Pragmatic Compendium

$1,100.17

and three days.

In case you missed it, we had a little problem with our truck. To be a little more specific, here’s the voice mail message from our mechanic:

Hello Mr. and Mrs. Mills, this is HardWorkingMechanic. I just got off the phone with Mr. Mills, and told him that I had found a steering column for him in California, which I had, but by the time I called, it was sold. (pause) There are no others in the country that I know of. (pause) There are no others that I have been able to find at this time. (pause) I don’t really know what to say at this time. But I uh, cannot find a steering column for this vehicle and unless a miracle happens, we cannot fix this vehicle at this time. (long pause) So, call us back at . . .

FirstHusband was on travel, so I called back. HardWorkingMechanic went through even more details. It turns out there’s a nationwide network of junkyards. The first steering column he found was in Jacksonville, Florida, but when he called, it had sold 4 hours earlier. The second column, the one he was referring to in the voice mail, sold right out from under him. The next day, a new resource led him to a third column, located in Clearwater, Florida, and he jumped on it! Unfortunately, when they went to pull it from the vehicle (in a junkyard), they discovered it had been stolen.

So I asked, “Is there any other column that could be fitted or modified?” (the optimism stemming from incredulous disbelief at this situation)

Maybe. There were more than a few configurations of this steering column. Ours had no airbag, it had tilt and it had cruise control. Finding a steering column with an airbag was easy. Unfortunately, the airbag wouldn’t fit inside the steering column casing on our truck, so that was out. HardWorking Mechanic thought he might be able to find a non-airbag steering column without tilt or cruise control.

no cruise control? For me? I am 5 feet 4 inches tall and this is a Ford F250. My feet don’t touch the floor when I sit on the couch in my living room. So, no cruise control would be . . . inconvenient when I drive the truck. For FirstHusband? It’s about comfort and gas mileage. He gets better gas mileage when he uses the cruise control.

tilt? I don’t need no stinking tilt.

So, the searching begins again. I find three rebuilt steering columns (with no tilt) on ebay with a “Buy it Now” of $250. HardWorkingMechanic reminds me that if HE finds one and it doesn’t work, he can send it back. ebay? Not so much. We agree that he should exhaust his sources before we buy one of the ebay steering columns.

Wednesday passes. Thursday. At 4:30 the phone rings:

I say, “How ya doing?

HardWorkingMechanic: pretty good.

Me: “How are we doing?”

HardWorkingMechanic: “Do you want your truck back? It’s ready.”

Me: “NO WAY!”

HardWorkingMechanic: “Yep. We got a steering column with an airbag and used the parts from it to rebuild yours. It doesn’t have tilt, but it does have cruise.”

So, we don’t have to replace the truck. We don’t have to sell our boat to buy another vehicle and take on a payment. We picked up the truck this morning.

Not that we need it this weekend, mind you, because we are going boating. The truck’s last trip before “steering column death” was to take the boat to dry storage in the marina at Cape Canaveral. We call, they put it in the water for us by the time we get there, and we spend the day on the Banana River, getting to know our new boat.

Thanks to everyone who asked their husbands about this! Thanks for the good wishes, the sympathy and the prayers.

it is what it is and “it” isn’t so bad.

okay. We WAITED to buy a boat until we could pay for it, so we didn’t have to go into debt. We bought a boat on Saturday. We really like the boat.

On Monday, FirstHusband hooked up the trailer lights, got the boat registered and insured and towed it over to the coast for dry storage. (Which is VERY cool! We call and say, “Hey, yo! We want to take our boat out today!” and they put it in the water for us by the time we get there! Woo Hoo! We also save on gas because instead of driving a Ford F250 with a 22 foot boat behind it, we get to drive a mini-van instead!) So, it’s all good.

FirstHusband drives back from the coast with an empty boat trailer, parks in front of our house and . . . the truck won’t come out of gear. It’s stuck in “Park” and it will NOT move. We had it towed this morning (thank you dear insurance company, for towing reimbursement).

Long story short? Anybody got a USED steering column for a 1996 Ford F250? One withOUT airbags? But preferably WITH tilt and cruise control? Seems we have a “special” steering column. A steering column we may not even be able to get NEW even if we wanted to pay for one. Because our truck is so very old.

arg.

and “arg” again.

But. I’m looking at the bright side. We get to go out in the boat on Saturday because we don’t have to tow it over to the coast. It’s already there. And it will already be in the water. And I’m taking a fiction book.

gotta go. off to ebay motors, parts and accessories.

That would be my temperature for the previous three days. It hit on Friday night along with chills that didn’t stop. I slept in a tshirt, sweatshirt, long pants and with 4 blankets. Chills all night and the fever never broke. FirstHusband was my knight in shining armor (if knights do laundry, work on the taxes, finish multiple outstanding home repairs and take complete charge of the kids all weekend).

I didn’t get out of bed Saturday until I dragged myself to a Doc in the Box at 4:30 p.m. After waiting 2 hours while the ibuprofen wore off and my temperature rose again, the doc came into the examining room and greeted me with “so we have a sick little girl here.

No verbal response (Do not mess with me).

Then the questions:

“When did this start?”

“Friday a week ago I came down with what I thought was just a head cold, hardly any fever, stuffy nose, sinus pressure. By Thursday I was feeling much better. I even worked out with my personal trainer Friday morning and I felt fine. Last night, I got much worse, fever of 103, chills, pretty bad chest congestion, horrible sinus pressure . . . and then the helicopter landed on the roof and the aliens ran away with all my tissues . . . (What?  Ok, I didn’t say the last part, but I could have.  He wasn’t listening.)”

(there were more questions with lack of eye contact or acknowledgment of answers, but I would just get irritated reliving them, so let’s just skip it.)

First, the doc looks in my ears.  (Did I say ANYTHING about my ears?  No.  No I did not.)

Then he looked at my throat.   (Did I say my throat hurt?  No.  No I did not.)

Then he holds the stethoscope on my back, on top of my double layer of tshirt and fleece pullover while I breathe once, twi . . . (choking coughs) and doc says, “sounds clear.” (what? one breath? how could you even hear over all the coughing?)

He doesn’t look in my nose.  Doesn’t touch my neck to see if anything is swollen.  Nothing.

His diagnosis? “A little cold.”

So it’s viral? (a little cold? a little cold? Buddy, I’ve had a little cold before and I can stand up with a “little” cold.  I can sit up with a “little” cold.  I don’t have to sleep with my upper body elevated when I have a “little” cold . . . arrg!  let’s just skip it.)

“Probably viral, but just in case, I’ll write you a prescription for a Z-pak. (and do I take it just in case it is bacterial? or just in case I get worse?) You do have a low-grade fever, so just take ibuprofen for that. (low grade fever? 103?  what is a high grade fever?) Get plenty of rest and drink lots of fluids (Carole Brady could have told me that.)

Since I have no confidence the Doc in the Box and since I’ve had pneumonia 4 times in my adult life, I filled the prescription to fight off any secondary infections that this “possible” viral infection is making me vulnerable to. I already have an appointment with my doctor on the last day of the Z-pak to follow up.

I came home from the Doc in the Box at 7:00 p.m. Saturday and went in the dry sauna for 20 minutes. (I have one in my garage - tell you about it later.) After completely clearing my sinuses, sweating out lots of toxins and hopefully boiling some nasty little germs, I went back to bed and did not get out until Sunday night. A few hours later, I forced myself to go back to bed with an Ambien so I could expedite more internal germ fighting.

Unfortunately, I really had to work Monday (today) and need to tomorrow as well. I loaded up on Sudafed (the real stuff) and ibuprofen and I actually felt pretty good. Tired, but not bad. No fever while the ibuprofen lasted and more than 24 hours since my first antibiotic.  Although, I was a total germaphobe today. I used an entire bottle of hand sanitizer on my self and the keyboard I touched, I wouldn’t shake anyone’s hand, I wouldn’t touch anything or sit near anyone and told everyone I encountered to wash their hands.  (To which nearly EVERYONE I encountered replied, “It’s okay, I’ve already had it.“)

Tonight, I let the ibuprofen wear off and my fever is only 100.2. Now that seems low grade.

So is this the flu everyone is talking about? I thought the flu included nausea and body aches with a little ralphing. I don’t have nausea or body aches and although I didn’t eat anything all weekend, I still don’t think I would have parted with it later. I’ve just got cold/bronchitis/sinus infection symptoms - but some kick (my) butt symptoms. And when I do get better, will I be immune to this nasty little flu - until it morphs itself again?

What a pain. How irritating. I’m going to bed. After I pray my kids don’t get this. I’ve been giving them “air” hugs since Friday.

Jenn, over at Mommy Needs Coffee and Mommy Bloggers, has motivated me to tell the truth. I do not have it all together. When I don’t get my solitude (or any help), I reach my breaking point. So, in the spirit of honesty and solidarity, here are the events which led to my literal “breaking” point last week.

But first, a trivia question: What’s the difference between dropping your phone and heaving it forcefully to the floor? See the answer at the bottom of this post.

Back to the (humiliating) story.

FirstHusband left town on Sunday morning at 9:00 a.m. and I drove him to the airport. (He returned Friday evening and we picked him up at the airport just in time for rush hour.)

I am taking iron pills because my blood work shows my iron stores are “depleted.” (“Iron stores?” I never shopped at an iron store.)

Sunday, Monday, and Tuesday, alone with the kids. The kids do their chores, pack their own lunches, do their homework, pack their own backpacks, lay out their own clothes, bathe and dress themselves, but not without . . . encouragement. (They might call it nagging.) Through it all, I’m patient. Pleasant, even. When they want to stay up late on Tuesday night to watch American Idol “because EVERYONE will be talking about it tomorrow and I won’t know what they’re talking about,” I LET them stay up! (Have you ever heard the phrase, “no good deed goes unpunished?”)

So, Wednesday morning comes around and I have comatose children. PinkGirl didn’t even move. No groan. No turning over. Just dead weight. FavoriteSon is too heavy to drag downstairs and, while still in a coma, he pitifully BEGGED me to let him skip P.E. The fact is, I was wiped out too. When FirstHusband travels, I don’t sleep so well.

So, I did the UNthinkable. I let the kids sleep in an extra hour. I let my son miss 1st period P.E. and my 1st grade daughter be an hour late for school. I can’t remember, but I think my husband will learn about this as he reads this blog post. (Remember the family rule, hon. No helping. No complaining.)

Anyway. I drop the kids off a little before 9:00 a.m., go back home to shower, eat breakfast and work a little before I go BACK to school to have lunch with PinkGirl at 11:15 because the new girl is giving her a hard time. Get back to the house around noon. A little more work (and probably a little blogging, I don’t’ remember) and then it’s BACK to school to pick up the kids. I get PinkGirl and two friends at 2:40 p.m. and then wait for FavoriteSon to get out at 3:10 p.m. Everyone is hungry, so it’s off to McDonalds. I’m keeping PinkGirl’s friends for the afternoon and drop FavoriteSon off at the house to do homework while I take the girls to a park. While they play, I sit on a park bench, reading a book and taking notes for a seminar I have to deliver next week. Every 30 or 45 minutes I call home to ask FavoriteSon how he is doing on his homework. I’m patient. Pleasant, even.

After nearly two hours, the girls get bored with the park and want to go to our house to play for a while before I take them home. No problem. No big deal. Sure. We go home. FavoriteSon has finished his homework. The girls play upstairs while I respond to a client email request. I was supposed to take the girls home around 6:00 p.m., but it’s 6:10 and they just put Chicken Little in the DVD player. I let them watch Chicken Little sing “We are the Champions” before we go. I’m patient. Pleasant, even.

I tell FavoriteSon I’m taking the girls home and he can play video games until I get back. When we arrive at the friend’s house, I let PinkGirl walk them to the door and then, I even let her go inside for a few minutes. I’m patient. Pleasant, even.

When we get back to our house, it’s 7:34 p.m. So far that day, I’d been in a pretty good mood. I was feeling pretty good about all the nice things I’d done for my kids. I mean really. You read the post. I was great, if I do say so myself. Cool mom. Nice mom. Pushover mom.

So how do I know it was 7:34 p.m. when I got home? Because, in our house, we have a family rule: All electronics off at 7:30 on school nights. (American Idol was a test - which they failed.) So I say, “okay, guys, it’s 7:34.”

I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught. The screaming. The stomping. The sarcasm. The insults.

THIS is what I get from them after saying “YES” to them over, and over, and OVER all day?

I wasn’t patient. Or pleasant, even.

I had an armful of stuff from the car (and not all of it MY stuff either). Picture it. Ever seen a little kid stomp their foot on the ground and thrust curled up fists down at their sides? That’s what I did. But remember. I was holding stuff. And my Treo.

Amazingly, what I actually said next was, “Well, that’s got to be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.” followed by, “PinkGirl, go to your room right now.”

Then I logged into ebay and sniped a Treo.

So what’s the answer to the trivia question? That would be $93, plus $15 shipping (If you have an ebay account and know how to use it). See, when you just drop your phone, it doesn’t always break. But when you throw it at the floor really hard, you have to buy a new one.

Yo, Jenn. Mommy didn’t have coffee Wednesday night. She had cabernet sauvignon. With dark chocolate.

Anemia? What? Are you sure? Iron supplement for two months? TWO months?

I don’t wanna. (in a big baby whining voice.)

I’m just going to sit down for a minute.

I’m wiped out. I’m going to bed. (at 9:00 p.m. on Friday night)

Wait, what’s that on my leg? And another one on my arm? How did I get BRUISES?

ohhhh.

I took my first iron pill yesterday. Why don’t I feel better yet?

How long is this going to take? I need to finish painting the bedroom and the lawn needs mowed.

DO NOT TAKE (wow, all caps even) within one hour before or two hours after antacids, eggs, whole grain breads or cereal, milk, milk products, coffee or tea.

COFFEE? Seriously. COFFEE?

AND I can’t take the iron within two hours of taking Nexium!

When am I supposed to take this stupid thing then? (again with the big baby whining voice.)

Stupid Nexium probably caused this.

Stupid fibroids probably caused this.

Stupid weight training probably caused this.

Well, this is . . . a pain, annoying, inconvenient, ridiculous . . . stupid.

I don’t WANT to play anemia. This game is stupid.

I’m going over to read Elle’s post again.

And I’m going to paint the bedroom. It’s just going to take a little longer to finish, that’s all. Hey, FavoriteSon! Mow the grass please!

Thank you God, that blogging doesn’t require physical exertion.