it’s zombie headless chicken time

This morning was… interesting. My skull feels like someone’s jammed a metal helmet a size too small over it and is playing merry tunes on it with a spanner. Ha, and I didn’t even have any Fun to account for this! However, onward regardless! Although the time has come for drastic action – yes, I am finally going to take some painkillers. And then approach a menthol crystal soaking in boiling water, finally getting closer than a distance of my own body-length.

Neither of these remedies worked a damn. However, onward regardless! I have a two-hour walk, a three-hour stint of fightclub (the last big push before the grading) and several hours of maths lying in wait for me like a series of bear-traps, and before that – well, I see it is a cloudy, foggy day. What are the odds of that happening when I’m actually at home? Quick, Batman, to the window frames! And don’t forget where you left the paintbrush this time!

For a sodding miracle, the sun did not immediately put his hat on and come out to play, hurrah! So that’s the lucky fourth coat on both the spare room windows and the lounge ones and indeed they do look in much better nick than the studio frames are. I sure hope that lasts. But I was stunned to see I had spent almost all morning on it. And did not feel any better, even with the chill breath of the mists on my face. Quick Batman, to the internet! Let us ask well-meaning people what speedy remedies I can take to sort myself out before the big exercise kick!

More menthol crystals, apparently. With a towel over my head, approaching to a distance of only a few inches (eep). Oh, and hanging my head off the edge of the bed so all the snot drains from my sinuses.

Dear god, that all hurt even more than it did before! It was like lightning in my nose, and thunder in my skull – and worse, managed to de-fossilise precisely nothing. In fact, post-remedies, I was unable to walk the length of the flat without holding onto the wall.

Perhaps I had better get a bus into town.

Oh give it up, woman, if they even ask you to do high-low combi-punches you’ll be passed out! Worse, your poor partner will have their training wrecked too.

So instead, I am going to fail the grading, I guess. At least this means I will not have to eat a hat, but it will be highly embarrassing.

Feeling like a complete failure, I at least dragged myself through and cleaned all the windows; only to discover that those times the rain had come on when the stain was still wet? Well, I have found out where the stain went, so the lucky fourth coats were probably sorely needed rather than the overkill I suspected them to be. It’s all over the damn glass, is where – spattered on in little brown raindrop shapes. Bah humbug.

I should point out now that playing with razorblades when you can barely see, let alone turn your head without cringing, is not to be recommended. However, I managed to razorblade most of the stain off the glass. Without removing any appendages as well. So that is one trick I have been taught that actually works! And I gutted all the communal areas so I could take some new ‘lodger wanted’ photos of the place. (The old ones, I sought last night, but true to form for my recent falling-out with Technology, they are gone into the ether. They will probably reappear once I no longer need them.)

So I would love to say I have a lovely, spotless flat with everything in its right place; but what I actually have is a whole lotta Stuff in the hall. And a very cold flat, cos the windows have been open all morning.

Right. I suppose, some Sums now.

But my fingers were now too cold to clasp the pen. Buttons to it all, I sticking on the heating and going to bed!

You know it’s a bad sign when you go to bed in full thermals and thick trackies, with a coat on, and wake up two hours later, not one bit warmer.

I did not get anything useful done all evening, either. Instead, it occurred to me that the best way to relieve the pressure in my head (as well as unleash the sheer despair of it all) was to take advantage of my solitude and cry mightily. And here, my luck has finally turned, for do I not have the perfect props to do so? I am three-hundred pages off the end of book four of the Malazan Book of the Fallen, which seems to be roughly where they start the crescendo to ‘Everybody’s Dead, Dave’. It’s guaranteed to be an utter tear-jerker!

I don’t believe it; the protagonists finally caught a break. I went to bed dry-eyed and desolate, having spent the evening drinking diluting juice. Something about this lifestyle is really unsatisfying, I just have to put my finger on it…

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About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in cheese with that?, fightclub, forever coming down with something, so much for plan b. Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to it’s zombie headless chicken time

  1. motheralice says:

    Oh doll… Sounds like a bit of a rough time! Hope you feel better soon!

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