My mad life. The stuff we are supposed to leave at the door. With humour.
In the last 8 weeks I have discovered I am in the menopause, I have cysts in my breast, infection under my brain and a myriad of highly inconvenient other infections and no immune system to fight them- so I have had to stop most of my meds and I am shit scared of the fact that they are operating in my head next year, not worried about dying…I wouldn’t really know any better, but shit scared that they might accidentally mash something that will mean I spend the rest of my life with a pudding bowl haircut and needing someone to wipe my arse. So I have perhaps been a tad highly strung.
Factor into this ISIS and the blowing up of all manner of things that aren’t remotely political and need to spend many hours in the sky on planes in the next two months- pass me the wine…. And having a husband who served in an active theatre of war in 2003- Iraq -who wants to don camoflauge pants and equip himself with a Kalashnikov and solve the entire worlds problems with terrorism…on the days where he isn’t in denial about PTSD…
I went to pick Ellen up from work at 10pm on Tuesday night and parked in the light near the door- the car next to me contained a rather large burly man with a rather interesting display of tatts and many had gang affiliations. He got out of his car and seemed to be taking a rather uneccessary interest in mine, I didn’t want to be obvious and drive off…so I merely put the automatic lock on, and then made a complete show of myself trying to get it unlocked when Ellen arrived at the passenger door. I now realise he wasn’t after my cellphone, purse…etc etc he was merely admiring the art work on my bonnet. A creative student had drawn a two foot penis on it.
I try my best to turn up to work with matching shoes, a bit of lippy now and then and a smile, but last week I had run out of spoons. In an ideal world I should have taken a day off and read a book in the sunshine.