Call of Duty

Mrs. Gnu is not feeling well this morning. So, being the loyal, loving husband I am, I decide to work from home. The office is 20 feet down the hall from the bedroom, same floor, no minefields, fences or Indiana Jones type of traps across the way.

So, here I am, just hacking away at the morning's to-do list, when my cell phone rings.

Me: "Hello?"

The Missus: "Hi Sweetie!"

Me: "Why are you calling me on my cell?"

TM: "I've been calling you for 5 minutes and you haven't responded!"

Me: (pure instinct) "That's odd, there's nothing in my voicemail..." (Checks both phones for missed calls and messages)

TM (growling): "That's not what I meant!"

Once a geek, always a geek!

Gotta run, duty calls.

Who Finished Who?

Well, the garage is clean. So is the office closet. I wanted to tackle the other closets and the filing cabinets but I have filled up the dumpster to capacity. So the rest will have to wait until another time. Still, I can look back and see the progress I have made and tell a real difference in the way these two parts of the house look. In a total of two intensive working days, I have thrown out enough stuff to fill up a big roll-off container.

Unfortunately, there were some brief side effects to all this.

About 2am this morning, I woke up with chest pains, shortness of breath, cold sweat, dizziness and nausea. The Missus roused the Gnu Herd in an air raid scramble and broke her personal best landspeed record rushing me to the emergency room. A bunch of checks later and we have ruled out heart attack. I'm home resting. That's the good news.

Bad news is, no one is sure what hit me or whether it was a one-timer or something that's coming back. We'll find out soon as I pursue answers. Wish me luck.