Monday, September 18, 2017

Monday, Monday

9 PM Monday night finds Dax and I at the Auburn University Emergency Clinic. 
Before jumping to the finale, let me tell of how a promising day unraveled.
The day began with Allen clearing limbs, fallen during the storm, from the Farmhouse shrub beds...a day's worth, easy.
Flynn had both welders going building and repairing equipment.

And I was heading out to paint pasture fences.

My morning was punctuated with frustration aimed at the usually dependable small generator that was powering the equipment.
After an hour of trying to coax it to run 5 minutes without stalling, I gave up and we went to get mine.  My Honda is amazing, but weighs a couple hundred pounds.  

At least we were back in business!

And taking no prisoners.  33 gallons of black oil based paint in 7 hours. 

In order not to fight getting my hazmat suit off, I avoiding hydrating responsibly. Thinking as soon as I finished,I could go home and drink a gallon of water. Maybe eat something. Or not. Dax can foil any plans.
He was keeping me company as I was cleaning the paint machine and loading it up with Graco Armor, the recommended storage fluid. Dax's leash caught the bottle, some spilled and he lapped it up before I could stop him. I read the label, curious as to why he'd want to drink it to begin with. Ethylene alcohol. Antifreeze.  Oh dear God.
Quick call to our Dr Brown and she hastened me the vet school tout de suite.

You've never seen anyone wash her face and arms with mineral spirits so fast.
So here I sit at the vet school, pondering if I can play switcheroo with the money I'm supposed to be giving the hospital on Monday for my surgery.

Done. I'll figure it out tomorrow. He is insured because he's obviously inherited Cole's suicidal streak.
They want to keep him 36 hours for treatment. If it were Cole, I'd be sleeping in my car in the parking lot.  Not. I'm going back home tonight, eventually. 
Life, what a ride.

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