I've been neglecting this little blob. And also the washing-up, the laundry, the craft table, the menu-plan... Christmas has come and gone in a blurry round of parties and visitors and road trips, and with Keith on holiday, and all the kiddo activities on hold, we're out of the normal flow of things. Which should be really nice.
But is not.
Something has gone awol in my back. It feels, I could swear, like a small horse with a hard, pointy hoof KICKED me a good one right in the middle of my spine. I'm pretty sure this didn't happen. But whatever muscle is doing a spastic jig has sent me under, into the whingey, frowny, land of pain and hot baths and painkillers, and because of my dark past, into the Bad Place where my brain whispers 'This is it! The big one! The one where you have to recalibrate life so that you never have to pick anything up or bend over or carry small people! The alternative future that SUCKS!'
And when you live with delicious naughtiness like this:
the main requirement is ENERGY. Why is Teddy wearing undies on his head? Why is Ivy constructing a tower of hats? Why did this game require that all the clothes leave the cupboard for the floor? I can't even flip this photo sideways. Could you just turn your head to the side? and while you're at it, fold my washing?
Yesterday, I hit the wall and hit the painkillers. Today, I feel a little better and can sense a return to a normal persons feeling of general impending doom, rather than the imminent collapse of the fabric of my world. In the spirit of the old saying: Why hit yourself on the head with a hammer? Because it feels so damn good when it's over... I embrace the onset of 2011 with the fervent hope that it will be less painful than yesterday, and contain no phantom horse assaults.
And you, my inter-webby buddies, I wish for you the same blessed future.