Time For Snoozing

HH does indeed have sleep apnea. They recommend that he wear
a machine thingy at night. Ooh! How romantic.

Can he get a machine for his foot, to clear up the Athlete's Foot
fungus? Cause he tries to say that I gave it to him, which is kind of
faulty logic, really, because I don't have it, and he's had it for going
on two months now. He has tried powder, and spray-can stuff,
and a tube of some kind of ointment. I suppose he could get a
prescription to get rid of those mouthy little critters who cram in
under the big toenail and wreak havoc on the nail beds. I hate that
commercial. I have to change the channel when it comes on.
Perhaps that's why HH can't find a cure. As for the logic thingy...
HH would not be very good at those math questions about 'Jane
lives in the house on the corner. Tom has dandruff. Susie's dad
used to be her mom. On what day will Brad see the full moon.'

I think HH needs a machine to cure the chronologically challenged.
Like yesterday...he came home early from work so he could go to
be put to sleep. At 7:30. On a normal day, he gets home around
5:15. I don't know why he had to leave early.

Today, HH again left work early. He said he had an appointment
to check on his balance to see if it's an inner ear thingy. At least
that's what I thought he said. I kind of tune him out, because it
seems like he is going to a specialist once or twice a week. That
new doctor has found his goose, and I want my golden eggs back.
This guy could stay in practice with just ONE patient: HH.

Also today, I told the kids on the way home: "I bet Dad is there
when we get there. He probably told work, 'I had to be put to
sleep last night. Can I go home early?'" They agreed that he would
be there. He was. Standing in the garage. My first thought was,
"Oh, he's going to carry in my stuff." Not really. My first thought
was, "How does that man get out of so much work?" But my
second thought was about the carrying of my stuff. Did he do it?
Nope. I had to whine, "I guess I'll take in the mail and my purse,
and then come back out for my stuff."

HH said, "What stuff? Do you have stuff?" He does that after I
go to town for groceries, too. It's a total mystery to him where
I get all this stuff. Then he added, "I was just standing in the garage
waiting for you to get home." Please, tell me that is just an HH-ism,
not the truth. The boys and I get home anywhere between 4:00
and 5:30. HH left work today at 1:30. I can picture him there in
his khaki shorts and bright orange shirt, looking out hopefully
every time he heard a car on the gravel. For two hours. (because
he needed time for the appointment, and to drive home.) We got
here at 4:50. That's a lot of garage-standing. Like Gordie said
about Vern digging for his lost jar of pennies under the porch in
Stand By Me (and in the Stephen King short story, The Body):
"Man. You don't know whether to laugh or cry."

Maybe I'll get HH a giant Flavor Flav watch on a big gold chain,
and have my third-grader teach him all about time.

Or maybe I should just put a chair in the garage.