Not What I Had In Mind

Kurt and I went to town for tile. The store was closed. We went to another store that had the right kind of tile, but not the right colors. So to keep it from being a wasted trip, I got the peg board for storing my gazillion spools of thread. Of course, I don't have enough hooks. And naturally, it doesn't look the way I envisioned, so I spent a lot of time rearranging. Then I junked up my newly cleared off table by moving the contents of the rocking chair because I needed a place to sit. Someday...ah, forget it. My sewing room will never be neat and clean and organized.

THEN (no, still not ever simple) Kurt was complaining of being light-headed, having headaches, feeling weak- I tested his sugar. 415. Of course I freaked, wouldn't you? I rushed him to the ER...where they declared his sugar to be 123. What? I'm still not satisfied, and I am certain I will wake beside his lifeless corpse and that will be all my fault for not insisting on retesting/more testing/123 ain't exactly normal, ya following? This wife stuff is hard shit.