It has not been one of my better weekends. I felt it coming and did what most stubborn men would do, I powered on through thinking that this would be the end of it. It appears I was mistaken.
Friday arrived with my girls and I chilling and watching a couple of episodes of "The Mentalist" and having a slap together supper of leftovers and fresh rolls. So far so good.
What I had failed to mention was that i had been feeling a little tender earlier in the evening and should have sufficed with some toast or a bland supper instead of the butter roasted chicken with cheese, mayonnaise and lettuce. Common sense would have agreed with you.
All was well till about 23H00 that evening when I heard rumblings of thunder and got up to check that the bedroom window was closed only to discover that the evening sky was clear. It was a storm brewing in my belly! I scrambled for the bathroom and made it in time, only just.
This continued for 24 hours and eventually my bottom would begin sobbing at the mere sight of a piece of toilet paper approaching it.
Cramps, explosions, sweat and Oros and pills passed through a haze of sleep, sprints and sighs of relief. My girls were wonderful and helped wherever they could and I emerged Sunday morning weak and professing to respect my body, my belly and avoid highly spiced food unless the challenge involved a fair maiden, a sports team or beer. That seems fair.
It was a reminder to me that we are not super-humans and we cannot keep burning the candle at both ends, something has to give. I need a hobby, something out of the flat, something to distract me and focus some me-time on. Any ideas?
I am almost recovered and like a well tuned machine running on 3 cylinders I splutter forth and anxiously await breakfast.
Good Nite All
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