In the middle of all the chaos this week, Marlo had to get her one-year vaccinations. Yes, I realize we're a little late on that. Let's just say that a mythical bobcat kind of got in the way.

As we were sitting in the waiting room, Jon was on his phone looking for cheap mattresses. His brother and sister-in-law came into town for the funeral, and since what used to be the guest bed is now actually Leta's! New! Big! Bed! (shut up, she started it, and now we can't refer to it as anything else or she has no idea what we're talking about, not even if you scream THAT DAMN THING YOU SLEEP IN) we needed to find some accommodations for guests really quickly, and I'm not about to have an in-law of mine sleep on the regurgitated-graham cracker-covered sofa. Not when my mother-in-law could possibly ever find out. Because then I wouldn't just look homeless, I would actually be living like I was homeless. She doesn't need more ammo.

And it was right then that I remembered reading a link off of Kottke's site about how there's a theory that cancer can be linked to the coils in mattresses. And Jon is all shut up, dude, you are making this up, and I was like, I'M QUOTING SOMETHING OFF OF KOTTKE.ORG. That's like saying Abraham Lincoln used to spit on babies and grab his crotch in public just to frighten old ladies.

How could you even suggest such a thing.

I'd only read the excerpt on Jason's website, not the entire article on Scientific American, but Jon just had to go the source because he's old school like that. I heard everyone born before the invention of bread does this.

And suddenly he goes off on this tangent about something tech and science related, I couldn't really tell you what he was saying because it sounded like WAHK WAHK WAHK, and because I didn't know where he was going with this I stopped him and asked, so this is something you read from a link off of Kottke?

And he was like, dude. I'm old school. I WAS BORN BEFORE THE INVENTION OF BREAD, YO. I DON'T NEED NO KOTTKE TO KNOW THIS HERE SHIT.

And then twenty minutes later while we were waiting for the nurse to come into the examination room with all six of the vaccinations he turned to me and said, "This is how we justify what is about to happen in here: Marlo has put us through so much bullshit that she owes us a few tears."

Why that made me feel better about someone else stabbing my child, I couldn't tell you. Maybe because he was still talking like a gangsta.

BUT GET THIS.

(I think every blog post from now on is going to include the previous sentence.)

Turns out that Kottke posted an update slash kind-of-retraction about that whole mattresses cause cancer thing later that day, and suddenly I don't know what to believe anymore! It's like I just found out there is no Santa Claus. Or worse! That Abe really was a crotch-grabber. THANKS, JASON.

This is beginning to sound like a broken record, I know, but the last several days of our lives have been nothing but a tidal wave of heartbreaking chaos. Jon's sister-in-law died on the morning of his birthday, this following a night that had ended in a pretty ugly display of ineptitude in parenthood on my part, one that I'm not sure I can forgive myself for.

Marlo isn't sleeping, and yesterday we had a bit of a medical emergency with Leta, only to get a flat tire on the way home. This morning I woke up at 2 AM to the smell of poop, couldn't get back to sleep, and then when Marlo woke up at 5 we discovered another pool of canine diarrhea, this time all over the inside of Coco's crate.

The next few days are going to be consumed with family obligations, and sadly this will be the fourth funeral of a close family member we've attended in the last nine months.

I can't really find anything profound or funny to say right now, only that as Jon was changing the flat tire I had to arch my back so that my face was facing the sky directly. And then I shouted, PLEASE, LIFE. LET US CATCH OUR BREATH.