My preferred method of being awakened: slowly, gently, by a nekkid woman (preferably Karen). Didn't happen this evening. It was, "Doug! Doug! Get up! There's Water all over the place!" Needless to say, I got up and went into the bathroom, where there was a stream of water erupting from the toilet supply line. I braved the stream and turned the valve off. I stood there dripping, listening to the water falling gently from every surface in the bathroom. Listening to it drip into the laundry room below.

Basement/laundry room inspection: Wet. 43 articles of clothing, hanging on the rack: dripping. Stained by water that has soaked through the rug and floorboards.

So I did what every other man in my position would do: I went back to bed. Didn't work, though. Couldn't get back to sleep. Full knowledge that I needed another three hours of sleep, and that I had the opportunity to get two. So, here I am. Tomorrow after work I will stop and pick up another supply line (it'll be a copper one this time, no more plastic for me, thanks...) and put it in.

Life sucks, especially when it comes to plumbing.

In the middle of the night...

Busy, busy night. Run, Doug, run. Once again, nothing major, thankfully. Just lotsa routine stuff.

More bad news. The Ford van is down for the count again. Seems that there was more wrong with it than just needing antifreeze... like a bad radiator or (hopefully) just a bad hose or connection. It's going to see the 'doctor' tomorrow. Karen was going to drive to Wichita in the morning, but that will have to wait. We still don't have the Saab back yet, either.

Interesting, the people that I get to meet in the smoking area. We only have one smoking area, so all of the patients family members who smoke wind up out there eventually. I was there by myself when a thirty-some year old girl came out. I said "hi" and was ignored... if that's the word for it. She sat down and lit a cigarette and the tears just started flowing. Not sobbing, just silently crying, oblivious to everything but her own misery. Sometimes people with family in the hospital will just talk your ears off and sometimes they're like this girl. It's really hard to not be able to comfort someone in this situation, but everyone does their grieving in their own way. I much prefer the ones who talk, however. I can fool myself into thinking that I'm helping by listening.

The trouble with the ones that talk, however... is that they ask questions that you have no right to answer about their loved ones' care. They look to you as someone 'in the know' even though you've no idea who the patient is that they're talking about. This can get to be an uncomfortable situation... they kinda want you to say something bad about their doctor or their nurse, some confirmation that what is happening to their loved one is actually someones' fault and not just the inexorable progression of a disease. When this situation occurs you just have to cut and run, you can't do anything but get into trouble.

Shit! I went by Hypermart and got a water supply line... the wrong one, of course. So I think that I'll let it wait until tonight when I can think straight.

Worried about our Electronic Environment? See what you can do to help out!

Note: Carrie, you gave me an address that doesn't work. Let's try it again...