Okay, the lice are dealt with, although I should know better than to say so. Combing and recombing the Eldest's hair, we found it reliable that should I say, 'right. I think we're done,' on that stroke of the comb something eggish or wriggly should turn up.
But I do think we are done. Nothing eggish, wrigglish or nittish has turned up on lo these many days. Which allows me to turn my attention to:
* the nasty cold with hacking cough bonus that I picked up on Day Two of the Lice Saga. Grimly, it has held on, awaiting it's moment in the spotlight. It will, however, have to compete with
* the broken oven door. Ma'am, that'll be [x hundreds of dollars]. I'll be back with the part on the 22nd. Until then, don't use the oven - it's for your own safety. My horrified face spoke for itself, I like to think, and may have had somewhat to do with why he disappeared so quickly thereafter.
* the broken faucet. Not content with leaking quietly, the faucet cleverly disconnected itself from the pipe under the sink, spraying water everywhere. One plumber's visit later, the pipe was grumpy but reconnected, and the kind plumber cleaned the inside of the head for us, to help improve flow. The faucet retaliated by leaking furiously and at an increasing rate. The part, I am assured, will arrive early next week. One can only hope that my incoherent roaring managed to drown out the snickering faucet.
* the conjunctivitis. Yep, the Eldest had crusty yellowish-greenish stuff on his eyelashes, which I kindly cleaned off for him last night. He didn't appreciate it, but the bacteria in the gunk did, and promptly took advantage. Now we are both oozy and itchy-eyed, I've roared at him (and felt guilty, of course) and the Man is on his way home, erev Shabbat [sabbath eve], with much antibiotic eye creams. Mindful of the holiday weekend, and considering the eye-rubbing of the Eldest, I asked the pediatrician to prescribe some ointment for the Toddles...just in case. Meanwhile, I set grimly about the business of conjuring up dinner for an oven-less family, who scant hours before Shabbat realized that they weren't going out for dinner.
Which makes me wonder. When the lice hit, the Man escaped the plague, but shaved his head regardless. Now that pink-eye has come to play, I wonder if he'll take a nail scissors to his eyelashes?
Shabbat shalom, all. May the sabbath bring us peace, quiet amongst the modern conveniences (there's a Flanders and Swann song about such mod cons that's too appropriate just now), and liquid comfort for the oozing and itching of eye.
***************************Oh, and feeling a little paranoid about the comforts of your life? Sitting in my sanctum, with the blinds closed tightly in front of the broken window, I am. And then I popped in here: http://www.mistercrunchy.com/mainblog.html and read his post on backing up.
My first thought was, oh no! Backing up my computer? And then I remembered the hideous day when I discovered that I'd lost three months of notes and draftwork for a major article, and had a deadline AND Rosh Hashana breathing down my neck...maybe it's time to go set up a backup service. Because, um, I always mean to back up, but, um, you know.