Charlie had a major panic attack at 2.30am after one of those nice easy-going days -- the eternal autismland conundrum of happy times chased, very quickly, by distress that mushrooms into something else very fast -- and only got to sleep around 7am, after a trip to the ER and a big clean-up of his room and the hallway (which is now far cleaner than it was at the start of the weekend -- not a bad thing).
Then I read about this happening in the parking deck I never park in at work.
"Interesting times" is a euphemism but it is apt.
Update at 4.30 pm -- after an interchange between Jim and me regarding whether the band aids I was dispatched to procur actually had adhesive or not (they didn't but were, as Jim pointed out after trying to put one over the large bump on Charlie's forehead, pads; I protested it was the neosporin I had slathered on Charlie's forehead per the ER doctor) and the glad producing of another box I had bought that were, per the box, actual large-sized band aids with adhesive galore, and a trivia moment about how a very old acquaintance of Jim's once had a job testing band aids on dogs -- a very good 16 mile bike ride because (the boxer reference is intended!) while we can be down around here we are not out.