If this weekend wasn't made for a headache, I don't know what was. We did get the good news about the CT scan, if upcoming surgery can be considered good news, but we got the bad news that the Beetle needs repair and the best scenario is going to be 500 dollars. The worst scenario is a new engine which means we take it someplace far away from here and trade it in on something else.
Tiffany is moving today which has been a major "I've-got-my-head-in-a-vice" activity from the start. The plan was that I would drive up with Steve and we'd leave about noon. He called at 1:00 and said there had been a delay. #**#@*#*. You know how I hate that. When we were married, if we planned to go on a vacation or away for the weekend, he would get up and putz around for hours, then say he was going to have the oil checked on the car while I sat by the front door with my suitcase in my hand. It was grounds for murder. I've relaxed a lot about this because the Current Occupant doesn't deliberately try to irritate me in this regard.
Peter moves tomorrow, but, BLESS HIS HEART, he has everything packed and organized and labeled and has taken care of much of it himself. Unlike his random, disorganized SPACE CADET sister. She has decided that rather than lope around Minneapolis sleeping on couches for a week, she'll come home with her friend Teresa tomorrow and start looking for a job. Maybe a tiny bit of common sense has oozed into her head. There is always hope.