December 19, 2008


We had a harrowing Christmas Break-in at our home today.

Fortunately the intruder was my husband.

My husband is less than impressed that he was forced to burglarize his own home.

I don't blame him. Lyme has once again turned his life upside down. A bad flare in the neurological component of my Lyme forced him into a momentary life of high risk crime.

Cue the James Bond theme song now.

Unfortunately, the only chance he had at gaining access into our home was through our bedroom window before he would have to resort to breaking something expensive.

Oh, and our bedroom resides on the third story of our home.

Risking life and limb, Graham was forced to scale the slippery, snowy siding of our home to reach his point of entry between the slats of our mini blinds.

Now that he has safely survived his harrowing Christmas break-in, I must admit something. Secretly, I am actually rather impressed with myself. I have skill. Think about it. It takes skill to lock yourself out of a house that has a front door with a dead bolt.

Exactly how does one lock oneself out of a house that has to be locked from the OUTSIDE with a KEY?

Gee, if I knew the answer to that, we wouldn't have found ourselves in the predicament we did.

I have been been somewhat aware that I am currently somewhat spacey. Of course, the degree of severity somewhat eluded me until today. However, there have been several circumstances that have provided ample hints that should have clued me into the fact that I am not currently operating with a full deck.

For example, lately my blogs tend to be riddled with red lines. They actually take more time to edit then they do to write. My computer actually emits smoke each time I engage the spell check application.

Then there are the incredulous looks my kids get when I ask them what they'd like to eat or to get something from the fridge. I have been rather perplexed as to why these most mundane of questions somehow elicit puzzled looks and gales of laughter.

My confusion is short-lived, when between giggles they respond,
"Mom you just called the fridge an orange."
"Really, thanks but no thanks, we'd rather not eat a garburator for lunch."

So really, should it be any surprise that I somehow managed to lock us all out of the house this morning?

Oh, what my family suffers because of my lame lyme brain.

After our morning excitement, I needed to take Taylor to an appointment. You can imagine his apprehension at having me be the one to drive him there.

On the drive there, he kept reminding me that
"Green means GO!"
"Red means STOP!"
"Mom, do you remember that stop is spelled S-T-O-P?"

I thought he was just being cheeky until I glanced over and noticed his brow was beaded with sweat and he was rather pale. At least he'll maybe have some empathy for us and how we we feel whenever he's the one behind the wheel.

So that's the kind of week it's been in the Goertzen household.

Earlier this week, Graham asked me how I thought I was doing neurologically...
I think he has his answer.

He's married to a super duper space cadet.

No comments: