So, That Man’s in China again. Every time he says he’s going on another trip, I get worried. Aren’t I sweet? No, not really. More self-preserving. In China, bad things happen. In Sydney.
This is what happened last trip. The trip before? Was weirdly isolating. I somehow managed not to speak to a single adult for about 7 days, and have strangely never felt so lonely in my life. It’s times like that I hate living in a big city like Sydney. To be so surrounded by people, seeing them, driving amongst them, yet feeling completely alone. I tooted some of them in case I had accidentally turned invisible. I had not.
My friend even has a code-word for me needing her to drop everything and come. I just need to tell her ‘I’m in China’, and she knows that’s a Code Red. That I’m going loco inside my brain and need adult conversation, company, or alcohol intervention (adding, not subtracting), STAT. Thank God for these friends, and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to them!
This time, I’m prepared. My preparation went like this. Shop for easily preparable meals. Make no social engagements. Plan to sleep early and a lot. Place no undue pressure on myself or the kids. Get to the gym to clear my head and for energy. Eat healthily. Sleep some more.
The reality? Sunday night, my gorgeous dog Herbie went… strange. He is my constant shadow, so being clingy was normal, but then to sleep in the girls’ bedroom instead of mine? Unheard of. Still, it made Little L happy so I let it lie. Like a sleeping dog, so to speak. *Cough* (sorry). Did the 10pm blood glucose fingerprick on Little L. Did the 3 am fingerprick on Little L. Happily a straightforward night. But at 4, I hear her yelling. Herbie is wailing and yelping, and he’s all glassy-eyed and twitchy. He’s also completely floppy when I try to make him stand, and a dead weight. He doesn’t appear to recognise me. He’s 9, and I think something’s happened, like a stroke, and that maybe the end is on its way. So I grab some blankets and wrap him up since he seems really cold and shivery. At 5 Little A yells out with a nightmare. I crawl under the blankets on the floor with Herbie between the girls’ beds and sleep there for an hour. Wake up feeling 500 years old. My hips don’t lie, like Shakira’s, and are no longer built for floor sleeping. Looking in the mirror, I see the zombie apocalypse was also part of that night’s adventures. I am HOT. Like only the walking dead can be.
Thankfully, I think, Herbie had a seizure. He has recovered fully. Perhaps it’s old age, or a slow-growing tumour. Time will tell whether it’s isolated or the onset of doggy epilepsy. I paid the vet some LOVELY MONEY! Cos she was nice, and I like to give people MONEY WHEN IT’S CHINA. Then, the toilet decided to keep running. Running, and running and running. But not flush. How fun! We can go and use the one outside in 10 degrees and pouring rain in the laundry! Oh, WOOPS! Little A forgot and dropped a chocolate submarine in the toilet! What fun!! Let’s just pour some buckets of water down there, shall we, while we find a plumber? Cos we LOVE to spend money when it’s China.
Today, I found that everything in the laundry has stopped working. Oh, the boring mundanity of EVERYTHING BREAKING AND STOPPING WORKING! The fridge is defrosting, the washing machine won’t turn on, (which is fine because I’M ABOUT TO BUILD AN ARK ANYWAY), and nor will the dryer. Fuses, obviously. Because I know about all this stuff, and it’s probably caused by the terrible weather, which is also likely a pre-warning of the real zombie apocalypse, because CHINA. Shall we find an electrician? To spend SOME MORE CHINA MONEY? Ah, no. My lovely dad will come to the rescue. LOVE dads. I am also pleased I can turn my freezer back on and don’t have to eat a leg of lamb, 3 kgs of frozen chicken and 10 sausages all by tomorrow night. I would have been quite full.
Some things are working in my RIDICULOUS plan for China week. I am going to the gym. It’s keeping me SO CALM! Can’t you tell? Sleeping? Is not working out at all. That one is in the bin. I plan to get payback and ask for 3 sleep-through-the nights in a row when That Man gets home. I’m not spending enough time with the girls, enough time cooking great meals, enough time keeping my house tidy, enough time washing clothes, enough time being any kind of functioning blogger, and just a little bit of time doing everything badly. I can’t blame myself though. I haven’t the spare time or cash to do so, because somehow, someway, blaming myself would likely end up costing MONEY.
I blame China.*
[*Please, also, if you are China and you are reading this, please don't take this personally. I'm just having a less than optimal week. I'm very fond of your imported goods, electronic equipment, and iPad covers. Please send That Man back in one piece. Preferably toting Duty Free alcohol.]