Saturday, January 13, 2007


How to be a sloth.

This is getting ridiculous. Getting to bed after midnight (blame the tennis on the telly, as well as this compulsive blog reading) then we listen to a quiz on the radio. So it's after 1 am and I'm still awake, even if he has fallen asleep with the radio on. Then we sleep in till after 10am! It's appalling really.

We're in this rut, and we can't get out. Well, I can't. Marc will probably bounce back tomorrow with a burst of energy to put me to shame. His shoulder is gradually feeling better (thanks partly I'm sure to a bit of a massage I gave him in the worst bit in the back of his shoulder! He can touch is face now, without lowering his face to his hand. There's improvement for you.)

It's warm outside, in that soporific way that humidity tends to bring.. so it doesn't inspire you to do much when you're in sloth mode already. (I was drenched from sweat after my little gallavant on the bike yesterday, so I'm not inspired to even hang a load of wet washing out. ) I guess the kids would like to go to the beach, but Dad won't be able to take them out the back.

I still feel funny in the chest. On my HUGE (not!) bike ride of 6.5 km, I felt like an asthmatic. (Well, I felt like I imagine an asthmatic feels).. and I still feel that way a bit. I guess I should get me to a chemist and fill the repeat script - presumably what the doctor wrote it for. Maybe it will bring me back to normal completely. (I just don't want another dose of thrush!) In the past few days I have also experienced my first ever sinus headaches, I think. (I've had my share of other headaches, but not this pressure type one emanating from the area around the bridge of my nose.) They aren't crashingly bad, but they are not helping me feel that terrific.

It's a bit pointless leaving the decision to get medicine till 4pm on a Saturday. There won't be any pharmacies open for miles.

And when you get up that late, breakfasts happen closer to lunch time. And then you pick at whatever you feel like for lunch. Poor deprived children. If there was ever an incentive to sit back and do absolutely nothing, though, it's the 13 year old:

Her: Is there any cold meat?
Me: Just the truckload of pastrami your father bought (that the rest of us don't like.)
Her: *grunts*. Isn't there any bread in the freezer?
Me: Only what's left of that multigrain on the bench. There's lots of tomatoes.
Her: *Pffft. Hmmmph. Sheesh*.. Well what IS there for lunch?
Me: Well, you could go to the shop and pick up some bread. [shop is 5 mins walk/2 mins bike ride]
Her: *snorts and stomps off, rolling her eyes and muttering*
Me and her dad: Geez, it's hard to find good staff these days isn't it.

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It's summer. It does it to the best of folk. We (not SD tho, someone has to earn a living to pay for our indulgence)sleep until 10, I let everyone graze (granola bars!) and we stay the heck inside because it's 101 degrees (39C?) and 90% humidity. As for getting help...I'm with ya, sister.
*chuckles* - we were meaning that Her Royal Highness is having trouble finding good staff to keep the fridge and pantry stocked to her desires!

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