Archive for the ‘The Blogger’ Category

dead or alive

Saturday, August 14th, 2010

You lie awake in bed in the early hours of the morning wondering if your husband is still alive.  You heard him make a noise (it woke you up, giving you the excuse you needed to have a wee and play with your pussy; it saves the house from being shredded by his young claws) and since then you haven’t heard a peep from him.

The complete lack of movement worries you too.  The noiselessness is okay as you wear earplugs (a habit from a long-ago time when he snored so loudly it was like kipping in an aeroplane engine) so any noise has to be fairly loud to make you notice it.  But he should be twitching or fidgeting, and he isn’t.  This starts to panic you, and the panic causes you to tense up making your head ache painfully.  You can’t physically move as you imagine that the noise that woke you was his dying breath.

Why aren’t you moving?

You know that you can easily prod him, but he’s only sleeping and you don’t want to wake him up just to tell him you thought he was dead.  What happens if you prod him and nothing happens?  Who is the house insured with?

Random thoughts.

You start to write a blog post in your head.  You do this a lot when you’re unable to sleep, and mostly these blog posts never meet the World Wide Web as they become forgotten amongst hazy dreams and the cold light of day.  In your ‘i wanna sleep’ state you ‘write’ sentences such as, you get up and write a semi-naked blog post and, you played with your pussy.

The latter probably lacks something … maturity?

Eventually you can lick your lips and move your legs.  Slightly later you feel a twitch.  A minute or so after that he starts to scratch. 

Phew!

You stop worrying about things like insurance, and instead you make a cup of tea, take a couple of painkillers (free from the NHS, just like the garden shed) and log onto the Internet to write a semi-naked blog post.  Later you will leave your husband at the hospital and have no idea when he’ll be back home.

Sucks to be you, eh?

Welcome home, Oompf!

Sunday, May 16th, 2010

Oompf buggered off to fairer shores. It was April, after all. But ’tis now May and Oompf has returned (yesterday, about noon-time).

The last two months have been a whirlwind of psychology assignments, veritable queasiness at work (I still have a job for September; it’s not the same job though,) and kidley mayhem.

Peritoneal dialysis failed. Blokey went to hospital and had tubes removed. New tubes were inserted. Blokey went back onto PD two weeks ago. It isn’t working very well … again.

*sigh*

I have been exhausted, to the extent that I actually have to fight my body/brain in order to function normally. This is a culmination of April and lack of sleep through worrisomeness about everything. The exhaustion seems to have subsided this weekend, although I don’t hold out much hope if the PD continues to cause Blokey troubled nights; he grumbles, I wake. Tsk.

Still, I have my Wii. It tells me I lost 5lb in a week. I know this to be a lie (at least, WeightWatchers don’t agree with Wii) but it makes me happy and so Wii can live cosily in the lounge.

Does anybody needs any boxes? I am the Cardboard Queen … (gah! bloody home dialysis!)

I’ve been watching the tellybox a lot recently. Ashes to Ashes is my (nearly) all-time favourite tellybox show and I suspect it’s going to have a far better/poignant/tissue-needing ending than Lost, which is also my (nearly) all-time favourite tellybox show. As for my (absolute) all-time favourite tellybox show, I really really really want to bop Roxy over the head with her bank balance.

We lost three fish from our aquarium. One week they were there, the following week they’d disappeared. Either the enormous Molly ate them, or they were abducted by alien fish. I’m hedging my bets on the latter, simply because it sounds more exciting. We replaced them with six Tetras which sparkle beautifully in the light. I’m just waiting for the enormous Molly to munch on them …

So, here’s to the next two months … *raises glass of cheap French plonk*

happy new year?

Thursday, December 31st, 2009

I’m not a fan of New Year celebrations. Noises, crowds, good cheer … yikes! Give me a token amount of alcohol and something good to watch on the tellybox and I’ll gladly leave others to have fun on my behalf.

After all, next year is just going to be another lousy year …

Happy New Year!

Christmas Day

Friday, December 25th, 2009

My husband is fast asleep on the settee. I’m not sure if he’s suffering from restless leg syndrome or just letting his foot jig along to the music I’m subjecting his drooling state to.

(Robbie Williams, if you’re interested.)

I had no intention of writing a post on Christmas Day itself, but we’re being lazy (in preparation for two consecutive days of familial mayhem, which will begin with a visit to dialysis at 6.30 in the morning) and EastEnders doesn’t start for another twenty or so minutes.

I was a tad irked earlier in the week, but that simply serves me right for allowing myself to read the ridiculous views of ridiculous people on Have Your Say (which can be found on the BBC website, somewhere.) I love Christmas. I love buying and receiving presents. I love watching other people open presents. I love clapping my hands in excitement and giggling like a child. The anticipation and exhilaration that Christmas brings is a truly fabulous feeling, despite the fact that it doesn’t last long. I spend Christmas Eve wanting to desperately open my presents, and Christmas Day putting it off as long as possible.

And I hate (or maybe not quite, but pretty close) those people who spout forth with silly things about giving their money to charity to save the world by not buying cards, or who give vouchers or money, or who proclaim that some adults are childish for expecting presents when presents should only be for children.

Sheesh folks! Who took your sense of wonder and stamped on it?

I have nothing else to say. The Champagne is making me sleepy.

Merry Christmas!