If It Weren't For Bad Luck...

When last we met, I was gushing about our wonderful new house. We were feeling "top floor" at the time, but it turns out that our move was more like stepping into an elevator, from the "top floor", only to find that it is swinging precariously from a single frayed wire. Occasionally the box unexpectedly plummets, just a few floors at a time. 

Two days after our big move, The Boy's motor scooter was stolen from our driveway. Although it was recovered by the police only one street over, it had been totaled, and the carburetor was missing. (Phoey on you, Thieves, because the carburetor was already busted!). Needless to say, the scooter was not insured, as it is not required by our state.

Within two weeks of settling in, I had to rescue my daughter from a dime sized ceiling spider. When the little bugger unexpectedly took the upper hand, I freaked out and fell backward off of the ladder. Luckily I landed firmly on my right foot ... which promptly twisted to the side and snapped in the middle. Being that we already have a nice stack of unpaid medical bills in the filing cabinet, I did not go to the doctor. I also did not get a chance to rest and heal, as my lovely children misinterpreted the event as vacation. They practically celebrated the temporary reprieve from all of their chores, which includes keeping the pets alive, and never gave thought to picking up my slack. My foot is now permanently damaged, and I sometimes fall into a limp. Oh well, such is life. I actually found myself grateful for the life experience.

Just about two weeks after my own accident, Hubsy's back went out, which it has done about twice a year for fifteen years, as the result of a car accident. It's almost quite routine; his back goes into spasms and stiffens, he goes to the doctor, "Here's some meds, don't work for a few days.", and it's done. This time was a little bit different. As we have not yet found a new local family doctor, Hubsy went to the "franchise clinic" located less than a mile from our home, at three times the copay of our family doctor (and of course another bill that comes later). This doctor was amazed that no other doctor had thought to X-Ray his spine since we completed the whole joke of a court case fifteen years ago. So, off to the specialist (at twice the copay) for an MRI, which reveals that he has a severely herniated disk. "Here's some meds, and don't work for a few days." Hubsy returns to the specialist to begin a treatment regimen that may, or may not, rid him of pain. With the assurance that insurance would cover it, he took the first shot. Come to find out, even with insurance, the treatments are $300 a pop. "Thank you, Doctor, it's been nice knowing you. I'll be expecting your bill." 

For a while, the proverbial elevator seemed to stabilize. Even though Punkin and I were no longer babysitting, my son had given up his job to relocate with us, and Hubs had missed a bit of work, we managed to keep the lights on, the water flowing. and the rent paid (among other bills of course), even if everything was either a month behind, or at least a few weeks late. Then again, we were pretty hungry. I dropped two sizes trying to make sure that the kids weren't hurting.

Thank the Universe for friendly neighbors who bring fresh laid eggs, and those who bring fresh garden veggies, and Aunts who surprise us with school supply money. And don't forget, it was throughout this time that we were able to enjoy and appreciate all of the things that I had listed in my previous post, The House That Keeps On Giving. We thought "maybe, the elevator will remain stable, And maybe we could pry open the doors. And then maybe we could find the up-escalator, or at least a set of stairs.

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