Hello! Coming to you live from my basement! It’s a cool 82 degrees down here. Nothing compared to my bedroom boiling at 212 degrees fahrenheit. But you know what I always say, hell is hell.
- No air conditioning for the past 24 hours.
- Scott blew out his knee playing basketball at the gym – same knee he had ACL surgery on a year and half ago.
- And Keith Urban* doesn’t make house calls anymore.
*Keith Urban – a local Hvac hottie that looks exactly like Keith Urban. I found him through a friend (Hi, Patti!! I’m waving!) when my parent’s air conditioning went out a few years ago. My mom and I fell in love. We knock air conditioning units down with bats so Keith Urban will make a house call.
Sing it with me …. Sweet Thaaaang.
Seriously, this guy needs to advertise that he looks like Keith Urban. Oh wait, he doesn’t make house calls anymore. I damn near hung up on the secretary.
This time I didn’t knock our air conditioning unit down with a bat- not 4 days before we leave for vacation. It just stopped working. I swear, Scott.
Speaking of Scott … oh, that little athlete. If you haven’t figured it out yet – Scott and I are gym rats. Throw a trip to the Florida Keys in front of us, we attack the gym hard for 6 months.
Scott attacked the rim at a basketball game a little too hard. He snapped his knee. Twice. The same knee he had ACL surgery on after playing baseball one and a half years ago. He has a doctors appointment today. He possibly needs surgery again.
We had big plans for the Keys: I’m bringing the gun show. Scott is bringing his “‘Mericas” Chubbies.
The only gun show I will be showing is helping Scott pull his Chubbies on. And helping Scott up and down stairs. And helping Scott change out his ice packs on his knee. Here, can I just pour a pina colada down your leg? Where’s the blender? Devon! Photo opp!
I’m trying to find the silver lining here:
Our air conditioner will get fixed. There’s no Keith Urban at the end of this hot tunnel. I guess I don’t have to see Keith Urban.
A husband in crutches and two kids equals A1 boarding on the plane.
Oh, you’re on pain meds? Guess I’ll be taking your hard-earned free Southwest drink tickets.
Wheelchair races! Look at him goooo!! Weeeeeeee!! Splash.
The silver lining is anything is better than me sitting here in my basement listening to my snoring, sweating family. Just 4 more days.
Hell can’t possibly include palm trees, a sea breeze, deep sea fishing, and hey wait, is that Scott hobbling around in his Chubbies with a handle of rum?