Though I like to remind myself things could be worse.
I had the audacity to go out with my physio girls for dinner (post to come, I wont sully that fun with today's gripe) and now am being punished by my puritanical body. If I'm honest I was on the down slope pre-dinner and if it wasn't for the joy of seeing my ladies, I would normally have stayed home and crawled up in a ball to die slowly under my doona. But, sometimes it's just worth the post-fun hijinks.
The past day and a half has been unpleasant to say the least. Stuck in bed with barely enough energy or wherewithall to be peeved that I was stuck in bed. Well if I'm truthful I am still in bed. But as I'm sitting up, have scoured the sickly sludge off my body, and have managed to resist the siren call of my pjs, I feel technically, I can finally be classed as up and about.
Really bed is the only place to be if you can't reach triple digits in your bp. I tried. I really did. But swearing at my blood vessels and threatening them with all sorts of nastiness just didn't seem to work. I also tried to be positive. I repeated "I think I can. I think I can" ad nauseum, but that also proved about as useful as a tube of SPF 30 on the surface of the sun. I was proud to get to a decent 92/41 by about 9pm last night, thanks of course to my Uri Geller spoon bending and healing powers of positivity. If I could've stood up, I would have danced for joy.
Haven't eaten a great deal since Friday night. Still not hungry and just a tad nauseous, so the occasional nibble of something salt laced is probably about it for now. I am hoping this lack of intake will aid my plans to decrease the size of my ever increasing rear end. Hell, it has to work better than my regular method of LMAO, which is simply not working and frankly I am beginning to feel like a liar every time I type those four letters.
Note to self: do not comment or message anyone whilst in this state of uselessness. Messages may be incoherent at best, or come out the wrong way entirely. I've heard this is how wars start. Well that and something about Texas Tea. At the time you think you are exceedingly eloquent and humorous. However, this judgement is being filtered by a brain severely lacking is O2. Really it's the equivalent of drunk dialling, minus all the "I loves yous".
I did manage a shower yesterday, which was a feat in itself. I made it from my bed, to the shower, onto my shower chair, managed to clean off the hideous paint pealing bed funk to a tolerable level, get out, get dressed and make it back to bed without serious incident. This is pretty impressive even on a good day. There have been many a time where I either, didn't make it, fell off my shower chair, or missed it when I sat down. Naked humiliation was avoided (apart from the quick glimpse of pasty marshmallow I caught in the mirror). No new bruises were acquired. Go me. I did manage a minor scalding when I forgot how to use the cold tap, but that is still a good day. I did have one of those errant spouts. I moved left. I moved right. It still found my face. Solution. Give in and put face washer on face, lean head against wall and let the water fall. Much easier than fighting.
(On a good day this is about how successful my showers are)
The rest of the day was spent either comatose or watching episodes of 30 Rock. Kenneth Parcell can get me through many a tough time. 20 minute episodes are good when your brain is mush. Even better if you have seen the episodes before and you don't have to try and follow a plot.
One problem with sleeping so much is you dehydrate, and if you have Bob you dehydrate at light speed. Today I have lips with cracks the size of the San Andreas and there is no lip balm that can fix that quickly. So today's plan is to guzzle enough water to cover today and yesterday. This also means many a pee trip from bed to loo. I think all this to and fro classes as my cardio for the day so no need to break out the Wii. I will now put on my headband, sexy leotard, and Olivia Newton-John's, Physical on loop, to make me really feel like I'm on my way to buns of steel.
I'm hot, and not in the good way. Well I don't actually know if I've ever been hot in the good way. Though I did get called a MILF by some delightful teenagers last year. Does that count as a good or bad thing? I'm still not sure. I do know that I am the bad type of hot at the moment. It's a delightful Winters day here is Aus. Misty rain, soggy world, 8C if we're lucky, and I'm rocking my Summer's best of t-shirt bare feet and rolled up trackie dacks (my attempt at pretending I am cold like normal people). The last three night's I've slept with either a sheet or nothing, whilst Mr Grumpy had the electric blanket on max, the doona up round his ears and lay there shivering. The rest of the house is wearing Arctic thermals, jumpers and thick wool socks and I have heat intolerance up the wazoo. Stupid body temp is higher than usual, and it's always high. If I sweated I'd be lying in a salty pool by now. All in all I guess it helps with our heating bill, especially when I'm home by myself. You know, silver linings and all.
I think I'm going to go with the whole "and on the last day He rested" plan, it is Sunday after all. Saturday was completely misplaced. It is obviously hanging out with my Bedazzler and single socks. I'm thinking about requesting a do-over. Is that possible for a whole day? Let me know.
Miniature Disasters - KT Tunstall, seems somehow fitting.