We have two water pistols in the bath. They're the sponge coated ones with the handle you draw back to suck the water up with before you then single shot spray at an enemy.
theBoy was in the bath as I was next to him in the shower. He used the new water pistol to fire it up at the ceiling over the partition between the bath and the shower and spray me with water ("it's raining!"). While he was distracted with filling his up, I grabbed the other one and started counter firing over the partition.
It was inevitable then that he would load his water pistol, move to the side of the partition, pull the shower curtain back, and shoot me with his weapon. Several times, in fact. And because I was I was trying to shoot him then he could shoot me at my front. Which meant of course he went for my junk, every single time. Plus he could rapidly reload from his bath water whereas I had to cup my hand to allow shower water to pool there and gradually suck it up. He got about three shots in for each one of mine. He was also unerringly accurate because to my chagrin he actually managed to fire a blast that caught me right in my pee hole.
That is the last time I attempt to shower when a dead eye dick eye shooter is in the bath next door.
On a side note...
I can't be arsed making this a separate post. And I figure I can do a Bridget Jones and simply note stats / metrics about health attempts or violations thereof as a kind of footnote to a proper post. I rode the TPC today. I did it on a cocktail of Nurofen, Paracetamol and Codeine. This combined intake dialled the pain that always results, from both exertion of limbs and the crippling agony the seat inflicts in my arse region, way back down. I was in fact able to do the 40 minutes in a single sitting without getting off, cracking 12.5 kays in the process. It was a good ride, and while I didn't get the exercise high I did partially enter THE EXERTION ZONE. That's where you get a good rhythm going, your breathing is deep but regular, and the sweat just rolls on down.
So I had that going for me.
However prior to all of that I spent much of the day feeling pretty shit. Sore in the guts with IBS, sore in the limbs from my fucked biomechanics. As such I was tetchy and quick to annoyance. Which is horrible to be around. Plus that easily-annoyed state runs up smack against theBoy's natural theBoyness; which consists of him running around and shouting at the top of his voice. I started flinching when he came near, his five-year-old lungs bellowing out random gibberish as the sound of his rapidly moving feet echoed down the spinal corridor (1). I hate feeling that way. And that's what constant pain, even if low-grade, does to you. It sucks the colour out of the world and you see everything as an obstacle to get past instead of life to be lived. Usually, though, when I feel that way it means it's at the peak of the pain-cycle. So it's downhill now in the good way with the yucky feelings soon to pass. At least so experience tells me. Hooray for cycles!
(1) theWife took him out of the house for an hour when she went to Bunnings for secret garden business. I got to spend that time lying in front of the end room window, myBeloved tablet held just behind the curtain and away from the sun, a cat either side of me in dozing sunny slumber. Yay theWife!
theBoy was in the bath as I was next to him in the shower. He used the new water pistol to fire it up at the ceiling over the partition between the bath and the shower and spray me with water ("it's raining!"). While he was distracted with filling his up, I grabbed the other one and started counter firing over the partition.
It was inevitable then that he would load his water pistol, move to the side of the partition, pull the shower curtain back, and shoot me with his weapon. Several times, in fact. And because I was I was trying to shoot him then he could shoot me at my front. Which meant of course he went for my junk, every single time. Plus he could rapidly reload from his bath water whereas I had to cup my hand to allow shower water to pool there and gradually suck it up. He got about three shots in for each one of mine. He was also unerringly accurate because to my chagrin he actually managed to fire a blast that caught me right in my pee hole.
That is the last time I attempt to shower when a dead eye dick eye shooter is in the bath next door.
On a side note...
I can't be arsed making this a separate post. And I figure I can do a Bridget Jones and simply note stats / metrics about health attempts or violations thereof as a kind of footnote to a proper post. I rode the TPC today. I did it on a cocktail of Nurofen, Paracetamol and Codeine. This combined intake dialled the pain that always results, from both exertion of limbs and the crippling agony the seat inflicts in my arse region, way back down. I was in fact able to do the 40 minutes in a single sitting without getting off, cracking 12.5 kays in the process. It was a good ride, and while I didn't get the exercise high I did partially enter THE EXERTION ZONE. That's where you get a good rhythm going, your breathing is deep but regular, and the sweat just rolls on down.
So I had that going for me.
However prior to all of that I spent much of the day feeling pretty shit. Sore in the guts with IBS, sore in the limbs from my fucked biomechanics. As such I was tetchy and quick to annoyance. Which is horrible to be around. Plus that easily-annoyed state runs up smack against theBoy's natural theBoyness; which consists of him running around and shouting at the top of his voice. I started flinching when he came near, his five-year-old lungs bellowing out random gibberish as the sound of his rapidly moving feet echoed down the spinal corridor (1). I hate feeling that way. And that's what constant pain, even if low-grade, does to you. It sucks the colour out of the world and you see everything as an obstacle to get past instead of life to be lived. Usually, though, when I feel that way it means it's at the peak of the pain-cycle. So it's downhill now in the good way with the yucky feelings soon to pass. At least so experience tells me. Hooray for cycles!
(1) theWife took him out of the house for an hour when she went to Bunnings for secret garden business. I got to spend that time lying in front of the end room window, myBeloved tablet held just behind the curtain and away from the sun, a cat either side of me in dozing sunny slumber. Yay theWife!
Have you had a chance to fit the Miracle Seat that will reduce the Purgatory Cart to, possibly, mere Naughty Corner Tricycle status?
ReplyDeleteAlas it did not fit. Apparently there may be an attachment...
Delete