The problem is Mrs. the Poet is a little squicked about this upcoming operation, and they have a new pre-op protocol that is eating up time. Something I find interesting that I never had to do is we have to do a scrub of the incision area and basically her whole body outside of the incision area starting 5 days pre-op. I never had to do any of that and I also never had any post-op infections. One would think the scrub done the day of the operation would be sufficient to the cause, but not? Anyway, this is contributing to Mrs. the Poet’s anxiety. And Mrs. the Poet’s anxiety is contributing to my own sense of unease.
And her and my unease are causing the cats to get nervous so the whole house is all a-quiver. Everybody is on edge and most don’t know why but they are.
In other news in about 90 minutes the green is supposed to fly in Fontana for the Cup race. This will give a little bit of normal for the house as most Sundays are race days, so that is good. We get a little of “nervous for sports event” which is a benign kind of nervous which will temporarily shove aside the “existential dread” kind of nervous that is making everyone act stupid. I need a little mindless entertainment that sports provides, for the distraction if nothing else.
Another interesting item the radio controlled forever clock and thermometer has decided to start working again after I put new batteries in it. It had previously stopped working after Clint knocked it off the desk last year and replacing the batteries had no effect, but this time replacing the batteries got the clock up and running, but it still won’t connect to the WWVB transmitter to set the time and date. That might be busted, that might be because we need to try that around midnight local time and it’s just after 1300 as I compose this. And just to be on the safe side I checked and WWVB is still transmitting, it’s just not propagating well because of the sun shining on this side of the planet. But the thermometer is working and telling me it’s 72°F in the office as I type.
Mrs. the Poet is calling lunch, and I really don’t have anything else to relate to you so this is a good time to put this post to bed.