Not even 8am

I’m sitting in the waiting area at the emergency room right now, waiting The Zen Master to arrive.

My phone rang about 20 minutes ago.

“So… Uh… I guess I’m going to the ER.”

“Wait… What??”

“I burned my hand.”

“Bad? Of course it was bad, why would you go to the ER if it wasn’t bad… Are you OK?”

“It looks pretty bad.”

“You’re going to Tiny-Hospital-In-Our-Town?”


“I’ll meet you there.”

“Oh? Um… Ok…”

I’m not exactly sure why he was surprised I am going too… Princess Punk is home with The Peach, it’s not like I’m leaving the toddler to fend for herself…

So here I sit…

Shit. They just told me they’re bringing him in by ambulance. Which means it’s worse than I was led to believe by his oh-so-calm attitude on the phone. I don’t call him The Zen Master for nothing.

Now I’m nauseous. It’s just his hand so it’s not life-threatening, but if it’s bad, he probably won’t be able to work, at least for awhile. Not like he gets sick leave. He does have short-term disability insurance but it’s not much.

God, I hope he’s OK.



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