What a week. My head’s been beating the days away in a thumpy thumpy sinus-rhythm, That Man’s in China, my foot’s decided to get itself an infection that is making me want to toss my cookies, and yet here I am writing. Is it dedication to you, madness, or addiction? Yes. Prepare for a sloppy incoherent roundup of events.
On Friday little A and I went on an adventure to Westmead Childrens’ Hospital! What fun! They have lots of bears there – we could have brought a picnic. Nothing dramatic – just for her 4-year old vaccinations, since she decided to go all floppy, febrile and non-responsive after the 1-year vax. I know she likes to ignore me sometimes, but that was taking it a little far.
It was a blast! We waited in a room, then we waited in another room, then we answered questions, then she went ‘aahhhh’ and poked out her tongue like a little champ. We did blood tests instead of the vaccination (long story – blah blah I’m bored already) and on our way out I saw a WIGGLE IN THE WILD.
It was the Blue one. He was Anthony carrying a guitar, and looked bigger than he looks on my telly. (Amazing. Taller than 2 inches – who’d have thunk it!?). I waved at him initially, since he looked familiar, you know, like an ex-work colleague or something, but out of context so you can’t pin it? You can’t blame me – he was dressed undercover – without his skivvy. Easy mistake. He looks like somebody that I used to know. He waved back, VERY unenthusiastically, with no smiling. Great people skills. Then I realised he is VERY EXTREMELY FAMOUS AND IMPORTANT and did not want to be bothered. On his way to entertain the sick children. Of course.
In other hot news, I haven’t had a drink in 6 days. I should clarify. A drink, containing alcohol. Otherwise I may be close to death, and surprising as it may seem, I AM NOT. It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore. Lime and soda – the drink of the tired and exhausted woman who has lost the will to mix her own drink or put a bottle of wine in the freezer. Sad times.
What else? Oh. We’ve scaled this foot bizzo up a notch and I’m now sucking back 8 antibiotic pills a day to bash this little staph/cellulitis whatever infection on its head, because I’ve already come up with far too many strange and unusual ways to incapacitate myself in the past. Hooking myself up to an IV of non-caffeinated or alcoholic juice does not really float my boat. So drugs, WORK.
Hakuna matata. (I think that means look out for zebras.)