Intestinal Parasites, a SWAT Team & a Police Chopper: Just a Regular Tuesday Morning at my House.

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My morning started with intestinal parasites, a SWAT team at my door and a police chopper circling overhead. And a very annoyed FPL guy.

Let me back it up a bit.

The Parasites

The night before, my daughter alerted us to the fact that she had something tickling her butt. Upon further inspection, we discovered tiny little squirmy things in her poop. Yes. You read that right.

Turns out it’s pinworm. You can puke. I wanted to.

So I spent all night washing and disinfecting everything in the house before going to bed.

But when I woke up to pee, I couldn’t fall asleep again because I was stressing out about all kinds of important things.

Like the intestinal parasites that are likely lurking all over my room. And possibly festering inside me.

The Bikini Wax

I began to feel itchy “down there” so I decided to investigate. I was now lying there with my legs spread, using the flashlight on my phone to inspect my parts and I realized I was in desperate need of some landscaping. But should I shave, wax or laser?

And so for the next hour, I obsessed over and debated the merits of each. At least it took my mind off the worms.

All this to say I didn’t sleep much during the night and must have fallen into a very deep sleep because I was jarred awake by someone banging incessantly at my door.

The Nudity

Now, I sleep naked.

And while I normally have my “PJs” next to the bed, they weren’t there this morning because wormies.

So, half-asleep, I found something to throw on and answered the door. A man was telling me he needed me to let him into my yard to pick up trees. He was wearing a neon vest but I noticed there was no truck parked out front.

I came inside to put on something less rapey and some sneakers and to call my husband and ask if he had called to have our trees trimmed. He told me he hadn’t and not to let the guy in. I tried going back outside to ask him for credentials but it was too late. He had decided to let himself into my yard anyway.

The Popo

At that point, I realized he was actually just there to pick up trees. But it was too late.

When I called my husband back to let him know, he informed me he had called the cops. I begged him to cancel. This poor dude is out there, sweating his ass off, just trying to do his job.

And then, I heard the chopper.

There was another knock on the door. It was an officer with some kind of assault rifle at the ready. Closely followed by like 4 more units. And the police helicopter circling my house.

I wanted to die of embarrassment.

I tried to explain to the officers (who thought they were going to thwart a home invasion) that my husband had perhaps been a little overly cautious and that calling them was completely unnecessary while they lectured me about asking for credentials.

I am certain Miami Dade’s finest went back to the station and had a good laugh watching the body cam video of the “hysterical female” who called the cops on the poor FPL dude.

Moral of the story: When in doubt, don’t call your husband.

Note to self: Schedule a bikini wax. Stat.

How did your week start out? Let me know in the comments below!

Dear Daddy: Remembering My Father

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Five years ago today, I was at work. I was afraid of losing my job. But mainly, I was afraid of losing my father.

So I went to the office to distract myself from the latter while trying to prevent the former.

My friend told me to go. To spend as much time as possible with him.

As it turns out, I would end up losing both.

I went home to try and nap a little. I didn’t know how long he had left and I don’t do well on no sleep. But I couldn’t. I was terrified that by the time I got there it would be too late.

So I rushed to my parent’s house.

And waited.

And as I waited, I wrote a letter to him. A letter which I was blessed to have been able to read to him before he passed.

We watched my father take his last breath at 12:26 a.m. on August 4, 2012.

So as I remember him on this day, I wanted to share the letter I wrote him.

Dear Daddy:

My heart is breaking as I write this. Although you’ve been sick for some time and I’ve tried to mentally prepare for this day, I don’t think anything I could have done would have prepared me for the sorrow and emptiness I’m feeling. The hopelessness. The helplessness.

I vacillate between wanting to spend your last moments with you. Needing to be there when you pass. And needing to run away from myself. Wanting to crawl out of my skin. Away from this pain. And I know that’s selfish. Becuase you’re going to a better place. A place where you’ll no longer feel pain. Or be trapped in this body that has betrayed you for so long.

And it’s selfish because mom needs me to be strong. After caring for you for so long, she needs to be taken care of. Especially now that she’s losing her companion of 44 years. The ride wasn’t always smooth. But you stuck by each other. And no matter what, you were always there for us.

So as I sit by your side and see your life reduced to a few pictures strategically chosen to show you in your youth, with your wife, with your children, and your grandchildren that I count myself blessed to have had you be able to meet – I can’t help but be sad.

This is so final. I will never be able to see your face again. Or joke around with you. All I’ll have left of you are these pictures. And my memories. And the regret that we didn’t get a chance to make more.

I hope you know how very much you were loved. Are loved. And how very much you will be missed by all who were fortunate to have known you.

I love you, Daddy