by MustBTVDay twenty-four of furlough. I woke at 0630, ready for another round of caffeine and chaos. Breakfast was Starbucks, as always, the one constant in an otherwise unpredictable schedule. I took my first sip with optimism. That feeling didn’t last long.
Today’s main event was Amy’s doctor appointment, which rapidly devolved into a test of patience, diplomacy, and blood pressure control. We arrived fifteen minutes early like responsible adults. They called us back at 12:30, and then proceeded to do… nothing. By 1:30, after sixty full minutes of sitting in an exam room that could double as a sensory deprivation chamber, I had reached my limit. Words were exchanged. Calm, measured words, but sharp enough to leave a mark. The kind that say “I pay taxes and my coffee’s wearing off.”
Needless to say, cowboy boots and hats were postponed. I didn’t have the energy to browse leather and straw after a bureaucratic hostage situation. The Family CFO agreed this was the wiser call, though I caught a faint look that said, “You’re lucky you didn’t get arrested.”
At noon, I had a meeting with the crew I’ll eventually be in charge of, trying to maintain camaraderie during the chaos. It was equal parts reunion and therapy session. Everyone’s ready to get back to normal, whatever that even means anymore.
Remington spent the afternoon napping in solidarity, occasionally sighing as if to say, “Yeah, doctors are the worst.” Mittens remained indifferent to our ordeal, while Tabby commandeered the laundry basket like she’s declaring her own version of independence.
Morale check: slightly dented but intact. Coffee steady, leadership meetings productive, and one medical office forever on notice. The Living Room Republic endures, fueled by caffeine, camaraderie, and justified indignation.
