Not at all sure why yesterday turned into a Zero Day. Stuff happened - it really did. I found my blood testing kit, so blood yesterday was 5.8. It was also my first day being Xenical-free, about which I could have said really quite a lot. Oh and then it was National Cleavage Day, which of course would have been a gift for Man-Breast Boy...
What happened, I think, was an example of how, if you're open to it, or looking for it, or even practically begging for it, distraction from the important stuff can blot out your day. Or your week. Or, come to that, even your life.
Waking up at 4AM this morning, the excitement of the oncoming car kinda flipped me over and over and over again, thinking about the fact that I'd budgeted for it on paper, without thinking of those occasionally important things like...oh, I dunno, fuel, for one, and renewing things like the MoT in September, and buying insurance in year 2, and year 3 and year 4, while stretched to the limit for the simple joy of having something with wheels in the garage.
After falling back to sleep of a sort, I woke up cramping, and ran to the bathroom for a true Xenical-explosion. Still working just freakin' dandy after a day without taking any of them in, clearly.
"You having second thoughts?" said d, when I finally emerged, grey and shaky, from the bathroom.
"Erm..." I said.
"It's OK if you are," she said, inviting me to speak.
"Yyyyeah," I agreed. Turned out she'd been having the same sort of thoughts.
We made our way to Aquacise, talking as we went. Then we were in the mercifully warm water, irredeemably pratting about, and talking.
By the time we'd done our Aquacising, we had decided to leave the car in the showroom, and use the money to reduce our debt threshold.
"This," I said, "is practical parenting for our inner children. They saw something pretty, and went wild for it. But sometimes, what these inner little brats we've raised need is a good spanking and the word 'No'".
"Yeah," said d.
There was one of those movie pauses that occasionally passes between a couple.
"Really?!" I asked, a little incredulous.
"Maybe," said d. "I mean....yeah, maybe...."
"Wow," I said, blinking blankly. "We really are growing up, aren't we?"
She looked at me.
"Some of us have been here for a while, baby," she said kindly. "But I know what you mean..."
BUT...
See, the thing is, d and I have many things in common, not the least of which is an over-active anthropomorphic gland. Our fridge in London was called Sven. I swear in just a little while, the Garage will have a name too. If I tell you that when we first got together, my mother got d a gift of a teddy bear called Cariad, dressed in a Welsh T-shirt, and she took it back to the States with her, that's probably just regulation 'Falling In Love' goo, right?
If, on the other hand, I tell you that shortly after d moved over to London, we saw a tiny little bear looking abandoned at the register in a grocery store, and brought it home "so that Cariad can have a teddy bear of his own," I think we start to stray into "A Bit Mental" territory.
When he little bear 'announced' to us that his name was Bearly, and he was more the 'trouble-seeking younger brother' type than a teddy for a teddy, we may well be talking about men in white coats. And I wish I could tell you that was the maddest of it, but it sooooo isn't.
The car, we'd already decided, was called Ed.
I have no idea why. He just was.
"Aww..." said d over breakfast. "I can just see him, last night...he was preening, telling all the other cars he'd found a family to love him. He's expecting us back there any time now to pick him up and take him driving again. And he's so little, all the big BMWs and Volvos will bully him when we don't turn up. They'll think he was just making it up..."
I realise of course that to people with real problems, or children, this will come across as phenomenally stupid bullshit, but I have to tell you, it hit me right in the stomach.
"He'll be devastated," I nodded. "He'll be going 'They will come. They will...' all afternoon. And then when night falls and it gets cold and the other cars are laughing, he'll be crying. He won't understand why we didn't come. He'll feel so betrayed..."
"And then tonight, from where we live, when we go to bed, we'll jusssst about be able to hear him, crying at the Moon..."
If this is any measure of our madness, we'd already made plans to buy him a big blanket to 'sleep' under every night, in the Garage.
"Oh God, what have we done?" said d.
"He's never gonna trust humans again," I went on.
"Yeah...there's gonna be a little crank in his gear changes, he's gonna be like 'Yeah, you say you wanna go up, but I know what People are like. Say they love you, make you believe them, then leave you looking like a FOOL!..."
"We're not buying a car just to stop him being bullied!" she protested. "I'll go and kick his tyres before we do that, just to prove he's just a car!"
I raised my eyebrows at her.
"Oh God, forget I said that," she said. "I just felt a pang in my heart..."
We hurried home, and I distributed the car money - some to pay off some bills of d's, come to pay off a credit card bill, some for savings. This put the question out of reach - we no longer had the money to bring Ed home.
Still hurts to think of him there, I have to be honest. Did I mention, we're demented?
Still did nothing in the way of exercise today, except for the Aquacise and an hour in the gym...and had toast and pizza and a hot dog and shedloads of trail mix today. Tuesday's gonna be mad.
Listen!
Did you hear that??
The sound of a Smart car, crying at the Moon...
Acting like a Grown-Up SUCKS!
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