I have a weird fascination with disaster preparation.
There's nothing better than poring over a Red Cross list of emergency supplies ... dreaming of owning that battery-powered radio/lantern/
The freeze-dried food! The portable toilet! The gallon of water per day per person/dog! The emergency communication plan (in which you agree where you will meet family members should the cell network AND landlines go down)! The Costco-sized supply of toilet paper! The extra pairs of sturdy shoes for walking around your earthquake-devastated neighborhood!
The First Aid kit (good thing I've learned how to give injections. Now if only I could score a supply of morphine. Some sort of opiate would come in really handy)!
But, because I am such an incredibly fortunate person, the only thing I've had to prepare for lately is Jim's tooth extraction. We found out Friday that the dull ache was going to result in loss of a superfluous back molar and I flew into action.
Have to admit, he was nonplussed -- no, let's call it "a bit upset" -- about the glee with which I approached his upcoming dental episode.
The escorting home of my chipmunk-cheeked patient! The chicken soup! The monitoring of his medication! The hot tea! The observation of the excision repacking! The keeping him away from the computer lest his Vicodin-riddled brain result in business problems! The fresh sheets on the bed, ready for his return!
Oh, man. This is great. Just ask Jim!