This past month has been murder. First my Super Best Friend came to visit, which was awesome. We got drunk, played the Wii, got caught up, walked our dogs around my super sweet land, and generally had fun. That was until we were playing the Wii and Scott looked behind him to see that my dog had eaten Super Best Friend's shoe. My dog had never shown much inclination to chew anything she isn't supposed to, but that day she just felt it was time for some shoe. Some Super Best Friend shoe.
The month headed down hill from there. The day after my friend left, Scott drove off to work only to call me and tell me that he was taking himself to the hospital and that I should call our employer type person and let him know that he won't be in. I did the usual where I run around and panic for awhile, followed by acceptance.
Apparently, he narrowly avoided having a heart attack. For some reason, his blood pressure shot through the god damn roof. However they gave him medication, and both his doctor and the ER doctor told him he could go back to work.
Fine and dandy. Except for the fact that his second day back at work he hit himself in the side with something he was lifting and quite possibly broke his own rib.
Balls.
This pretty much eliminates working on the chicken coop. I just hope we can fix the things we need to fix before winter comes. I really need to get some more firewood, but I'm working so much I don't know when the hell I would order it. This month is trying to murder me. No, that's not right, it's trying to murder Scott.
Wish me luck you guys, I'm gonna need it.
Balls.
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