Monday, 30 April 2012
That is what I have chosen to call it.
Today when arriving home from work I like the dutiful housewife hung up the dry cleaning, put the shopping away, and started on dinner.
Then once dinner was safe to leave simmering away I retreated to the boudoir to put on my oh so fetching navy blue trackydacks (tracksuit bottoms). Hot, I know.
As I put my oh so comfy fleecy lined trackydacks on I had an incoming call from the sister in law. So Elaine and I sat chatting on my couch whinging about Lime and how he'd broken my Internet. (and putting the world to right obviously).
It was while sitting I noticed an ever increasing itchiness... And on inspection I found what I feared. An Unidentified Bite (UB) on the side of my knee.
I very quickly removed my trackydacks. And left them in a pile on the floor for Limes investigatory skills later on. I've heard the stories...
Of course, I'll cut to the chase now. Lime found nothing in those trackys. His hypochondriac paranoid arachnophobic girlfriend has imagined another bite....
Even with a raised lump similar to a bad mossie bite he turns to me and says "are you sure you didn't just catch it on something or scratch yourself". Yes. That is it. Thank god for Lime. Here I was thinking I knew what a bite insect or otherwise looked like and obviously I was completely wrong and have been since I was a child. Silly me.
Now I'm not saying it was a spider. It could have been a mozzie escaping the cold outside. But I haven't seen or heard him. And if you've visited our house you'll agree there's not many places to hide. Magnolia walls throughout. No substantial wall art. Etc etc.
But there is certainly no evidence of a spider either. As I would imagine it would be harder for a spider to escape my trackys than a mozzie. Unfortunately the spiders that tend to bite don't all have webs. So not easily traceable either.
So here I am. Wide awake thanks to a rather uncomfortable itchy bite on my left side knee. While Lime snores away.
Can't even take a photo for you as its fricking dark.
Beware of those UB's people. You never know when they're really scratches and you're just a paranoid arachnophobic watching tv wrapped in a blanky while your trackys are left in a pile on the front room floor 'just in case'.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, 19 April 2012
For instance two weeks ago I went to a healthy aerobics class that focuses on LBT for the first time in a few months. I couldn't walk for 3 days! Sitting down and standing up were AGONY. An then silly me did it all again the next week...
So today after a good warm up of a run decide to use the climbing wall for my last 15 mins before I have to shower and dress and run to work.
The bruise hasn't come up. Yet. I can feel it. its been stiffer and achier all day! But let's just say the climbing wall won! The blood washed away (although I have now this afternoon cut my thumb open too and that bleeds as I type this) but ouchy. Healthy is NOT safe.
There are sooo many injuries and potential injuries.
Even the paper today is whining about Aussie rules football injuries needing medical assistance. And there are a lot of them by the way the article goes.
Look at my trampolining injury that left me with codeine and a chiro bill. The ski trip which broke my arm...
A swing cut my tongue open when I was running round the park as a child (a form of exercise even when fun just like skiing and trampolining).
I can not think about a single incident suffered from sitting on my couch with a cup of tea. And maybe a bar of chocolate. And the Telly. Obviously.
So let's consider this - is healthy worth the unsafety?!
Thursday, 5 April 2012
I don't know how that works. And maybe I misinterpreted. But you guys aren't dead. I didn't leave you as people. I Left the UK for Australia. If I coulda brought you all with me I woulda.
Does that mean no more Skype? No more emails? Should I delete you all from Facebook? Ignore my parents and sister and decline chocolate deliveries?
Stop saying things like "in England we do it this way..." "when I lived in England..." "my friend blah in England..."?
Should I burn my UK passport? And denounce you all to Satan?
Oh the questions. I feel if I put these to the psychologist she may think I'm nuts. I will keep these to myself.
But suffice to say I think that her theory only applies when your life is taken from you and you have no choice.
But I share with you a floral arrangement from the Melbourne International Flower and Garden Show (MIFGS) called inspired by Mexico's day of the dead. But you're not all dead. Just so you know.
Last week came the big chill. I bought new slippers. Fleecy lined and they come up my legs. Not uggs. A knitted patterned giant sock with a sole. The heating came on before I even considered leaving my bed. And all the summer clothes were stashed in the back of the wardrobe in a very big suitcase while all the jumpers were brought out.
But this is Melbourne... And as a girl at work said "you should have known better by now".
It has been mid to late twenties all week. No jumpers being worn. Maybe a cardy on the way to the station at the most. Or on the way home as the time change means the sun is down when I'm done at my gym after work. Boo.
And tomorrow Good Friday is destined to be 28 degrees. Hello Autumn! My name is Nicole. And I like you more and more!