On Tuesday I was poorly again. I came home from work feeling cold and shivery. I had an early night but was awake again at 3 am with the most awful headache. I staggered downstairs and took painkillers. I might as well have taken vomit pills. I spent the next six hours throwing up. I was sweating one minute and shivering the next.
Just before I passed out, a sweaty vomit covered wreck, spouse yelled out ” get out of bed and go to work you lazy bitch”. How pleasant. I like to think he was joking, but these days I am not too sure.
These sick days are getting too frequent. Am I too old?
Venturing downstairs much much later in the day I saw three empty packets of food on the side. A cunning message from number one daughter to say the cats had been fed.
They did do their best to convince me otherwise. So convincing were they I even had to message her to check.
So last weekend when I was on my own I had another heart attack/indigestion moment. I was laying in bed when the pains kicked in and the thought occurred to me that if I died I would not be found for some time. Spouse and number two daughter in Guyana, number one son in Derby, number one daughter away for the weekend at a wedding. This was Saturday night, daughter not due back until Monday evening. By then my three cats would be hungry and looking for food. I wondered which one would eat me first. My money is on this one…
She is angry when her food is five minutes late, never mind 36 hours. She might not even wait until I was properly dead.
However, as you can see I am still here so it was obviously indigestion. I just can’t stop thinking that the autopsy report would read, ” eaten by cats”.
So the wanderers have returned full of rum and tales of derring do. My spouse and number two daughter brought with them souvenirs, mosquito bites and two cases full of washing. They were as unimpressed with my tasks that I completed in their absence as I am by their tans and pictures.
I have gone from one person in the house to six. Not only have the travellers come back but so has number one son. It seems crowded.
Number one daughter is looking for a house with boyfriend. She jokingly said I could live in a granny flat with her. I rejected the idea at first but the more I think about it, the more I like it. The concept is that I clean, shop and cook in return for bed and board. Not so much an aupair as an oldpair. Any children that happen along I would do daycare. I think the idea of mother living with you is undesirable but a housekeeper who lives in an attached but completely separate dwelling, that is food for thought.
This weekend I have been home alone and loved it. I must say these last ten days while my spouse has been away have been great. I eat what I want, watch what I want on TV, have a double bed all to myself. And its so quiet. So, this weekend number one daughter went to a wedding, number two daughter is in Guyana with her father and number one son is in Derby at university. It was strange waking up to an empty house but I was suddenly galvanised into action. I whizzed through the housework. Bit easier than usual as the house was tidy to begin with and I had a lot less washing to do.
The doorbell has not worked for some time so it was off to B&Q for a new one. On a whim I also bought bedding for the hanging baskets. Once home I installed the doorbell. I began to plant the hanging baskets but realised I did not have enough compost. So it was back out to B&Q to get some. The gardening did not stop there as I mowed the lawn. Believe it or not I have never mowed the lawn before and I managed reasonably well.
Here is my handiwork. Here are the things himself he will say when he returns with the answers I shall give him. The cut of the lawn is rubbish. True its not the neatest lawn I have ever seen but it IS cut. The doorbell is wonky. True, but it works and no-one has been electrocuted. Wrong plants in the hanging baskets. I disagree, they will be beautiful.
What will scare him the most is how well I can do without him. Doesn’t scare me.
I have not blogged for some time and sadly I am unable to tell you the reason why. It is an ongoing situation which may involve a court case. I plan to reveal all when it is over.
Meanwhile, I have been on Easter Holidays. I love the holidays, why else work in a school?
I have worked on the miniature village. What a loser I am, a miniature village in the back garden. I have even ordered a plastic train set and lighting. Still, there are worse things to spend money on. I planted eight new rockery plants, two lights, and tidied up a bit.
I went to Specsavers as both glasses are broken. I have readers and distance. They get broken a lot, occupational hazard. Anyway, it appears my eyes have improved so I duly ordered more frames, hopefully more robust. They were due to be ready last Friday. I got a phone call saying only one pair would be ready but I thought might as well pick those up. When I got there, both pairs were ready. I thought “great” however, both pairs were distance. I pointed this out and the lady said it would cost £35 to put it right. I said no it won’t as it was mis ordered. Eventually she agreed with me and said they would make up the readers onsite. It would take an hour. I had already done everything I needed to in Town so I said I would be back the next day (yesterday) then I got a phone call saying they had broken the glasses and now would have to order them again. I am not impressed at all! Boots next time.
But the best news of all, I save until last. Spouse has flown off to Guyana. True, it’s only for two weeks, but, oh the bliss. Eating what I want, doing what I want, having the control of the TV remote! And, of course, the double bed all to me. On the first night I laid right in the middle. The next morning I awoke balanced on the edge. Some habits are hard to break.
I am ill, of course I am ill, its half term. What is it you do in school holidays? You get the car serviced, get your eyes tested, take the cats to the vet, get your teeth fixed and go to the doctor.
As in previous occasions, I got sick, and ignored it. This was on the premise that, if spurned it would of course go away. This is an excellent theory, which sadly rarely works.
So it came to pass that I woke up on the first days of the holidays to a sound similar a cross between a blocked drain and a drowning mouse. I held my breath, the sound stopped. Once I started breathing again I realised the sound was my clogged lungs attempting to inhale oxygen.
So, after taking the car to the garage, and booking the cats in for their annual veterinary pilgrimage, I sallied forth to the medical centre.
After listening to my rattling emissions, a chest infection was diagnosed and a prized prescription pressed into my hot little hand. Given that my job is in a special school, and as such I came into more than my fair share of bodily fluids, I asked the doctor if there was any way I could boost my immune system.
Sadly, the only advice she could give me was plenty of fruit and veg and exercise. This was not what I wanted to hear. Where was the miracle, overpriced elixir which would prevent me from suffering from viral infection? She also waxed lyrical about scrupulous hygiene and hand washing but I had already stopped listening.
We all know the road to hell is paved with good intentions and so I will start next term. I will walk to school, have fruit for lunch and drink gallons of water. And gradually I will tail off and by the Easter holidays I will be back in her waiting room.
As an aside, the car cost £200 and the cats are in rude health. Maybe I should eat lamb in jelly and poo in the garden?