Well, obviously we're
NOT, tragically, going to the National Whitewater Facility after all.
I dislocated my shoulder this morning for almost three hours! What was I even thinking, that I could still do this thing?
I wasn't thinking, that's what. If I hurt it paddling like a crazy man at the NWF, ol' Wifehorn has to drive home, and I am an irresponsible husband. Sometimes I overmisestimate, that's all. Tomorrow, bright and early, we'll be packing and leaving for home. My shoulder is good enough to put an overnight bag in the trunk (boot, in the UK). The only real damage is my broken dreams, sniff, sniff.
I packed waterproof shoes!
Ol' Wifehorn reports a series of very educational classes today, and says she learned what she came here to learn, which is what was precisely defined in the mission statement before we dragged our asses down here. Our projected Agenda was implemented in professional fashion. HealthInsurance'R'Us.
I had the day off, in pain, as y'all know.
The sad life of a trophy husband.
It wasn't all good news - lots of changes, and Aetna is raising prices, which means a lot of clients will need to be moved to other, more affordable plans - but it is what it is. At least we know what's coming.
Numbah One Son has been cat sitting. He's going home tonight, and we'll be there by noon or so tomorrow to feed our kittehs.
Ol' Wifehorn was exhausted after a long day of classes. I went to Chipotle and brought her a salad. That's what insurance trophy husbands do.