Durrr.... as Homer Simpson would say - it's two weeks later and much has happened. I keep promising myself I will try to write every day but as a born procrastinator, what did I really expect?
Anyhoo, lots have happened. Both good and bad. After a wonderful week of detox we got some shocking and sad news on the Friday night and L and I were so distraught we comforted each other, and then found comfort in a few bevvies too. Quite a few vodkas were partaken of... oh well, such is life. "The detox at least helped me prepare for the onslaught", I thought. And it was much needed. The wagon was fallen on, packed up and put away and we were en route to Hicksville ...
The following day we dragged our butts out of bed and ran a few errands. Even L felt rubbish, and he rarely gets hangovers (damn that man!). That night we went to a friends party - along with our rotten hangovers - and I had one or two drinks but that was it. I couldn't face any more. Felt too rough. "Damn detox", I thought, "Where has my stamina gone!?"
Thank God for Sunday. A day of rest was much needed, and restored some normality to our home!
On Weds last, I helped organise a friends hen night (did two nights of detox in preparation!) and we had a ball. What a laugh. It was great fun and the other hens were lovely; there were eight of us, just the right size really, and it was really really good fun. We had dinner out, played a few silly games (no 20-something willies and condoms stuff, mind you) and consumed a few drinkies. We eventually left the hen sleeping on her sofa around 1am on Thursday morning, wrapped in tinsel and a painfully tight tiara, surrounded by broken champagne glasses; I haven't a clue who broke them, but I know I was still drinking mine when there was glass on the floor [the trick is to never put your glass down]. I got a text from her 7 hours later saying thanks for a brilliant night and that she'd woken up on the bathroom floor ... hmmm!
Still and all, she doesn't seem to remember who broke the glasses either, but she says she had a great time. Can't wait for the wedding now - next week!
Last week I also managed to do three pregnancy tests. Quite a record for me. My period came and went in about a 24 hour "period" but consisted of nothing but spotting. So I thought it was still due, if you know what I mean. So I waited some more. But nope, no sign of it. Went to my GP and discussed it with her and she suggested I might be preggers. Hmmm.... I got excited for about 1/8 of a second ... and then resigned myself to believing the pregnancy tests and thus no, I can't be preggers (and then went on the hen night bender, with renewed vigour).
Despite that, I did promise her I would test again in a week, but with zero symptoms I think I am about to waste yet another pg test tomorrow morning. In fact, I think I'm ovulating again - jeez, doesn't time fly? - so I am kind of geared up for this months efforts instead. I've got a back up plan though and am back to see my ole consultant next week to have more blood work done. Yipeeedee... The joys of infertility.
What else... oooooh yes. L had a wonderful surprise for me arranged for last week. My day of learning to ride a horse. Oh yaay!!
GG (isn't that a horse term anyway? As in: "put some GGs on that nag there Michael"??) had never been on a horse before in her life. [I mean, me. I'd never been on a horse before in my life. I must stop talking about myself in the third person!]
Back to the horses :
It was amazing! Oh lordy though, my ASS was killing me afterwards. My poor bottom!! And my blinking shoulders, legs, arms, bum, bum, bum... but it was brilliant. I loved it. The horses were HUGE. And I didn't exactly learn to ride in a day, I more or less learned how to throw yourself up on a horse with all the grace of a dung beetle, slide off a horse in the manner of a person falling from a window... and sit there looking cool while we "walked on"...
Ah it was great; all I needed was a cowboy hat and a blade of straw. Well, to be fair there was plenty of straw as we walked round Wimbledon Common but I couldn't quite reach down that far from the height I was at to pull any up.
People out picnicking actually took photos of us! (Eejits!) Still, it was great. I learnt a few bits and pieces; positioning, names ("reigns", "canter", "horse", etc!) and we did a bit of "trotting". Hilarious; bouncing around on the horse, with your arse slamming up and down... well, sort-of hilarious. What was the other term I was thinking of? Oh yes - "painful as hell". I need to keep practising that one. But apparently my posture is excellent... fnar!!!!
Anyway, it was a brilliant day and the sun was shining and I got a few freckles. We got home around 4.30 and I took to my bath.
And then I took to my bed for a doze, too.
And then I spent the next three days tottering around as gently as possible, trying not to move a single muscle.
Seriously.
My ass is still killing me...
So thence to the weekend, and we had dinner with friends, which was lovely, and I had another few glasses of wine (as you can tell, I'm not taking this "might be preggers" lark very seriously, otherwise I would of course be off the booze) but I am back on the detox again now for another week and I must say, my patches don't look half as bad as the first week. I MUST be improving. Less toxins....yaay! Roll on the weekend and I'm looking forward to replacing those toxins with fresh ones as we party on Saturday night....
And so to another month. Hurray for August; the sun is finally shining! And bye-bye July; I may have fallen off the wagon but at least I managed to hang on to the horse!
GGx
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