Day 115
I’m still flat on my back
Under normal circumstances I’d jump at the opportunity to stay in bed all day with a couple of movies and the laptop. As you’re aware from yesterday’s post, not only are these decidedly abnormal circumstances but also jumping is not an action I’ll be making for quite some time.
Other than another slow and very painful trip to the toilet I’ve remained in that position all day.
Mrs. Snowman went out early to get a few things for me and came back with a couple of poker magazines, a packet of cigarettes, a bag of chocolate covered biscuits shaped like little zoo animals and an unidentified object in a brown paper bag described as “something to make you better”.
Three of these purchases had the intention, and indeed effect, of cheering me up, while the fourth caused a slightly different reaction.
I can’t work out if my good lady wife was genuinely concerned for my well-being or was simply being sadistic in return for my prostitute remark yesterday. Whatever the reason, I was presented with a can of spray she’d got from a local pharmacy that the assistant told her would give me temporary respite from my condition.
As I don’t want to get sued, I shall not give you the brand name but the active ingredient is something called ‘salicylate”.
It confidently announces in friendly looking text that it provides “fast relief from muscular aches and strains”. To give you an idea of the kind of relief it initially offered, the manufacturers might like to re-market it under the name:
“Arggghhhhhh…FUUUUUUCK !”
It feels ice cold when first sprayed on and then rapidly heats to a temperature approaching that of the surface of the sun.
Insofar that it took my mind off the primary pain and replaced it with another one, it was a completely successful treatment.
It also gave off an astonishingly pungent clinical odour that left me spluttering for air.
The only positive aspect is that it’s affected my nasal receptors to such a level that I may quite easily be unable to detect any other smell for weeks. However, the thought of not being able to smell Small Child fills me with a warm feeling almost as potent as that of the spray itself.
The only other positive thing is that Mrs. Snowman finds it even more repulsive than I do.
So far I’ve sprayed the sheets on her side of the bed twenty-six times since she got back. I might even ask if she’ll nip out and get another couple of cans.
Even though I didn’t feel in the mood to play any poker, I still entered a couple of tournaments to try and relieve the boredom.
I found a dinky little 10-cent game and followed it up with a freeroll later in the afternoon. Surprisingly the first one had very few donkeys taking part and for two and a half hours I quite a nice time. I didn’t make the money (which was hardly worth it anyway unless I finished in the top three) but the banter being bounced around the chat-box was a lot of fun.
The freeroll, on the other hand, had its usual compliment of maniacs and I managed to avoid them for almost fifty minutes until I was out-drawn on a flush by a Jack over card.
I’ll try to find another 10-cent game tomorrow and even if I don’t make the cash, I shall still use it as a diversion from my current condition.
To give you some idea of how bored I was during the day when not playing poker, I spent half an hour with a pencil and paper working out anagrams from “salicylate”. I’m sure there’s a combination of drugs and elements that make sense to someone like my brother-in-law, but a research chemist with a warped sense of humor could just as easily have named it.
For something that, on the surface, appears to be inviting and innocuous but causes so much discomfort it came as no real shock to find that when the letters were re-arranged it revealed “Alley Cats I”.
Another point arising from my lexicography was when Mrs. Snowman first used the stuff on me.
She depressed the nozzle for such a long period of time that a little puddle of spray gathered around the base of my spine and tricked down into my arse cleavage. I won’t give you the unpleasant details of what happened next but another anagram of the stuff is:
“Lace ya slit”.
I’m sure you get the picture.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $4.04
Under normal circumstances I’d jump at the opportunity to stay in bed all day with a couple of movies and the laptop. As you’re aware from yesterday’s post, not only are these decidedly abnormal circumstances but also jumping is not an action I’ll be making for quite some time.
Other than another slow and very painful trip to the toilet I’ve remained in that position all day.
Mrs. Snowman went out early to get a few things for me and came back with a couple of poker magazines, a packet of cigarettes, a bag of chocolate covered biscuits shaped like little zoo animals and an unidentified object in a brown paper bag described as “something to make you better”.
Three of these purchases had the intention, and indeed effect, of cheering me up, while the fourth caused a slightly different reaction.
I can’t work out if my good lady wife was genuinely concerned for my well-being or was simply being sadistic in return for my prostitute remark yesterday. Whatever the reason, I was presented with a can of spray she’d got from a local pharmacy that the assistant told her would give me temporary respite from my condition.
As I don’t want to get sued, I shall not give you the brand name but the active ingredient is something called ‘salicylate”.
It confidently announces in friendly looking text that it provides “fast relief from muscular aches and strains”. To give you an idea of the kind of relief it initially offered, the manufacturers might like to re-market it under the name:
“Arggghhhhhh…FUUUUUUCK !”
It feels ice cold when first sprayed on and then rapidly heats to a temperature approaching that of the surface of the sun.
Insofar that it took my mind off the primary pain and replaced it with another one, it was a completely successful treatment.
It also gave off an astonishingly pungent clinical odour that left me spluttering for air.
The only positive aspect is that it’s affected my nasal receptors to such a level that I may quite easily be unable to detect any other smell for weeks. However, the thought of not being able to smell Small Child fills me with a warm feeling almost as potent as that of the spray itself.
The only other positive thing is that Mrs. Snowman finds it even more repulsive than I do.
So far I’ve sprayed the sheets on her side of the bed twenty-six times since she got back. I might even ask if she’ll nip out and get another couple of cans.
Even though I didn’t feel in the mood to play any poker, I still entered a couple of tournaments to try and relieve the boredom.
I found a dinky little 10-cent game and followed it up with a freeroll later in the afternoon. Surprisingly the first one had very few donkeys taking part and for two and a half hours I quite a nice time. I didn’t make the money (which was hardly worth it anyway unless I finished in the top three) but the banter being bounced around the chat-box was a lot of fun.
The freeroll, on the other hand, had its usual compliment of maniacs and I managed to avoid them for almost fifty minutes until I was out-drawn on a flush by a Jack over card.
I’ll try to find another 10-cent game tomorrow and even if I don’t make the cash, I shall still use it as a diversion from my current condition.
To give you some idea of how bored I was during the day when not playing poker, I spent half an hour with a pencil and paper working out anagrams from “salicylate”. I’m sure there’s a combination of drugs and elements that make sense to someone like my brother-in-law, but a research chemist with a warped sense of humor could just as easily have named it.
For something that, on the surface, appears to be inviting and innocuous but causes so much discomfort it came as no real shock to find that when the letters were re-arranged it revealed “Alley Cats I”.
Another point arising from my lexicography was when Mrs. Snowman first used the stuff on me.
She depressed the nozzle for such a long period of time that a little puddle of spray gathered around the base of my spine and tricked down into my arse cleavage. I won’t give you the unpleasant details of what happened next but another anagram of the stuff is:
“Lace ya slit”.
I’m sure you get the picture.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $4.04