dirty sounding shot in existence. I was the only one who didn't instantly know what had happened when Burt walked in with the baby. 

An hour later, parking at the hospital, I still didn't have a clue.  My aunt pulled up next to me, looking solemn.  We walked in together, her laughing at me, somewhat holding me up.  There's my dad.  "So we're coma-ing again, huh?"

Yeah, not so much.  I don't think he spoke, just handed me a piece of paper (a phone tree from work, he was worried about her students having a teacher the next day) and gestured toward Arney in a ball on the floor in a corner.  Suddenly stone cold sober, I fell into my comfort zone of chaos management. 

Over the next two days I didn't stop.  I can't say I did my best work; I called people at 2a.m., I tried to punch a family member at the funeral home (she's getting her own post), I let my kid wear a chicken costume to the funeral dinner.

I had a clever ending, but I lost it.  Intellectually I know that me speaking the phrase "unless it's too late" didn't supernaturally stop her heart from beating, but most days I believe if I'd sent the flowers things would be different.

Now, off to hang with some students to honor the teacher.

The Benefit of the Doubt

I'm not really sure where to start.  I guess the best way to learn the Slomanic language is through immersion.  Yes, it's mostly English, but give me the benefit of the doubt until you learn the dialect please. 

Seriously? I expect people who don't even know me to give me the benefit of the doubt?  Burt knows me better than anyone and I can't even get the benefit of the doubt from him.  Infuriating.  I will be the first to admit that I do crazy things that polite society may find questionable but I always have a good reason.  Like the time I brought home a drunk guy and put him on the couch.  He had been staggering down the middle of a four lane highway and I needed him to show up to work the next day.  What was I supposed to do?

And then about a week ago, Burt was trying to bring in the groceries.  I told him he had to leave a specific bag behind because I was trying to deliver it tosomepeopleI'mprettysurewerehomelessthatIsawinaparkinglot. (Speak quickly and unclearly to avoid the, "HUH?" and inevitable explanation.) But he had already had his coffee and caught every word.  Shockingly, Burt said, "I get it.  I didn't used to.  And then I was talking to that guy (a lovely older gentleman that has lost two wives and seems to be lonely) and something kept telling me to have him over.  I don't know why, but we're going to."

Number 1  Burt doesn't talk to people.  He has very little interest in having friends.  They're nice and all but he just doesn't have the time or outgoing personality.
Number 2  He made the jump from me carrying groceries on a hunch to him having been approached for a reason, even if he didn't understand the reason.

So, now that I get the benefit of the doubt, I have to give it back.  I will have that lovely gentleman over for dinner even if I'm a little creeped out.  But the day I find a drunk woman on my couch, somebody better remind me about all of this.