Bad boy

There has been (another) collision ... a crash ... a spark ... BOOM ...

... and off we go with another riveting episode of "my life so far".

It has been a strange, idea-less weekend leaving me with nothing to report other than that I have nothing to report.  So we will skip Saturday and Sunday and go directly to the events of Monday, to which the above accident referral is ... er ...referring ... ahem!

When I say 'accident' I mean this of course figuratively and not, well, you know ... I don't actually mean there was an accid....

Anyway ...

My alarm was as usual set for 6 am.  It went off!

Instead of my normal "save the day" leap out of bed and race down stairs to let the dogs out for their morning constitutional, I could only manage a sort of slow collapse onto the floor and into my flip-flops.  I grabbed a handful of clothes and headed for the bathroom where, due to my delicate stomach, I had spent most of  the night anyway.

From the very first beep of my alarm clock my head had been banging like a drum.  Every noise that I made seemed ten times louder than it actually was so the echo effect of the bathroom didn't help.

I was feeling really tired, sick and achy but continued through the motions of getting myself ready for work thinking 'I'll be OK'!

Well I wasn't!  After nearly twenty minutes of closely inspecting the toilet bowl and several attempts at altering it's colour scheme, I was forced to admit defeat and call the office.  Of course I didn't tell them all the details of my harrowing experience ... just that I was at death's door and wasn't expected to survive but was battling bravely.

I felt as if my legs were going to give way as I struggled back towards the bedroom.

From below came the whimpering of three semi-submerged dogs that urgently needed to go into the garden.  I "about faced", teetered and wobbled my way down the stairs, zig-zagged along the hallway and staggered through the kitchen to the back door.

Three cross-legged dogs did their best to let me know just how desperate their situation was.

I opened the door and they rushed out to relieve themselves.  By this time I was in a cold sweat and I sank to the floor propping myself up against the dishwasher  (I fear that no sympathy will be forthcoming at this point).

I waited until all the 'pups' had returned themselves to their beds (not taking a blind bit of notice of their 'daddy' sweating on the floor) then I struggled back to my feet, locked the door then went back to bed.

For the first time in at least five years I slept until midday and still felt knackered when I got up.

Those were the events of Monday Morning between the hours of 6 and 7 am.

Today is Tuesday.  I have muscle aches that would be more appropriate for a marathon runner.  My head still hurts!  I am still recovering from my incredible brush with, and narrow avoidance of, certain death in the way only a man can ... you know the way ... like "ill?  ill?  I was dead for three hours!!!!"