On Saturday, I started packing. I packed one entire box. It was very exciting. Then, I went through my closet and decided that I didn’t really want to get rid of anything, because I’ve done three purges in the last year and have apparently gotten rid of everything that is not essential.
So, that wasn’t very productive at all.
The architect worked all day because he has a free-lance project, and the client was coming to meet with him at
I was going out with some girlfriends.
At about eight, I kissed the architect good-bye, and went to pick up one of my friends. We went to
Much fun was had, and 2 (two!) beers a piece were finished. Which is incredibly sad and pathetic.
(that’s me on the far left)
Then, we left, because
The photo doesn’t really do it justice, but it was very very interesting. I would like to go back there during the day to re-take the photo, but not sure if I’ll ever make it.
When I returned home, the architect was sad, for not only did his client not show up, but didn’t even call to cancel. Which is crap. I offered to hunt the client down and kick him repeatedly in the shins, but we decided we should get the payment first.
Sunday I was tired. So, I decided to skip the usual mountain bike ride. The architect went alone. Just as he walked out the door, I said, “Call me when you need me.”
At about 2, the phone rang, interrupting my geek-fest (I was watching Buffy & playing Neverwinter Nights). It was the architect. He’d “had a little spill” and wondered if I could come pick him up – and suggested I bring the first aid kit. I packed a little first aid kit, grabbed some aspirin, and left.
Of course, I was behind every bad driver in LA, so it took me almost a half-hour to get to where he was waiting. He was pretty scraped up, as well as dirty and bloody, but didn’t look too bad. I attempted to do some first aid, but quickly realized that I didn’t bring nearly enough stuff. He refused my offer of the emergency room. Then I noticed that he was still wearing one glove (my glove, in fact, as he’d borrowed my MUCH tighter gloves that morning), and that blood was oozing through.
I told him not to take the glove off. So, about 10 minutes later, he pulled the glove off. At that point, he turned a grey-ish color. The hand was in pretty bad shape. He changed his mind about the emergency room.
I dropped him off at the ER just before
The PA got him all cleaned up and gave him three stitches. Then, a nurse came in to attempt to clean his arm up.
The worst injury is a tiny one covered by a bandage on his right hand, but his arm was much more dramatic looking. Some of the skin on his arm is gone. Some is burned black. Some is merely scraped. Pretty.
Three hours later, we were finally discharged. By now, he was starving, so we went to the closest restaurant we could: IHOP. (Six hours after my turkey burger, I was paying homage to the porcelain throne – yummy.)
So, my poor baby has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow to talk about when the stitches come out and if we will have to cancel our backpacking trip planned for next weekend.
The weekend of excitement ended with an (understatement of all time) unseasonable thunderstorm (in JUNE! with thunder! and lightning! it was confusing).
I’m almost glad it’s Monday, but the architect wants a redo on the weekend.