Poor Baby

Liam has an ear infection. We suspected something was wrong when he was fussing and tugging at his right ear last night, and by this morning he was wailing. (The odd thing is that the infection is actually in his left ear, not the right.) Poor little guy. Will stayed with him today and took him to the pediatrician, then to Target to pick up antibiotics, and then home for a couple of nice long naps.

When I got home from work, small William was still napping, so full-sized William and I attempted to fix the garage door. I have lived in this house for two and a half years now, and I've spent at least four months of that time parking outside of our perfectly good garage. First it was a gear, then the spring, then the light, and now a cable snapped. So we went to the hardware store and bought the wrong cable. Then we went back and bought the right cable but meanwhile we accidentally threw away a little clamp that was attached to the old cable. We attempted to substitute a different type of clamp, which seemed to be working until the garage door got all the way down, and then it snapped and scared the living you-know-what out of me. Oh, and I forgot to mention how we struggled to connect everything, and Will pinched his finger. Arghh!

As if that weren't enough, we also have a leaky pipe. When we run the upstairs shower, water drips into the office. We found where the leak is but it's nearly impossible to access, so we decided to leave the fixing to a pro. He's coming Friday and until then I am roughing it, using the downstairs shower that is usually Man Territory, complete with requisite mildew and Irish Spring.

Ah, the joys of being a grown-up. I am looking forward to a little escape from adulthood next month when my book club reads that coming-of-age modern classic, Are you there God, It's me Margaret.