I have death-defying tonight, my once-a-week in the community thing I decided to do as an extended middle finger to the spectre of Death, who may or may not eventually claim me as his own depending on how cybernetic and medical technology progresses. Only before I leave home I have to endure a ghastly bout of cycling on the TPC, an arse-numbing reign of terror that is an exercise bike born and bred (then loaned to us as Mikey don't walk no more) by Casso, the original Learnaean Hydra.
As the great game Dune 2000 famously says 'construction complete'. I have done this.
It was pretty cold out in the shed. I even wore a jumper for the first ten minutes. It took longer too to reach my minimum kill bot limit of 5.9 kays as I was wretched tired and was suffering non-PAG, the unpleasant roil of gas and spasming intestines that can result post bowel movement.
So despite having performed actual exercise I am still tired enough to lie down and maybe even go back to sleep. It's not surprising I'm tired. For the past few days I've naturally woken either at dawn, or before it, no matter how late I went to bed. I think my body is angered or something, like an island volcano. It wants appeasement, the lie down then the equiv of a proffered virgin to calm the rumbling fire cone.
Argh! (weakly shakes fist at life)
theBoy comes in to see me most mornings after seven. Usually he wants stories. I'm already awake, just lying enfeebled having seen dawn arrive through the split in the curtains. So I stay rugged and listlessly contribute as he dances back and forth in the near dark fully-engaged in our shared tale. Yesterday, though, I dialled up the Play school website, theWife having shown theBoy its goodness on the desktop, and we just snuggled up together and played our way through every activity screen. It was nice! But alas also a getting ready to go impediment since he'd far rather do that than go get clothes on, have breakfast etc.
My guts are firing again. Now I have to get up and go visit the toilet lest I attempt a fart that comes out sh instead of f.
(whimpers)
UPDATE: I wrote this this morning via the tablet whilst in bed. But then didn't publish it. So imagine I'm in bed ... and I'm waiting for your call... (1)
(1) Mobiles cost extra.
HM, read the Good Weekend in the weekend SMH or The Age (remember you read one of the broadsheets, can't remember which).. there's this article about eels, and what happens to them whilst they go on their 3000km journey:
ReplyDelete"They will swim 3000 kilometers or more without eating, their digestive tract will atrophy, their anal orifice will close and their eyes will expand to four times their normal size (which you might well expect to happen if your anus dies on you)"..
for whatever reason I thought of you, and was secretly glad that you were not an eel, did not have to swim 3000km, and even though you have slow motility in the digetive department that your anus isn't about to close off and stop all action. Though I secretly want to ask, do your eyes expand up to 4 times their size when you're having some issues in the not going to the toilet department? (meant in a non-creepy, nice way) :)
Wow, I totally do not remember seeing that --- and I am an almost obsessive Weekend reader of the hard copy of the SMH Saturday paper.
ReplyDeleteI too am glad I am not an eel. The irony is that my family's DNA has within it a trait that can best be described as "boggle eyes". Yes, we have Boggly eyes. It's the dhadow over Innsmouth all over again...
GametesRhyme, I LOLed when I read your post!
ReplyDeleteglad I can be of some humour-use, Cass.. I laughed when I read the article at that particular part.. I still get the giggles now..
ReplyDeleteHM, wow.. but at least an eel is not part frog/fish and part human..