Our babysitter is a great guy. Stay-at-home dad, blacksmith, CPR instructor . . . . he's got my life, basically, and he's great with our kids, which is not something just anybody can accomplish.
But last night, his wife was in some sort of traffic accident. I don't know any details, because he didn't know all the details when he called. He did mention "ambulance" and "broken leg." We'll just hope it's one of those "nice, clean breaks" I always hear about--from the way people talk, I assume those don't hurt. We can also be allowed to hope that's all that was wrong and there are no nasty surprises.
For today, though, Dave's not open and I'm home with the Bubba. I shall put on a brave face and struggle through somehow . . . . while the poor people go to work.
We're the Only Ones Paying Our Dues Enough
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