[Scene] I have a headache. I had a non-restful night of non-sleep. Various tradespeople are coming this morning as Mum is getting things done. They were all coming at 9am. I desperately wanted us to do something as a family instead I felt the need to (finally) clean our bathroom floor and the shutters in our room and then totally lose my shit at the family to help clean up.
Then I came over all teary (no my period is no due. shut up.) and sort of collapsed onto the bed in a fit of black dog I’ve raised lazy good-for-nothing slobs and my husband is feckin’ uselss self-pity.
I turn on my laptop and it says Chef (who is down the backroom dodging bullets of bile from his crazy wife) is on Skype.
… and action:
[10:28:28 AM] Me: I want to do something fun as a family.
[10:28:38 AM] Me: but my head hurts and I can’t stop crying.
[10:29:05 AM] Chef: Did you take any drugs
[10:29:22 AM] Me: nope.
[10:29:29 AM] Me: and I forgot my meds last night too.
[10:29:48 AM] Chef: That was silly
[10:29:49 AM] Me: and then I had stressful dreams about intermingled things I read on Facebook yesterday
[10:30:11 AM] Me: and us owning three recliners in the one room like ____
[10:30:13 AM] Chef: Facebook is evil
[10:31:23 AM] Me: and it was all set in a coffee shop where I was hopped up on bad coffee and feeling sick from so many milky beverages
[10:31:58 AM] Chef: Imaging the fighting for the third recliner
[10:33:15 AM] Chef: ___ and ___ have two recliners in one room. Is that not as bad. Is three the tipping point
[10:34:38 AM] Chef: Was it the coffe shop from neighbors or Alfs shop on home and away
and the black cloud went poof! into thin air