So I had a great time in Las Vegas. It was a week of pure, unadulterated pleasure with a good friend. It included non-stop parties and food and lingerie shows and new friends and good wine and brothels and the desert and intelligent discourse...truly non-stop. I really didn't want to come back...LOL.
The night before I left, I got a phone call from my sister who lives in Birmingham, Alabama. Our mother, who lives in Virginia, had been in an accident. She fell at home on or in the floor furnace (no one is sure which) and laid there for somewhere in the neighborhood of 18 hours. She has third degree burns on her legs and feet, and is in the burn unit of a Norfolk, Virginia hospital. I don't know how long she'll be there, but it will be some time. Her treatment includes wound vacs, skin grafts, heavy pain medication, and physical therapy. At some point, she'll be in a rehab facility for a long time, and then it will be determined where she will go. She can't go home. She's a hoarder. Like the kind on that TV show. I'll have to go there to see that certain things are done that should have been done last summer, but weren't. I've been on the phone a lot with the hospital and siblings and Virginia attorneys.
That, on top of the bullshit with the asshole.
I'll peek in when I have a chance.