Now that we think we have it fixed...

it may be said.

Delia received an email (on a Sunday) from the Admissions office of her college--the college she was going to move to in a mere week and a half--that said that her transcript showed she was short half a Social Studies credit and therefore would not be allowed to start college. 'Please call tomorrow to discuss.'

Note, they have had her transcript since June. They had accepted our money. They had accepted a scholarship check from our church. We had taken out loans and withdrawn from her college savings accounts. Yet this was the first we'd heard of it. Secondly, Delia needs to have 3.5 credits to graduate from high school, but the college only required 3 credits. And yet SHE GRADUATED FROM HIGH SCHOOL. Obviously, something was wrong here.

After severe heart palpitations on several people's parts, Delia called the Admissions office the next day. And called and called and called. Finally someone got back to her to clarify: she was missing four hours on her transcript.

Delia's high school advisor was out of the country until yesterday, but today he and Delia determined that he had accidentally shorted her several hours when finalizing the reports for her transcript. The correction was made, and a new transcript was both emailed to admissions and sent out in the mail. The correction is not considered 'official' until the copy is received in the mail.

Delia then sent a follow up email saying, 'Please let me know when you have received the mailed transcript and I'm a student again.'

Hopefully we will get this confirmation BEFORE WE START DRIVING TO THE COLLEGE.

What an unfortunate introduction to college bureaucracy.

Today's schedule

5:40 a.m.: Alarm goes off.

6:40 a.m.: Get into car with Rob and Delia

7:00 a.m.: Drop Rob at hospital for antibody infusion. Drive Delia to another location for a medical appointment.

7:20 a.m.: Delia and I stop for breakfast

8:00 a.m.: Delia has her medical appointment. Receives her prescription for a light box for seasonal affective disorder. Appointment lasts until 8:50 a.m.

9:00 a.m. Drop Delia off at home

9:10 a.m. Drop off prescription for light box at medical supply company

9:30 a.m. Arrive at work. As I work, monitor Rob's progress in the hospital (via phone) and Delia's progress (via email) in trying to get her student status unstuck with her college (see previous entry).

2:45 p.m. Leave work

3:00 p.m. Pick up Rob, who is tired, hungry and rather grumpy. Also irked that they can't take his PICC line out: he is extremely low on platelets and will have to go back into the hospital on Friday and possibly Monday to get some.

3:30 p.m. Arrive home. Rob decides he really really really must have pizza.

4:00 p.m. Arrive at Little Caesar's Pizza and buy something totally grease-laden that he just has to have.

4:30 p.m. Bring pizza home. Rob asks, "Don't you have to pick up the Open Arms delivery on Wednesdays?" Curse a lot. Get back into the car.

4:45 p.m. Arrive at Open Arms and request this week's allotment of food.

5:00 p.m. Arrive home with the food, which Rob and Delia put away.
At this point Rob informs me that Delia is hosting a birthday party for a friend at our house tomorrow night and has invited 30 friends via Facebook. This is the first I have heard of it.

5:10 p.m. Go to Delia's room and ask, in a rather shaky voice, what, exactly, she expects me to do to help with this party. She looks alarmed. "It won't be 30 people! Promise! Maybe two people will show up, and that's just because we texted them. We can serve spaghetti. It'll be easy!"

5:30 p.m. Go out on an additional errand. At this point I decide I deserve dinner out myself, dagnabbit, and so I eat at Chipotle.

7:00 p.m. back home. Make previous entry and this one. Still to come tonight: at 8:15 I'll be flushing Rob's PICC line with heperin (?) to keep his blood from clotting, a ten to twenty minute ritualistic procedure (involving a fair number of steps to ensure sterility). This has to be done at least once every twenty-four hours.

After that, I am probably going to be curling up with a good book. Somehow I doubt I'll get around to doing laundry, washing the dishes or balancing my checkbook. And nobody better disturb me, dammit.

Oh, and also!

I have made my sixteenth Kiva loan to a woman in Rwanda, who will use it to buy foodstuffs to sell in order to help pay her children's school fees.