Compassionate Wife...

On the Fourth, we were "taking a day off" (insert a hint of sarcasm and a rolling on the floor in laughter).

Hugsum was in the garage reorganizing the mountain of boxes (again!) and going through them. He moved all my Christmas stuff up to the attic along with boxes of our "valuables" that I (we) just could not part with at this time and have no place to use junk that's in them.

He was also repacking the boxes and boxes of our valuable stuff that I had set aside to dump - I mean sell at a garage sale.

We had big plans for that night. We were going to the fireworks at Dry Gulch with our son and his family. Hugsum had gotten up and put on a nice patriotic outfit (shorts and t-shirt with a flag on it). I told him that I didn't want him to work up a sweat, but take it easy! PLEASE don't mess up your nice outfit!!! (again insert rolling on the floor in laughter at the absurdity of that request)

Our daughter was bringing her visiting in-laws over later in the day to swim and since they had never been to our home, I felt like I needed to have it spotless (at this point I became Martha, Martha ...). I was running around dusting and picking up trash and rearranging things. Especially as he was bringing in boxes and things saying, "this is REAL nice, we need to have this out!"... or, "you are going to get rid of THIS???? It is one of my favorite things!" To which I would respond, "cute, or money in your pocket?" ... he would then take it back out to the "sell" pile.

Well, just as our daughter called to say that they were on their way (remember they live 1.5 miles from me), Hugsum comes running through the front door across the carpet into the kitchen requesting bandaids. I come around the corner w/ dust rag in hand and see... drops of blood all on the floor in the foyer, on the carpet, on the kitchen floor and on the counter, down the front of the cabinets - so, being the nurturing, compassionate person that I am, I ran to get the peroxide (oh and bandaids)...

Then, he decides since he hasn't washed it off enough (oh he sliced the end of his finger on a piece of glass), he decides to take his now soaking, dripping watered down bloody finger back through the living room. down the hall and into the bathroom...

What was I doing???? Running all over the house with the peroxide pouring it on all the spots!
Yep, I was horrified... not about his finger, but here I was about to have company - my daughter's in-laws, and my clean house had blood all over it! It looked like we had had a knock down drag out and somebody was hurt bad! (oh, I guess he was hurt bad!)

I came to my senses and did pour some of the peroxide on his finger and help him to wrap it up with bandaids. Then I went back to frantically scrubbing up the blood. (it did come out of the carpet without a trace, PTL!)

Just as I got that cleaned up, I looked and our little well trained dog had pooped in the hall and thrown up in front of the door!!!!

I had to laugh... I cleaned it up quickly... our family arrived and we had a good time. I even served some snacks - even though they were not elegant or profound... I became "Merrie" once again and hope never to be "Martha" EVER again. I'm so much nicer and more fun as me.