One time Emmi couldn't be picked up because her dad's brother, I guess that would be her uncle, was in a car accident. Apparently it was bad, because later that day "he was going to go into a coma," according to Emmi's dad. You know, he needed to be available to his mom and family for the moment when he brother went into said coma. I never did inquire about how that "going into a coma" went, but later that day his brother was posting on myspace. So I am guessing, he didn't decide to go into a coma afterall.
Also, his grandpa died, like, four times. And? Once while I was in the hospital with Emmi, my mom by my side (since my parents had even come into town to be with Emmi), her dad called to tell me he couldn't be there cause that same grandpa was in the hospital. I didn't even try to explain that his DAUGHTER was in the hospital at that very moment, a fact he was very much aware of. Cause, let's face it, I didn't really feel like dealing with him being there anyway. It's not that he is rude or anything, I just get irrational irritated with his mundane questions. Questions he should know the answers to if he bothered to pay attention or show up for things, like, surgeries. Anyway, his grandpa was dying AGAIN. Which must have been really hard on his grandpa. Having to die so many times.
So when my phone rang yesterday, I wasn't entirely surprised to hear that Emmi's dad had hurt his shoulder. You know the same exact shoulder that he called to tell me last week he hurt in the same exact way. I gave him the benefit of the doubt. Perhaps he was still referring to last week's injury. Which didn't seem so injured when I refused to give in and let him skip his visitation.
"When did you fall, and break your shoulder?"
I pause. Maybe he meant last Tuesday. Although, last week, he told me it happened on Friday, and had gone straight to the doctor. "So to clarify, you fell off of the trailer, breaking your shoulder THIS Tuesday, as in two days ago."
"That's right." He launches into the whole story again about kicking blocks and losing his balance. I let him go for awhile. I am grinning. Now I am outright laughing. People are looking at me, I am laughing so hard.
"Should I stop you now, or keep letting you look like a dumbass?" He pauses when I say this. "Cause you called me on FRIDAY, four days before Tuesday, and told me this whole story already."
Silence. He is trying to figure a way out of this. I can almost hear him thinking.
But, there is no use trying to explain. I already have it figured out. He must be psychic. It is a gift. And really, I should stop being so mean to him.