Turns out a dead tree limb had fallen into a 5 foot glass door in our kitchen. At 6 am, I am relieved, because at least that does not require an ambulance ride (which is kind of where my gauge reads. ambulance/ER visit=critical. all other things=not critical). We head back to bed and proceed to have another 'adult discussion' about having a gun in the home. I have no idea what natural disasters have to do with fire arms, but at that hour, it made perfect sense to P (he probably knows I'm in a weakened state until I've had my coffee). And I couldn't go back to sleep because I was so excited that we wouldn't be paying for repairs associated with this natural disaster.
The Glass Doctor came at 10:30 because that's the only time I told him not to come, and we were at swim lessons. The sight of me, lugging Lilah, with Garrett close behind, seems to make all repairmen nervous...I have no idea why?! The Dr. told us, of course, that "it was a rare size and would have to be special ordered. It would take 5 days, and did I want him to board it
up?". Ugh, no I think it's great to have a human-size walkway into my house. The Dr. chuckled and said "you'll be finding glass from this mess 2 years from now."--which is exactly what the mother of a child who hasn't worn shoes since May wants to hear.
I think he's right because the only mess I've seen worse than this was the time, in 7th grade, when a friend and I decided to make Orange Julias drinks and we (being "me") turned and lifted the pitcher, with the blade still turning. It splattered sugared orange mess across the state line and my mom is still griping about it.:)