Starting this week out on Sunday with great
dread terror anxiety anticipation of preparing for “The Great Migration” on the coming Saturday, we dug right in and attacked the upstairs with a whirlwind of packing. Finally feeling like we were getting somewhere by Monday I was excited to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
And then… Monday evening the throat starts to ache, then hurt, then burn and I dared to take a peek at it and OMG! No!!!! Spots!!! That’s ok, we can deal with this, no big deal. Take some Cold F/X, top up the vitamin C, can’t be strep, just finished antibiotics for strep last week for crying out loud. S’All good. We can do this, I’m a tough biotch!!! No stupid sore throat can bring me down!!! Besides I’ve only got four days until “The Great Migration”. I am woman, hear me Roar!!!
Tuesday morning, as I
slowly drag my lazy butt cheerfully bounce out of bed, I think to myself, ‘what’s that I feel? Severe pain in the left tonsil area? Nope, can’t be’. I can ignore that, no problem. Body aching like someone beat me with a baseball bat, I can ignore that too. S’All good. We’ll just pop into town, grab some natural antibiotics… don’t want to be on pharmaceutical ones again too soon. And this shall all clear up no problem, right? Long story short… Wednesday morning I end up in ER with a tennis ball implanted in the left side of my throat and sunk down the side of my neck. The result of which left me so weak that standing for any period of time was difficult at best. Some good strong antibiotics combined with the natural ones (in theory anyway) and the improvement in the pain dept anyway was already noticeable by Thursday afternoon. Lock jaw on the other hand continues to ensure that my waist line keeps shrinking… who’s complaining? Not I **wink**… LOL!
The week for packing was definitely short lived and completely shot out of the water after Monday though. By Tuesday afternoon I knew there was no way on God’s green earth I was going to be able to get the house ready for “The Great Migration” on Saturday, never mind the buyer’s possession date of April 1st. So with great frustration I call my Realtor and great friend and
whisper rasp request a change of possession by one week. But in the words of the dear Scarlett O'Hara, "After all... tomorrow is another day."
In the midst of all this an
insufferable obnoxious user old roommate* showed up looking for belongings from my trailer and my storage unit. She gave me no notice, just called and said, ‘hi I’m here I want my things’; Expecting me to jump for joy at her arrival, rushing to do her bidding with expressions of elation. Now remember I’m quite ill and can barely take care of my own family right now, never mind moving furniture and boxes unrelated to my own move. I did manage to put her off for most of the week, however with her cunning ability to twist reality she convince the storage unit owner to cut the lock on Friday. At this point I was ready to rush off and hide at a friend’s house to avoid her invading my home as well, but decided it was time to rid myself of the unwanted human clutter in my life. I was feeling much stronger and with a clenched grin I finally bid the obnoxious abuser old chum and her rubbish cast-offs junk furniture and other items stored in my home and storage unit, a finale adieu.
On a sad note, this same Friday brought some sad news for a very good friend that has already gone through more than a person should have to over the past few months. While still away from her home at her favourite grandmother’s funeral she received news that her home had burned down. The blessing is that no one was hurt in the blaze, most of the family was away at the time and the two that were home that night got out in time. My heart goes out to them as they begin the rebuilding of not just their house and home but their lives in the midst of already grieving for the loss of their beloved grandmother.
Blessings to all, may Angels Watch Over You!!!
*This is a long story going on over a period since late 2006 that I shall not bore you with. However suffice to say that I have never been so badly hurt or so poorly used by someone that called me a friend. Let me rephrase that, at least not since junior high school!!!! Considering I am now 39 and although like to joke about not being grown up, still consider myself fairly mature, but this woman is more than 11 years my senior!!! Go figure... live and learn!