This weekend was interesting.

Saturday I was watching a little TV with the kids when a loud rap came at the door.  Well, it was probably rude of me not to stand up, but I hurt and so I just reached for the doorknob and opened it.  I believe she asked for Cimmorene and thankfully my dear wife did go to see her at the door.

Okay, so I know not all of you reading are traditional religious types, so I say that what she said next ... well, I will tell you what I thought, and I suppose you can tell me later how you figure.  It was something to the effect of "the Lord lead us to you..."

Okay, my relationship with the Divine is pretty personal, but I can say that I'm pretty confident the Lord didn't intend to irritate me this way.  Maybe, maybe, a lesson might be found in helping someone with their troubles, and forgetting my own for a while, but, I already had a discussion with a number of folks including Cimmy and our bishop about explaining to them that they need to ask for help from a ... wider network.  And although I've been down and out before, well, hmmm... I just wish they weren't so ... needy.

Oh yes, I said they.  I realized that Henpecked Boyish Husband was there, too.  Mercifully, Cimmy went outside to talk to them and shut the door.

From what I understood before that, their troubled daughter (whom I'm sure I've mentioned before) OD'd and somehow they couldn't get her to go inpatient-- something about she had to consent first.  Now that I type that, yep, you have to sign the paperwork (reading, hun?) and if she refused, whelp, she ain't going.  Then again, when I went, I did figure it was a good idea.  Both times.

There was a knock again Sunday.  Ok, this is in poor taste to reveal a name, but if I don't inject some humor here, I'm probably going to scream or cry.  When a redhead named Wendy knocks on my door, I want to be offered burgers and such that are Way Better Than Fast Food, not... Cup O' Madness.  Believe me, I've already had mine with The Mad Hatter at some pathetic American excuse for teatime at random times throughout the day.  There's already enough on my plate, and actually, it's a saucer, where the herbal tea is poured out to cool it, old-school, old-fashioned.  Thing is, the saucers are edible, so I have to keep getting new ones.

Oh, right, my point.  She was gushing on about how her daughter was home and... I interrupted, saying I was in a lot of pain and Cimmy was asleep.  She asked me to have her call her... and so I told Cimmy-- late that night.

Good... Lord.  (No pun intended, I swear.)