On Wednesday last week, I started my day thinking: Working from home, trying to meet an urgent deadline. What could possibly go wrong?
Anything that could go wrong and delay the deadline happened that morning. Here’s how it all happened.
My first interruption was having to provide an ambulance service for our housekeeper, whose foot suddenly swelled-up and was very painful, making walking to the bus stop to go home a nightmarish business. So I popped her into my little car and drove her the 10km home, where she insisted on going, despite my suggesting an immediate visit to the doctor. She said her daughter would take her to the clinic to get the inflammation seen to.
I have since spoken to the poor woman and it seems it was a first attack of gout. Anyone who’s had gout knows how debilitating it can be. Fortunately she is getting treatment.
When I eventually got back home from my mercy mission, I walked straight into a reminder that the younger of our two small dogs does not like wearing a collar, any collar. She had gotten bored while I was away playing ambulance driver and decided to distract herself by trying to slip out of her flea collar. Of course, not having opposable thumbs, this proved to be a difficult operation as she should well know, having tried this at least once or twice before in her year of being alive.
When I walked in, the dog was in a terrible panic, which threw me into a mild one. The poor creature was shivering and panting, wet with saliva that was mixed with a little blood from where she had tried to bite through the buckle on her flea collar.
As I said, she has attempted this manoeuvre a couple of times in the past, but always when one of us was around to prevent damage to either dog or collar and to try to teach her the error of her ways. This time she was on her own with only her brother, who has no collar problem and doesn’t seem to understand hers.
Anyway, I unbuckled the collar and gave her the once over to see that no lasting damage had been done. Thankfully none appeared to have occurred. Once she was free from the collar, it took ages to calm her down. Eventually she settled and all the while her brother watched the drama unable to assist but at least not interfering as one would have expected him to do.
He ordinarily suffers from massive FOMO (Fear Of Missing Out) and whenever he sees her getting any attention, jumps in as if to say: And me, and me!
That is how it came to pass that nearly three hours after I had promised to hand in my finished article to an editor, I finally sent it with an understated note that said I’d had a domestic emergency. Hopefully it was an acceptable, valid reason.