Unusual

This morning, as I sat watching the news before the clock struck 7 and the dogs awaited my command to take off in search of deer tracks, I heard emergency sirens wailing in the distance.

The city part of my brain said, "Oh, sure." But the more awake part of me remembered: "No, wait, we're not in the city. We're in the boonies!"

The sound of sirens wailing close enough to hear here means that something not-so-good is happening to someone in The Village. Oh, oh. I hope it was nothing as bad as all the ruckus suggested and I hope to find out once I'm in town in a few hours.

For my part, I'm glad that there's nothing close to an emergency here this morning. A piece of charred salmon I had for lunch at a village eatery yesterday didn't settle well with me so I wasn't too happy for most of the afternoon and early evening. Thankfully, by bedtime, all was well again.

My husband tells the tale of how, when he was younger, he went camping and took as provisions a slightly past best-by-this-date ham his dad gave him from the garage freezer. He ate the ham and promptly became sick. But after he'd puked his heart out, he was hungry again. I've always said that what would land anyone else in the hospital, is a simple nuisance to my husband. He has the health of an Arabian horse. God bless him.

I, with a less sturdy constitution (albeit an iron will) and several dietary restrictions, am very careful what I eat and where I eat it. Needless to say, I won't be having any salmon at that eatery again ever. But all is well that ends well, I say.

I was sorry that it was the lunch that didn't agree with me because we had gone there to celebrate the birthday of one of my former students, who is now the department's student assistant, who turned 19. The lunch itself was fun but the aftermath precluded my having a piece of the beautiful cake that the department administrator had procured for the birthday girl as a lovely surprise. But, again, it's not like I need any cake, so that's also not a bad thing.

But to add insult to injury, once I returned home looking forward to enjoying the quietude of my little apartment and the company of my peludos, my one-year-old laptop finally gave up the ghost. It refused to boot up even in Safe Mode. That's a Bad sign, with a capital b, indeed.

After tinkering with the laptop for a while, I decided that I had to go get my school laptop if I wanted to be able to finish my work for the night. Thus, I got Rusty in the car and drove less than a mile to my office. Rusty, of course, will volunteer for any adventure that involves getting in the car, so he was his goofy-looking-dog self not caring that we're not in the business of leaving our apartment after 9 o'clock at night.

Once I brought the school laptop home and got it to work, after another hour or so, all was well again, especially since my husband also called to say that he'd arrived safely from a work trip and was home with the very happy kitties.

While some days may start with the disturbing sounds of unusual disruption, or may hold disruption in their midst, I am truly grateful that all days, good and bad, do pass. And that all is well that ends well.