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All in the 'ead.
I have reached the F stage. The stage whereby I am no longer thinking death is imminent and would be most welcome, not yet at the stage where I look at you quizzically and have to stop and think why you are asking me how I am and if I am better yet.
No, definitely at the F stage, or to be more precise but not as precise as I could be ( trying to be like Jesus and all that) the F'ing stage.
The " Oh Helen, how are you?"
" Getting better I think, thankyou, except for this F'ING ITCH!"
I have yet to say out loud the F'ing bit, that's the bit that is all in my head and please let it stay there. In my head though, the fishwives are having a party.
The itch ( I'm sorry this must be so dull for you, a whole week now of my itching, my blog, I get to whine as long as I like about the same damn thing) isn't as painful, hoorah, but...BUT the skin is so sore and split and dry and bruised that the scratching of the F'ing annoying and still rather persistant itch is making me so GRUMPY! F'ing hands, what the hell? When is this going to be over?? WHAT?? Scratch. Why do they still want feeding and taking to school and need talking to ? !*"@'$"!! Scratch.
Apart from that, things are bloody lovely.
H has cleaned the flat, all clear and clean and shiny and being filled with all our boxes and junk, that will clear the dog pooh room ( that absolutely does not smell at all of any kind of pooh anymore, except in my head, will it ever NOT smell of pooh in my head and will I ever be able to go in there and actually, you know breathe and stuff?) we will throw out every scrap of carpet from the room, get some nice offcut and use that room for something, ironing or storing clothes or something.
It's a bit nice to know that we will be here at least until April.....I could plant some daffodil bulbs and actually get to see them flower. We can breathe and relax and make little plans.
Plans other than winning the lottery and buying the barn and just living there forever. Which is what my head keeps doing. Bad head, swearing one minute, buying lottery tickets the next ....tsk tsk.
I am pretty sure that should I win the lottery, I would no more buy the barn than donate it all to first husbands anonymous. I just like to think of the barn with all those little extras that would have made it completely perfect. I heart the barn. *sigh*
I would buy a house in a nice bit of land and live there forever though. A 4/5 bedroom 3 bath house ( why 3 baths? Because H has a little dream of having his very own bathroom that no-one else ever uses that he can have a key to, like Uncle Jack who has just that and H wants it, H shall have it when I win the lottery) with a huge utility room and farmhouse type kitchen.
I was thinking today about how I look to other people. Often wonder about that because I am sure I look completely different to others than I do to myself.
I have no idea if I look fatter than I do to myself or thinner and will never ask in case I cry at the answer.
I think I look young enough....let me keep that little dream, it makes me happy. I certainly don't feel old enough to have these big kids. I was in the kitchen the other day putting leftovers in a plastic tub and it struck me what a maternal and grown up thing that was to do. When did all this happen? When did I get to be completely grown up and unyoung? When did I stop being 26?
I collected my duvet and feather mattress topper from the cleaners today, oooooh that bed is like a princesses haven right now, fluffy and clean smelling and all froofed up. Bliss indeed.
We are scrubbed and boiled and treated and clean, oh so clean. Every one of us. I love having both the kirby and a filter queen, ain't nothing going to get past that pair of monsters. Keep telling self that, let self believe it, must be able to relax now, all is clean. Itch.
I am happy to have so much hardwood flooring downstairs, much to be said for being able to disinfect and even bleach everything. I should be able to relax, if it weren't all in my head. Scratch. *^"!@*^!!
I hope this won't stop us having visitors, not that I am running up to people saying " Hi! I have Scabies!! Fancy a cuppa? " or anything dim like that, but people do know and I find myself saying how clean we all are now and how only I got it and no-one else but we are all treated and the house, it is SQUEAKY clean and sterilised. Please still be my friend. Try not to scratch.
No, definitely at the F stage, or to be more precise but not as precise as I could be ( trying to be like Jesus and all that) the F'ing stage.
The " Oh Helen, how are you?"
" Getting better I think, thankyou, except for this F'ING ITCH!"
I have yet to say out loud the F'ing bit, that's the bit that is all in my head and please let it stay there. In my head though, the fishwives are having a party.
The itch ( I'm sorry this must be so dull for you, a whole week now of my itching, my blog, I get to whine as long as I like about the same damn thing) isn't as painful, hoorah, but...BUT the skin is so sore and split and dry and bruised that the scratching of the F'ing annoying and still rather persistant itch is making me so GRUMPY! F'ing hands, what the hell? When is this going to be over?? WHAT?? Scratch. Why do they still want feeding and taking to school and need talking to ? !*"@'$"!! Scratch.
Apart from that, things are bloody lovely.
H has cleaned the flat, all clear and clean and shiny and being filled with all our boxes and junk, that will clear the dog pooh room ( that absolutely does not smell at all of any kind of pooh anymore, except in my head, will it ever NOT smell of pooh in my head and will I ever be able to go in there and actually, you know breathe and stuff?) we will throw out every scrap of carpet from the room, get some nice offcut and use that room for something, ironing or storing clothes or something.
It's a bit nice to know that we will be here at least until April.....I could plant some daffodil bulbs and actually get to see them flower. We can breathe and relax and make little plans.
Plans other than winning the lottery and buying the barn and just living there forever. Which is what my head keeps doing. Bad head, swearing one minute, buying lottery tickets the next ....tsk tsk.
I am pretty sure that should I win the lottery, I would no more buy the barn than donate it all to first husbands anonymous. I just like to think of the barn with all those little extras that would have made it completely perfect. I heart the barn. *sigh*
I would buy a house in a nice bit of land and live there forever though. A 4/5 bedroom 3 bath house ( why 3 baths? Because H has a little dream of having his very own bathroom that no-one else ever uses that he can have a key to, like Uncle Jack who has just that and H wants it, H shall have it when I win the lottery) with a huge utility room and farmhouse type kitchen.
I was thinking today about how I look to other people. Often wonder about that because I am sure I look completely different to others than I do to myself.
I have no idea if I look fatter than I do to myself or thinner and will never ask in case I cry at the answer.
I think I look young enough....let me keep that little dream, it makes me happy. I certainly don't feel old enough to have these big kids. I was in the kitchen the other day putting leftovers in a plastic tub and it struck me what a maternal and grown up thing that was to do. When did all this happen? When did I get to be completely grown up and unyoung? When did I stop being 26?
I collected my duvet and feather mattress topper from the cleaners today, oooooh that bed is like a princesses haven right now, fluffy and clean smelling and all froofed up. Bliss indeed.
We are scrubbed and boiled and treated and clean, oh so clean. Every one of us. I love having both the kirby and a filter queen, ain't nothing going to get past that pair of monsters. Keep telling self that, let self believe it, must be able to relax now, all is clean. Itch.
I am happy to have so much hardwood flooring downstairs, much to be said for being able to disinfect and even bleach everything. I should be able to relax, if it weren't all in my head. Scratch. *^"!@*^!!
I hope this won't stop us having visitors, not that I am running up to people saying " Hi! I have Scabies!! Fancy a cuppa? " or anything dim like that, but people do know and I find myself saying how clean we all are now and how only I got it and no-one else but we are all treated and the house, it is SQUEAKY clean and sterilised. Please still be my friend. Try not to scratch.
Labels: itching and thinking
posted by The other me | 5:57 pm
4 Comments:
When people talk about head lice it always makes my head itch. So weird isn't it? Ran into a woman that works at Lyrics school today and she reminded me of you Helen. She is older, but tlks just like you. I wanted to run up and give her a big hug.
I'm sure they will wait until you've healed, but they will come around again Helen. :)
I would be wondering the same things.
Oh if you weren't an ocean away, I would still visit you! Hopefully you won't have to itch much longer. I was a child when I had scabies...i remember the itching, but don't recall how long it lasted.
Enjoy your nice clean bedding!!!
I would LOVE a cuppa!! And I promise not to itch even one time...no matter what. I love that you're trying your damndest to stay upbeat Helen :)...at least with your words...a lesser woman would out the f'ing door by now :)
HUGS!!
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