When the name of your blog is Old Dog New Tits, you get a lot of crazy comments about your physique. But I guess I brought that on myself, didn’t I? Or Dave did. I can’t remember. We came up with the name more than a year ago over drinks. Many of you know why. If not, click here. But, despite my name, “those” aren’t the two new body parts to which I’m referring today.

The last 48 hours have been dedicated to getting things back to normal around here. With power finally restored, we just returned to our home after yet another hurricane evacuation. If you haven’t already read about it, my boy has been awesome. He and I have been working tirelessly to get everything physically back in place … hauling heavy items out of the shed, across the yard, out of my neighbor’s garage, to the curb, etc. (Thanks to my brother for helping with all of that.) We’ve cleaned everything up inside and out, reassembled and rehung heavy items, trimmed trees and bushes, re-installed hoses, righted basketball goals, sprayed down the siding, etc. etc. etc. When the house alarm battery malfunctioned and began beeping … incessantly, I called ADT to come repair it. The service date they gave me was September 19. So you know what? I did it myself. When the water heater pilot needed lighting … I … okay, well, I didn’t do it myself but I went into the attic with my friend to figure it out. (Thanks to Derek for turning it off and Ray for turning it on. Twice.)

I … was … filthy. I sweat my butt off. And, when we finally broke for lunch at nearly 3, I was starving. As in my stomach hurt and I felt weak. For the first time in ages, I wasn’t just eating because it was noon and there was cheese in the fridge. I actually achieved real hunger by working for it, like our forefathers. I mean the forefathers who had garden hoses, wrought iron patio furniture, fire pits and such.

So the first new body part that I grew in the last 48 hours? A Y chromosome. I think I earned it. (What? Did you think I was going to say penis? … Great. Now, penis is going to show up in the ODNT Google search.) It’s actually nice to know I can do a few things for myself if I have to. But, Dave, as soon as you get home, I’m putting my tiara back on and leaving the house for a pedicure. I am totally serious.

By the time night came, I could have passed out on the floor in the hallway. We were all pretty tired. It was our last night of staying up too late and watching TV (because cable was finally back!) when my son came running in my room with a bleeding hand. See if you can follow this weird story. And remember … there is no bad guy here.

My boy, Dean, just happened to be toting the family cat (Milo) out of his sister’s room. As he was closing the door, he caught Milo’s paw in the door frame. And Milo did what any self-respecting cat would do in this situation. He went nuts. In Dean’s arms. Resulting in a rather deep puncture wound in his right hand. Dean said it really hurt so I did what I always do. The old peroxide and band-aid treatment. Which, because his hand tripled in size overnight, I’m guessing was just not enough.

And, after playing around with the possibility of lancing it myself for about 30 seconds, I came to my senses and called the doctor and we went in. He had a staff infection and needed an immediate injectable antibiotic and some oral stuff for later. He wasn’t happy about the shot but I assured him that being able to make a fist without blinding pain was probably more important. Everything was going smoothly until we reached the pharmacy. I won’t bore you with the details but, suffice it to say, it took nearly two hours for me to convince the powers that be that I do have current insurance and that they would be giving my son his medicine … BEFORE HIS HAND EXPLODED.

So the second new body part that I grew in the last 48 hours? A second row of shark teeth. They are razor sharp and will tear you to ribbons if you try to deny my ailing child his medicine.

What a couple of days. I’m probably going to grow a damned beard with all the testosterone flying through my veins. Here’s looking ahead to a very boring week.