For the first few days I’m on the pump, I have to wake every three hours and test my blood sugar, to insure my insulin doses are set up correctly. Going in, I was short of sleep. So, last night, my nurse agreed to give me a break for a night.
Nora was tucked in and sleeping, I was dosing off, with the help of my good friend dyphenhydramine (I wasn’t leaving a good night’s sleep to chance!). It was nearly 9:00pm.
And then some jerk knocked on the front door, causing the dog to bark and Nora to wake up crying in fright.
I flew to the front door and opened the peep hole. It was not a neighbor in need of help, it was two schmucks I’d never seen before. “Go away!” I shouted and slammed the peep hole.
“Go away?” the fat jerk queried in a surprised, nearly mocking tone.
There are many things I could have said in response. For example:
“Listen Jackass, you just woke up my entire family, the chances of you selling me anything are the same as your chances of seeing me eat two turds plucked out of a stinking, tepid rain barrel.”
— or —
“You’re lucky I don’t own a gun, fatty, cause you’d be ready for the smokehouse right about now, so BEAT IT.”
— or —
“Sick ’em, Butch!” Cue the ferocious barking mix tape.
But he didn’t deserve a response, and Nora needed attending.
Seriously, those two asshat solictors are so lucky I don’t own hand gun.