A gorgeous day.
We lunched at my friend Michelle’s place.
Michelle is the aid I work with – she is teh awesomez.
and her hubby D is building the deck.
So I was Very pleased to visit their house and see D’s handiwork – he is an amazing builder: their house is a brilliant re-model of a post-war timber house.
The kids played with their kids while Michelle and I caught up having not seen each other for over a week.
But then I went to leave and the world started to spin and I thought I’d either fall down or throw up or both.
I made it to the lounge chair and sat down … and was OK within minutes.
So I got up again to leave and made it to the car and felt hot and dizzy and nauseous again … and Michelle decided that i shouldn’t drive home so she drove my car and D and their kids followed us back to our house (actually, D beat us because I couldn’t think of the quickest way to get there and he’s done the run between houses for a few days now).
…I thanked them and apologised again and again until Michelle told me she’d slap me if I said “sorry” again.
I crawled upstairs, turned the tv on for the kids and went to bed …. only to be woken up within 20 minutes by the folk partying (hard – at 4:30 pm) at the back.
You remember those parties that their daughter would have while her parents were away?
Well …. her parents were away.
I pulled myself together long enough to get the kids bathed and fed and into bed and then had to prize my eyes open whilst waiting for clearance for The Bunny.
Finally got to bed and realised that the party had turned into some sort of non-stop drinking-song football hooligan choir with 5 non-stop hours of delights such as “chug, chug, chugchugchug” and “drink, drink, drink it down” and I believe something that went along the lines of “fuck, fuck, what the fuck”.
Every word shouted by 20-something blokes with surprisingly loud voices.
At 11pm, I gave up and crawled into H’s bed at the other end of the house.
After a while I realised that the noise had abated … or been muffled somehow (praise Santa) and finally at midnight I crawled into our bed and slept. Any other night and I would have been OK, but the fainty dizzy spell thing had made me feel Very tired and a little bit vomitous and all I wanted to do was sleep.
I was tired and grumpy Sunday morning and let the kids eat whatever they found on the floor for breakfast … not quite so evil as it sounds as the floor had a fairly good covering of eggs (in wrappers and the floor had been mopped the previous morning).
Then I dragged
myself behind the kids who were eager to go us all to church where I maintained my non-participation role whilst allowing the kids to experience the religious service. Which was surprisingly good, from the children’s story to the sermon (if only I believed any of it).
But the irony of the choir singing “death hath lost its sting” really got me though. It’s complete bollocks.
On the up side, I don’t’ cry in church anymore – nothing seems to touch the sides. I can love all the beautiful people there and let the message wash over me without analysing it or getting upset. Progress!
So, we did it….
… we got through another awful holiday without you.
I was cranky and mad and sad, but I didn’t permanently disfigure anyone or yell obscenities in the street so I count that as a win.
Hopefully, there isn’t a rugby team drinking in the backyard tonight and I will wake up in a better mood tomorrow.
I miss you.
I love you.