Drugs, Opera and phone calls.
I could also call this post 'The Great Shame.'
I was in agony yesterday, not too long after I posted my last comment I had what can only be described as a spasam, or the devil poked me in the spine with his tri-thingy.
I don't have the word to describe the pain, ouch doesn't really do it. Perhaps giving birth to a walrus might be as painful. Naturally to combat this I-in a fit of cursing and swearing and agonising self pity -decided to self medicate. So I crawled to the kitchen, swallowed a few Spanish pain killers and decided I"d drown them with a bottle of rioja.
I hauled my ass back to the sofa, settled in to watch The Sopranos, drank a glass of wine... and after that it all becomes a bit of a blur.
But apparently I put on some opera and in the middle of Vide Cor Meum-
Rang the Paramour, professing deep love and a willingness to bear his children that I have not previously professed-including descriptions and names of said children.
Called Etheline- professing a great love for her and all our family I may have snivelled something about that Kevin not being good enough for her...
Called my mother and profesed a great sadness that we can not get along and that I understood all her horrible ways deep down, more snivelling and I believe I 'forgave' her' for being a terrible mother
Called my brother and said I loved him and his new wife and that even though I was miffed at not being asked to his wedding I totally understood.
Called my eldest sister and professed a deep love and understanding of her and announced that she was probably the best mother on the planet and -weeping - said she was sooooo luckey to beeeee soooo happy-sniff sniff- and I reallllly loved the children and planned on having some with the paramour who I also loooooved more than life itself.
Called Country Gay, professed deep love and eternal friendship and wept over the futility of his search for love and said that no matter what, 'I'd alway love him' Lucky him.
Called lifelong friend professed deep and eternal love for her, claimed she was a sister in every other way other than blood, snivelled, dribbled, took another slug of wine.
Called French Gay-mercifully he was out, but I'm fairly certain I left a message professing deep and unadulterated love. Dropped phone.
Then I hugged the bigger of the cats, weeping into his fur, professed deep love for said cat-who was eyeing me suspiciously- lay back down, admired roof, trollied off my face, listened to opera, marvelled at purity of voices, pondered life, hugged self, drained last of wine, said to bigger of cat-who at this stage had given up trying to get away- 'hey, you know what buddy? My back doesn't-
and that's where I woke up this morning at 7:20, stiff, but free of back pain!
My cyber friends, only for the fact that I could not sit up, many of you would have opened your blogs today and witnessed a stream of witless offerings of love from me. My phone has rang here a few times this morning and I'm fairly certain if I check the messages I will blush eighteen shade of puce. The wost of it is I seem to have apologised to my mother and insulted her as well, so who knows where the hell that will lead.
I am a tool, but at least I am a tool sin dolor! Huzzah.