This is how my Tuesday began:
I push off the covers and sit up. Have no idea of the time but the full moon is on the left side of the window which means it’s before 5 a.m. (yes, I use my bedroom window as some kind of lunar clock….doesn’t everybody?).
I don’t feel well and rush out to the bathroom which is about 5 ft from my door.
Simple enough movement
Your balance lets you down and you manage a sideways cartwheel veering left and down the stairs (stone).
Legs go over my head as I roll down.
-Do I call out to my husband? I decide not. His laughter at seeing me halfway down the stairs in an unladylike pose will wake up the village. Also, I still need to pee. Also, I now think I need to vomit. Even more also, I might need to….. I remember thinking ‘if only there was a sink 1/2 foot away from the toilet and then I could manage all evacuations without having to clear up any spillages’
The sheer potential shame of one of the (elder) kids coming out and seeing me and my bodily fluids all about the stairs gives me some strength and I CRAWL back up and into the bathroom.
-‘do I sit on the loo or lean over it?’ – when I ask myself this question, I think ‘which one would i prefer to clean up?’ – so I lean a bit and then sit.
I said SIT.
At this point, I’m not feeling my best so think the sensible idea is to get back into bed.
Except, the next thing I know, I am looking up at landing skylight and wondering why my husband is calling me and trying to lift me up.
‘my face feels weird’
‘love, what are you doing on the landing floor? I heard a crash. I thought that the roof had fallen in,’ (this said with a French accent).
Even in my concussed state, I remember thinking ‘Hey! I’m not THAT heavy!’
To faint, mid walk is not good for your brain. It is also not good for the box of tiles that my head hit on the way down – a novel way of cutting tiles but not very precise.
We saw the doctor who said ‘mon Dieu’ and laughed. This was the preferred reaction. We were worried that due to the previous Adventures (Delusions) of the Prodigal, she, the dr., might actually think it is the Husband bashing his wife and step son and sirens would soon arrive at the surgery.
So, moving on (almost):
WHEN I get out of bed, I have to shuffle because of sore everything, whilst skimming the wall in case I fall over as I’m now suffering vertigo.
This means that I can’t do much (no driving, cooking, cleaning, shouting – yep, it hurts when I shout)
This means that the Husband will have to do much whilst fussing over an invalided wife.
This means that the wall (garden, see previous
moans blogs) will not be built.
This means, that luckily the Husband has another week of the Face and Lips at school before half term so hopefully I will be recovered to take back the domestic responsibility? Well, it would
a note posted on the school wall yesterday says ‘the teacher has fecked off. So those families who can keep their children at home (that’s only us) next week, should do so’ – a two week vacances begins a week early. How nice!
I would have laughed but it hurts.
Ok Blog, I actually had loads more to write (about the Adventures of the Prodigal; FAtty’s potty training and the Gourmande Lidl Supermaket dog (these are connected); the attendants to my sick bed (the black bitch twins but one is there only to root out and much nicorette packages) but as my head is a bit turny, I shall say au revoir.
People out there – it’s true what your mum says about stairs. They ARE dangerous.
p.s. did I mention the little bit of rose, that I had drunk some hours before I had my descending cartwheel? Non? oh, probably not connected then.
Edit? you know the score. Someone do it for me.