Sunday, 9 March 2014

(Not) Silent Sunday - Over the counter

Look.  I know Sunday is for photos, not words.  But I was poorly yesterday, so this is my Saturday post.  What can I say?  I'm sorry.

Yesterday, I had a chocolate induced migraine.  It was my own fault.  I'd wolfed down too-many-to-mention M&Ms before I'd even thought about the consequences - it was as if someone had switched the 'Greed' button to Go and I went into a trance, only putting two and two together when I looked down five minutes later and saw that the bag was empty.


My head was foggy yesterday morning but after a long time muttering to myself, I hauled myself up to make the traditional Saturday morning pancakes for the boys.  I was feeling a bit vomity by the end of that, but as it was such a lovely day ("Make the most of it!  Make the most of it!" said the shit for brains voice in my head), I forced everyone up and out and into town.

After I'd been sick in the drain behind Debenhams, I thought maybe it was time to head back.  I swayed into Boots, brown bits stuck to my chin, and demanded drugs.  The wide-eyed lad behind the counter threw a box of Solpadeine Max at my head and, making the sign of the cross, cried "And don't darken our automatic doors ever again!"

I made that last bit up.

After a slightly dodgy drive back home, when I could only half see and had to get the boys to navigate, I slurred at the boys to be good ('beeee gurrrrrr') and dragged my failing body upstairs, drugs fizzing in a glass.

Let me tell you.  I don't care if those drugs cause addiction after three days.  After two hours, my head - although not quite right as rain - was certainly functioning again pretty much as it should be.  I wasn't being sick.  My eyes were working.  And I could speak.

Drugs manufacturers get a hard time (and they probably deserve a lot of it) but My God, if Mr Solpadeine had been in the room yesterday, I would have given him a blow job.  And I would have concentrated on it, too - rather than just think about other things like I usually do, like tea-time, or Christmas, or work.

And because I was feeling better, it meant I could watch Gravity with my boys.  (It was good.)

And it also meant that I got a good night's sleep, which in turn meant that I felt back to normal today.

Which meant that I've had a lovely day, being here with the boys:

So thank you Mr Solpadeine.  Even though you are probably an Evil Bastard, you are My Evil Bastard.

1 comment:

  1. Everyone should have an Evil Bastard to call their own.


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