The exploding head-and a black eye, too...

Technically, it is one and a half black eyes. Now you know why my mother didn't call me Grace.

On Friday morning (only three days into the noxious Ciprofloxacin, so it wasn't working yet) I went to the kitchen cabinet to get some Excedrin-I've had the mother of all headaches since this flu thing developed. And what did I do? I noticed that there was one sideways movement that made me feel a little dizzy, so I repeated the movement a few times, then opened the cupboard door-right into my face. Bang, wallop, I smacked myself really hard. And did I ever swear!

I did this once before: when I had the old kitchen, I did the exact same thing: I opened the door absent-mindedly, and smacked myself right in the face. Only the last time, it was on the other side. So never let it be said that I play favorites. I am an equal-opportunity smacker...and I have the shiner to prove it. And what a whacking big shiner it is, too.

So I then had to go to see my GP for my usual monthly update. I walked into the office, went up to the receptionist-and she just looked at me, wide-eyed. "Oh", I said, "you should see the other guy. But the other guy", I added hastily, "happens to be a door."  She laughed, I laughed, I went in to see Margaret, and all she said when she looked at me was "what? again?". Now I feel like a real klutz. And Margaret told me to be more careful when I am doing anything with doors. And walls. And-anywhere.

So don't you know-yesterday I did the same thing, only I didn't whack myself completely, just right above my eye. What an oops! Luckily I didn't have to go anywhere, so I have been rubbing in the Arnica to bring the swellings down. Arnica: great stuff for bruises, I can tell you. I've got tubes of Arnica stashed everywhere- that is because I keep forgetting where I put them. CRS again: can't remember shit. I'm blaming it on being 80% antibiotics, rather than being middle-aged. Eighty per cent antibiotics, twenty percent Kettle Chips. And Kettle Chips are good for you, according to the hospital dietician. Now I'm getting hungry...

The tiles started to fall off the bathroom walls-very exciting-and it has taken since October for the landlord to send someone in to fix the problem. So I am hearing a lot of banging and crashing as all the tiles are being removed. The walls either need replacing or need replastering-or both. Then new tiles need to be put back on. It's a two day job. Between Mulalley and the landlord's lot, my patience is being tried to the limit. But-at the end of the ordeal (or, rather, ordeals) I should be able to walk into the bathroom without wondering if a wall is going to fall on my head. And I should be able to get all the kitchen stuff put somewhere in the kitchen, rather than everywhere else. It will feel so strange to have a place that even looks a little bit like a home.

I'm going to sign off now-I just heard a huge crash coming from the bathroom, and I need to see if  a wall fell on the poor workman's head. Never mind, though: I can do CPR. Practice, anyone?