Well I think most of you know by now that I’m never one to be too jealous, but these adventures Birdman and Chin are having are making me very envious. Not because I like driving for ungodly amounts of time, listening to boring Shearer stories or smelling disgusting body odours. No, friends…I am envious of the time spent with a good friend on the wide-open road. The last time I went road-tripping with the Birdman, I had the best vacation of my life. I know that even though they are heading into a horrible work schedule that most men could not handle, they are having a hell of a good time getting there. 🙂
I however, am still here, and fighting the good fight at the homestead. Two nights of crazy dreams have left me somewhat unkept in appearance and dull in intelligence, but I keep plugging away.
Last night while I was
feeling sorry for myself watching cool movies alone in my bed, I got a call from my Momala. She, being somewhat hopped up on whatever the hospital had administered, proceeded to tell me about how she fell down the stairs at the CUPE conference and now is the proud owner of a busted foot and some sprained ankles. She assured me all was well, and she would return today with her trusty friend Wayne at the wheel, bringing her home safely. This morning, I could hear a much lower pain threshold (no thanks to you, time-released morphine) in her voice, and a true readiness to be recuperating in her own home.
My sister and I picked her up in Cobourg and brought her home, where she is now resting comfortably. I was given the job of filling the percoset prescription, and grabbing a couple of groceries for her while my sister delivered her safely to her abode. On my way back to her place, I had a few moments of sheer terror as i realized that I did not know exactly where I had placed the percocet, and that I had no actual recollection of even taking them out of the cart and putting them into the van. My eldest had returned the cart, so i didn’t even know if I had actually taken them at all. THE HORROR. I had some serious sweats, imagining the call I was going to have to make to the pharmacist:
ME (in my sweetest voice): “OH, hi there….I was just in to fill a prescription for my mom for some percocet. Unfortunately, I have carelessly left all of them in the grocery shopping cart, clearly labelled for the next lucky customer to find and sell on the black market. Any chance I could get you to fill that silly script again? Hmmmm? Pretty please?”
Pharmacist: “RIIIIIGGGGHHHHT. I’ll get right on that. *click*”
I am fairly certain that much laughter would ensue as the pharmacist shared that little exchange with the rest of the crew.
Luckily, after I frantically ripped through the back of the van, the prescription was found and all was well.
While I was putting groceries away at my moms, my kids were busy regaling her with stories of some mysterious itchy bumps on their legs and torso. It was determined that the offending bumps might be (GASP!) flea bites. We actually do not have any pets, but the girls come into frequent contact with other peoples pets, so it’s certainly possible. What the girls did not realize, is that discovering that one’s room may be inhabited by fleas means several hours spent washing bedding, bagging stuffed animals and pillows, and a full cleanup of said environment. Those girls cleaned that place until it sparkled, tossing out bags of garbage, and filling a full recycling bag of gently used toys to be donated to children. HA! I’m betting the next time they find unexplained, itchy bumps, they keep that news to themselves. 🙂
As I mentioned earlier, the last two nights have been plagued by feverish dreams, mostly with themes of abandonment, loss and sexual perversion. The last one isn’t necessarily an unwelcome diversion, but the first two are a direct result of my empty bed situation. In what I consider to be a Psychiatry 101 Example of Unwanted Separation Manifested in the Dream State, the beautiful centre diamond from my engagement ring fell out and broke in half. I spent most of the dream sobbing and feeling angry at the jeweller (sorry Larry!) for not creating a ring setting worthy of such a beautiful stone. I know that to me, my engagement ring represents the pure, true and beautiful love the Birdman and I share, so if my subconscious is trying to screw with my conscious, that’s the perfect way to do it. Score one for the ID, I guess.
Anyway, I truly hope my head gets used to sleeping alone soon. I don’t know how many nights I can stand such complicated and emotionally draining nightmares. I can, however, get used to a few more nights with the entire cast of Glee. Don’t judge me…I have a thing for the underdogs, gays and emotionally unstable.
You can run, but you can’t hide,