I Should Have Stayed In Bed

I Should Have Stayed In Bed

I won’t say what else can go wrong, but that’s how I feel

Photo by Ricky Rew on Unsplash

My toes are still bruised from my 3.5 km walk on Saturday. And I’ve woken up with a huge sore lump in my armpit, but I clambered out of bed to keep Tiernan away from Keeley while she records the oral part of her assignment, which she finished this morning around 2.30. That’s 2.30 am.

She’s completely out of drugs, so I’m given the task of getting her scripts filled and getting a few groceries. I don’t fucking know how she runs out completely. With my painful feet, I’m not looking forward to doing that. But it has to be done. No bread. No milk. No fruit.

It’s raining ropes again, and I did see a few cats and dogs fall out of the sky as well. I complain to anyone who’ll listen. “I’m sick of this ridiculous rain,” I say to myself.

I get in the car and put my foot on the brake. Squish squish squish. The car won’t respond. I go inside and say to Keeley, “There’s something wrong with the car.”

“Do you have the key?” I didn’t answer. She comes out and tries to start it. Squish squish squish on the brake.

“There’s something wrong with the car.” She drove it to and from Kindy this morning with no problems. She calls roadside assistance. They’ll be out within the hour.

Meanwhile, she says she’s manic and starts building the Ikea bunk beds for the boys. Gung-ho, bull at a gate- that’s her. She gets to page 3 of the instructions and finds a wrong board. She calls Ikea. Car is now roadworthy — it needed a new battery — so off we go to Ikea. They give her a $50 voucher. It’s now time to pick up Caelin from Kindy, so I drop the tribe home and head to the chemist and supermarket. I have to be super quick as I have a podiatrist appointment at 3.30. I’m going to be pushing it.

But I make it — just in time. It’s 3.28. I walk in, “I’ve got a 3.30 appointment with P… beginning to say his name… when I realised I was at the wrong fucking place. It’s the place I normally visit, but my feet were in urgent need of attention, and this was the only time available — at the other clinic. Oh, shit, and off I go. I drive the whole length of Robertson Road and can’t find it. Have I got the right street? I ring my normal clinic and ask the lovely receptionist what street the other clinic is on. “Hamilton Road.”

By the time I get there, it’s 3.48, and I apologise to Peter for my lateness. I hope he doesn’t have a 4 o’clock patient. Phew! He doesn’t. He looks at my feet and asks how long they have been like this. Since Saturday… I walked 3.5km! My toes all feel really bruised.

“Not only that,” he says, “you’ve got an abscess on this toe.” No wonder it’s sore. He had to pierce it and drain it, and apply an antiseptic/ antibiotic cream. I was really pleased I had made the effort.

I made it home with drugs and groceries intact. Tiernan is screaming for bloody blueberries. I give him a bowl of yoghurt and blueberries and unload the rest of the groceries. Keeley has enlisted Jamie’s help in making the bunk beds. The kids are so excited, and they won’t leave her alone. “You’re in charge of the kids.” I put a pizza on to cook and serve the boys and myself. They take one bite and take off back into the bedroom to get in the way of the bunk-making process.

I walk downstairs in the pouring rain to grab a bottle of red from my cabin. I pour myself a large glass. It's a West Australian Pinot Noir and perfect with the pizza. I eat and drink and collapse into bed. I should have fucking stayed there this morning.

The Bunk Bed My photo

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