Holy Domestic Crisis, Batman!

What a Sunday!
 
Since this blog is for my near and dear ones to keep track of my exciting adventures in the world of suddenly losing one of your five senses, I won’t go into the gory details of a domestic crisis. Suffice it to say that at ten o’clock last night a service van and trailer full of gear were pulling away from our door and we had a brand-new oil tank in our basement. 
 
That’s life, kids.  One of those things that happens when you're fortunate enough to own your own home. 
 
Writing stuff down in the little spiral notebook I carry constantly is still easier for us (Husband, close co-workers) than ASL signing, especially since we don’t have that many signs yet; so we have to make ourselves make the effort to stop and sign, instead of reaching for the notebook right away out of force of habit. But we must keep practicing and rely on writing as little as possible because if we don't, we will never learn to sign naturally and easily, which will make writing everything down seem like backbreaking work by comparison.

CAT scan tomorrow!! Husband suggested when they made the appointment that I might get in earlier if we told them we could supply our own cat, but oddly enough that didn’t change things. (I even offered to bring both; they could trade them off, like twin infants in tv shows, and double their on-screen time. No go.)
 
Wednesday I see Dr. H.; at that time I’ll ask him if he has any clue about when I might be going to Halifax for the evaluation.  I am impatient, but trying not to be. 
 
ronnie