Awooga! Awooga! This Is A Drill! Do Not Panic!

This is not today's proper blog. This is more a catch-up of some of the week's other stories.

Number 1: The Edwardian nightshirts I wear - d grinned at me last night after reading the blog and said "Oh...erm...you know those were also women's nightgowns, right?"
"What?" I said.
"Yep - women's nightgowns, from the M&S outlet store..." she said, grinning.

So - that's me. Fat fuck by day, snoring transvestite by night, whichever way I turn.

Number 2: Draino - This morning, the drain-dynamite arrived (late, in case you're wondering - thank you Tesco.com; after all, every little irritates). As d was putting away the groceries - it's a thing I can do, but there are Da Vinci Code levels of complexity in our storage system), she disturbed some stuff in the vegetable rack, and got a faceful of the vomit-stench.
"Ohhhhkay," she called to where I was arranging water into a scale model of the Bottle City of Kandor in the hallway. "Found the source of the vomit-smell!"
Carrots. Organic carrots no less, and carrots that had already been visually inspected (I'm under instruction to point out), but which, on being disturbed, revealed a darker, seamier underside, that was weeping orange evil...down onto a container of MouseKill poison, as it happened. So - pretty much poison gas, with that unmistakably vomitty smell of carrots - makes sense, no? So that's that little mystery cleared up.

Number 3: J'accuse! - Last night, after a day of wearing floaty clothing, I succumbed once again to the Hell that is the sneak-peak, and got a shock. 20 stone 4.5!! Of course, I had just drunk a whole two-litre bottle of water, but nevertheless, it rocked me back on my heels a bit. As I was getting into bed, who should get out of their crib again, but Mr Tachycardia - a-thummina-thummina-thumthumthum...So I did my usual trick and it settled immediately down. But still, that means I've had two tachycardic episodes in the space of one week. The nurse may not be at all happy about that on Monday. Oh, incidentally, weighed again this morning, and I'm back down to 19 stone 13 - which is at least a relief - and an indication that a bottle of water is worth around 5.5 pounds! - but still puts me UP on the week by a pound and a half at this point. From this there are several important lessons. 1 - DON'T FREAKING WEIGH BETWEEN WEIGH-INS!!! WHAT is so hard about that? WHY can't I leave well enough alone?? 2 - Walk more! For reasons of starting this week with two days at home, and meeting d in the beautiful summer evenings, and to some extent my own bad timekeeping, I haven't actually done a single walk across the park this week - that'll be changing come Monday! and 3 - it's really not healthy to obssess over numbers. I mean, really. We all know I have an addictive nature - see the 'My Brain Works Differently' entry for details - and there's a real potential danger for me of turning this number-crunching aspect of this experiment into an addictive tic, an obssessive hobby. The danger of course being firstly that I'll drive everybody around me absolutely nuts, but more importantly, with my obssessive hobbies, I tend to be intensely interested in things for relatively short periods of time, after which I drop them completely. Turning the weight-measurement aspect of this experiment into an obssessive hobby - Baaaaaaad. d's even threatening to take the scales away from me between weigh-ins. Probably not a bad idea, all in all...


Oh and finally, a disclaimer. My pal Mae texted me last night to say she was 'choking on her dinner' while reading yesterday's entry. This is really rather flattering. I'd love to have to put a disclaimer on the whole blog - "Do not read this while eating or drinking anything" - but that would be blwoing my own trumpet rather too much, no? Unless of course she meant that the thought of me in Victoria's Secret nightware was turning her stomach, which of course is entirely understandable...