It was suppose to be a quiet Saturday morning, nothing hectic planned, no stress foreseen, nothing - butterflies, birds, honey and trickling water were suppose to be theme of the day. However, I did forget that it seems I am direct descendant of Mr Murphy, and that all his laws and some more, seem to apply, in full, to me. It is now late afternoon, and I have yet to speak to Uncle Nick, however, I can see one dreaded moleskin notebook making an appearance...erm, maybe I should tell him now that he might need more than one.
Strike one – Delaying doctors visit for no good reason except own stubbornness.
First visit this morning was to my doctor, who by the way, I have been avoiding for the past week, although I am as sick as a dog, and have been running a fever for the same time.
“Do you always HAVE to wait until you are literally at death’s door, young lady?” (Jeepers, what is it with this young lady business?)
“What do you mean you do not want the injection in your bottom? Does it look that I am giving you a choice? The fever needs to be brought under control”
The look that accompanied that sentence, whilst waiving a syringe and one evil looking needle my direction, effectively resulted in no further arguments. However, quick thinking was required to put the bottom cheek forward that no longer reflects caning stripes. In his mood, he might have wanted to refresh them....
Strike Two – Lying and buying stuff because of the guilt
Next stop, the Chinese woman and her needles. It has to do with lymph nodes etc, but halfway through the procedure, already quite naked lying on my back, the request was received that she needs access to my back. But, the backside, especially the bottom still rather reflects quite a bit of bruises, and a couple of cane tracks...therefore quite a couple of blatant lies were provided why I could not lie on my stomach.
I left with a abdomen that feels as if it is attached to my spine, I have four needles in each ear that must be removed, one per day over the next couple of days....and because of my guilt lying to the nice lady, I also bought some “may-day-sin”. Apparently, it will be good for my digestive system...
Strike Three – High Speed Driving , while yelling and talking on cell phone
Coughing and spluttering, holding onto a stomach that had just endured needles, vibrating needles at that, I was on my way to collect the monthly 15kg cat food bag. With a friend in the car, sending text messages on her phone, I was patiently waiting at a traffic light, when two hands enter the car through the open window next to my friend, plucked her cell phone neatly out of her hands, then hands and body ran to a waiting car on the highway, got in and took off.
Blame it on the needle being waved in my face, and the other ones stuck into my stomach, but I saw RED. With Uncle Nick talking to me on the cell phone, whilst I am driving and yelling at some idiot to get out of the way, I was in pursuit of the thieves. Forty kilometres further, after driving at about 150km/hour and weaving in between cars travelling rather a bit slower, I admitted defeat. Okay, fine – I had no more petrol left to do this exercise. I was asked the question when arriving home, what exactly I was planning to do when I did catch up with them....erm, I did not think that far ahead, but I am sure I will have thought of something incredibly stupid to do...
Therefore, I am now going to quietly retire, to offer some serious prayers to the deities above, that Uncle Nick on his return from his shopping expedition would have had hundreds of young ladies smiling at him...
Because nobody knows the trouble I foresee...
