135. The good wife

Oh soddit! It’s 1.30 in the morning. My husband has removed himself to another room where he seems to be vomiting constantly. Bear in mind my phobia and you can imagine how supportive I’m being. We’re apologising to each other - him for upsetting me, me for being unhelpful! With his refusal to go to the doctors and compulsion to see everything in terms of cancer, things don’t augur well in the Brown household over the next few days. Plus it’s the weekend. How do you see a GP?? By the time I convince him, all emergency appointments right over in Guiseley will be gone. Plus, could I allow him in the car AND drive safely?

Today I started Day 1 of my Flash Weekender course. https://www.retreatwest.co.uk/flash-weekender

Two great stories to inspire us, illustrating the points they wanted to make and two prompts: a 500 word story based on a fight or quarrel we’ve experienced and a 400 word story based on memories. Ok, I can honestly say I have never been in a fight and have only witnessed pupils fighting in my whole life. No one fought when I was at school and I never went around with people who fought, not even at university, tho I believe Dennis got into a lot of fights in his Hall of Residence. Fortunately he’d grown out of it by the time I got to know him. As for rows, I’ve never rowed (except online). I might get snide or bicker but I walk away from unhealthy argument. Can’t handle it. Dennis and I never row - how can I row with someone who knows he’s right and just smiles? Maybe a row will break out tomorrow when he refuses medical aid (I didn’t mention the pain under his ribs). Eventually I recalled a brief but spectacular row my brother had with my dad, embroidered it a lot and had a story called Sunday Dinner. I posted it just to get rid of the damned thing after reducing it from 750 to 500 words. Editing is a painful process.

Story 2 is A Shop to Remember. Memories for me are usually painful and I tend to see it from a negative perspective, No way was I going anywhere near my own memories. So I created almost a fairy tale (in the Grimm Brothers’ style) about a shop where you could, for a price, dump bad memories - with a caveat emptor: everything in the memory was permanently obliterated. People didn’t listen and left with no idea who they were - but they were happy. Hmm. Not a price I’d pay, I think, though I’m being tested to the limits right now. If only he’d fall asleep!!!

Thursday (is it only a day ago??) I popped in to see Liz and get advice on my burgeoning chemocurls. I could see she was itching to snip off the long bits, the original survivors. I’ve felt they’ve deserved appreciation but I could see her point and I was beginning to look at bit Hobbity (in my opinion) so I let her snip and asked her to cut into the curls to relieve the thickness a bit. Result: a huge smile, a huge hug and a very happy bunny with a hairstyle that looks deliberate:

Do you think I might sleep if I shove my head under a pillow?