Prescription: Hide under covers for at least three days You know how sometimes you think you could be on the verge of a meltdown? Yeah. Today is the day. The phone started ringing at 8 this morning. When you don't go to bed until after 2, the last thing you want to hear at 8 is the phone. Call 1: The landscaper. Can she come by at 1? Sure, great, no problem. Call 2: Telemarketer. We didn't pick it up. "Jessica" the computerized "person" left us a message about some catazine she wanted to be sure we'd gotten. A catazine. Who authorizes the creation of that word? Really, I'd like to know so I can call them up while they're sleeping. Call 3: My dad. "Have you talked to you mom?" I sat up in bed so fast my head was spinning. Me: Today?! Dad: Yeah. Me: NO. I talked to her yesterday. WHAT'S WRONG? Dad: Nothing, I just wondered how your grandma is doing. Me: HOLY HELL. You scared me. Call waiting comes in. Call 4: My sister. She's having a car problem. She doesn't want to tell my mom because of the stuff that's going on with my grandma. Me: Does dad know? Her: Yes. Me: Because I just talked to him and he didn't say anything about it. Call 5: Dad again. "Have you talked to your sister?" Me: Yeah, she just called. Dad: OK because I forgot to tell you about [her car problem]. Call 6: My mom. My grandma's getting nebulizer treatments because she's been having trouble breathing. If she can't breathe, she can't do the rehab work, so she's still in the hospital and not in rehab yet. She's been sad and wants my mom there with her at night. Call waiting comes in. I ignore it because... well, because we're talking about my grandma here, people. I don't tell her about my sister because she sounds like she has enough to deal with. Call 7: Voice mail. Landscaper. Can't find the directions I gave her, can I call her with them. Call 8: About an hour and a half later. Landscaper. They're held up at a job with a Bobcat. Can they come an hour later? Sigh. Fine. But I actually have a job to get to. Between calls 7 and 8, we tried to go to Michael's to get a frame for a project I'm working on and we couldn't even find a parking space. Because -- oh that's right. It's a "holiday." I say "holiday," because where I work, there ARE no holidays. The cogs toil on. I am a cog. Now if you'll pardon me, I have to get the sheets out of the dryer and make the bed while we're waiting for the landscaper to show up. Or perhaps call and ask if they can come at 2 a.m. Cuz, you know... I'll be up.