Peewee has settled in nicely and gets on very well with Chubba. Chubba plays with him like a doting grandfather and although it's nice to see, I just wish they wouldn't play fight near my feet. If I move into another room, they chase after my feet and tumble and flail, with gnashing teeth and deep throaty growls. I know they're enjoying themselves, but my poor feet seem to be the focal area for their games!
This morning whilst I was emptying the teapot, Peewee tangled himself between my legs. Now, if I had been younger, lighter and fitter, I would have been able to simply hop over him and nimbly land on my two feet...unfortunately I landed on my knees! Collapsing into a heap, the pain and nausea was too much to bear and I lay face down moaning, with lovely loyal Chubba kissing/licking my face, trying (I believe) to revive me. Peewee had scuttled off to a corner and sat watching.
BH heard the grunts (it's how he described it!), and came running into the kitchen shouting "What did you do? What happened? GET UP!!". Why is it that he always shouts when I hurt myself, demands answers and expects me to reply coherently?
I found it difficult to reply in the usual nice manner and uttered "F*ck off and leave me alone!"
"WHAT? WHAT? CAN YOU MOVE?"
I sometimes think he thinks I've gone deaf.
"Just piss off" I slurred through the agony. I couldn't quite workout whether I had broken my knees.
"CAN YOU GET UP?" I know he loves me and cares, but I have never been able to stand the fact that he almost seems to be angry with me for hurting myself!
"Leave me alone..please!"
I continued to lay face down for about 5 minutes, before I was able to haul myself into a sitting position...the nausea almost poleaxed me into a prone position again! Thankfully the kids were engrossed in the usual morning TV crap and didn't have to see their mother lying in an apparent drunken coma.
BH helped me to my feet.
"It's lucky you didn't break anything" he said.
"Why" I asked
"Well....you wouldn't have been able to iron my shirts, or take the boys to rugby in the morning!"
Thanks BH, your support is overwhelming!!!
This morning whilst I was emptying the teapot, Peewee tangled himself between my legs. Now, if I had been younger, lighter and fitter, I would have been able to simply hop over him and nimbly land on my two feet...unfortunately I landed on my knees! Collapsing into a heap, the pain and nausea was too much to bear and I lay face down moaning, with lovely loyal Chubba kissing/licking my face, trying (I believe) to revive me. Peewee had scuttled off to a corner and sat watching.
BH heard the grunts (it's how he described it!), and came running into the kitchen shouting "What did you do? What happened? GET UP!!". Why is it that he always shouts when I hurt myself, demands answers and expects me to reply coherently?
I found it difficult to reply in the usual nice manner and uttered "F*ck off and leave me alone!"
"WHAT? WHAT? CAN YOU MOVE?"
I sometimes think he thinks I've gone deaf.
"Just piss off" I slurred through the agony. I couldn't quite workout whether I had broken my knees.
"CAN YOU GET UP?" I know he loves me and cares, but I have never been able to stand the fact that he almost seems to be angry with me for hurting myself!
"Leave me alone..please!"
I continued to lay face down for about 5 minutes, before I was able to haul myself into a sitting position...the nausea almost poleaxed me into a prone position again! Thankfully the kids were engrossed in the usual morning TV crap and didn't have to see their mother lying in an apparent drunken coma.
BH helped me to my feet.
"It's lucky you didn't break anything" he said.
"Why" I asked
"Well....you wouldn't have been able to iron my shirts, or take the boys to rugby in the morning!"
Thanks BH, your support is overwhelming!!!
Comments
Post a Comment