So how's my recovery going? Yes I knew you'd all want to know the answer to that question. It's going well - considering that it's only been two days since I got a diagnosis. But I am a little peeved with my family. They KNOW I have to rest and no one has hired me four strong Nubian slaves wearing only loin cloths (well, it's hot here in Brisbane) and bearing large ostrich feather fans and platters of peeled grapes. It's not much to ask for - after 26 years of marriage and 25 years of child rearing. I know I have a household of four adult males but both Iven and Luke have dodgy backs and they'd struggle carrying me around in a sedan chair. And let's face it, Iven's loin-cloth-wearing-days are probably behind him.
Artist's Impression Of Me And My Nubians
I've been getting a little help with the meals and the laundry. Work's my biggest energy-sucker but there's not a lot you can do about that when you're the sole operator of a business and it's the busy time of the year. Yesterday I had clients in my workroom from midday till 4pm and I found out that I don't do well going without food for so long. So I'm going to buy some healthy snacks to have on hand just in case that happens again. And talking about food - I'm being so good about my diet. I'm throwing fresh greens and reds and oranges and purples with every meal and feeling much better for doing so. I'm avoiding a lot of sugar cause that makes me really tired and I've chucked out lactose all together and my bowels and family thank me for it daily.
Green With Envy
But my biggest problem has come in the shape of a spotted dog. Nelson is jealous! He's getting sick and tired of Bubbles being the chosen one (for walks). And he's acting out like a two year old who missed out on ice cream. He tried the pitiful eyes and soulful expression and that didn't work. I'm not deliberately cruel - he's just the equivalent of 98 in dog years and has dodgy hips that will only carry him a kilometre if he's lucky. Then he switched tactics and decided to bark for most of the time that we were walking. Again, not a very successful tactic because I can't hear him when I'm on the other side of the suburb. But I guess, being a dog you don't have many weapons in your persuasion arsenal.
So he's resigned himself to the fact that he won't be going out and he's not happy - in fact he's been out for some doggy revenge. He's taken ideas from the monkeys in the Madagascar movie and gone for the only other trick up his sleeve (actually, it wasn't up his sleeve) - he's gone for the poo-flinging.
He's gotten me twice in the last 24 hours. Last night he had a little accident on the steps leading outside. He acted like he didn't want to come in until I'd cleaned it up just in case he trod in it and brought it into the house. So he lured me into his carefully thought out and brilliant plan. I went outside and picked up the first deposit, then the second and, while carrying it down the stairs to put into the garden, I stepped in the one that he'd hidden under the cover of darkness. Score one for Nellie - none for me.
Then this morning I woke up early to meet the group before they left me eating their dust. It was still dark but I was confident because of the previous night's shenanigans that there would be no little whoopsies in the kitchen. Well, I was wrong. Nellie had boobie-trapped the floor just as you walk in to turn the light on.Score two for Nellie.
He's Not Sleeping - He's Plotting More Revenge
I've organised for Iven to take him for a little walk this afternoon - so I guess he's won.