Day 80
I can take it no longer.
If I have to spend another day confined to my sick bed I’m liable to either explode or end it all by deliberately not blowing my nose and drowning to death in my own mucus.
Consequently, I managed get up in the early afternoon, wallow in a hot bath for an hour and dress myself in a clean set of clothes. By the time the current Mrs. Snowman got home from work I was languishing on the sofa with a beer in my hand and “Batman Returns” in the DVD.
Luckily she was rather tired after a hard day so the tongue-lashing was kept to a minimum, plus my ears haven’t popped for three days and I only really caught the high pitched swearing. I tried pointing out that I was feeling much better, the proof of which could be clearly seen, as I was well enough to indulge in light alcoholic refreshment. Mrs. Snowman responded by telling me I was talking bullshit and said given half the chance I would fix myself up with an intravenous drip of Southern Comfort given half the chance.
I found it difficult to counter that one.
With hindsight I may have been pushing my luck a fraction too far by asking if she wanted to go to the club and play our regular Friday night poker game. Under the circumstances I guess her answer was quite reserved:
“Only if you want me to cut your dick off and shove it up your backside while you’re asleep”.
Charming.
We stayed in tonight.
It was a relatively quiet evening until Surrogate Daughter decided she wanted to have a shower before dinner. Usually this devastating piece of news wouldn’t find its way into these pages but today it does.
Without being given a chance to object, she announced her intentions and thrust Small Child towards me before disappearing upstairs.
I held the revolting creature at arms length before the wife explained I should be clasping it against my shoulder. I realize I should have known better and rather than putting it on the carpet I complied with the request.
A guttural baby noise resonated in my ear and I assumed everything was ok as a little arm clung on to my neck. A hiccup followed, the wife smiled…
And it was sick all down my back.
Rather than being mind blazingly repulsive, Mrs. Snowman acted like it was a bonding experience that would enhance my life forever:
“Awww, she’s showing you that she loves you”
Oh yeah? What does it do if it really likes me? Shit on my head?
Needless to say I requisitioned the shower before Daughter had a chance to get in there first.
It was for this reason that I missed the only freeroll of the day, only to discover later that Mrs. Snowman had played it and been eliminated in a little under ten minutes.
I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t make the money.
I would never have heard the last of it.
Next Friday I don’t care if my internal organs have succumbed to some kind of debilitating viral infection and both my legs have fallen off. I’ll be playing the game at my local club. I’ll do anything not to go through that again.
I’ll drag myself along the road on my stomach if necessary.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0
If I have to spend another day confined to my sick bed I’m liable to either explode or end it all by deliberately not blowing my nose and drowning to death in my own mucus.
Consequently, I managed get up in the early afternoon, wallow in a hot bath for an hour and dress myself in a clean set of clothes. By the time the current Mrs. Snowman got home from work I was languishing on the sofa with a beer in my hand and “Batman Returns” in the DVD.
Luckily she was rather tired after a hard day so the tongue-lashing was kept to a minimum, plus my ears haven’t popped for three days and I only really caught the high pitched swearing. I tried pointing out that I was feeling much better, the proof of which could be clearly seen, as I was well enough to indulge in light alcoholic refreshment. Mrs. Snowman responded by telling me I was talking bullshit and said given half the chance I would fix myself up with an intravenous drip of Southern Comfort given half the chance.
I found it difficult to counter that one.
With hindsight I may have been pushing my luck a fraction too far by asking if she wanted to go to the club and play our regular Friday night poker game. Under the circumstances I guess her answer was quite reserved:
“Only if you want me to cut your dick off and shove it up your backside while you’re asleep”.
Charming.
We stayed in tonight.
It was a relatively quiet evening until Surrogate Daughter decided she wanted to have a shower before dinner. Usually this devastating piece of news wouldn’t find its way into these pages but today it does.
Without being given a chance to object, she announced her intentions and thrust Small Child towards me before disappearing upstairs.
I held the revolting creature at arms length before the wife explained I should be clasping it against my shoulder. I realize I should have known better and rather than putting it on the carpet I complied with the request.
A guttural baby noise resonated in my ear and I assumed everything was ok as a little arm clung on to my neck. A hiccup followed, the wife smiled…
And it was sick all down my back.
Rather than being mind blazingly repulsive, Mrs. Snowman acted like it was a bonding experience that would enhance my life forever:
“Awww, she’s showing you that she loves you”
Oh yeah? What does it do if it really likes me? Shit on my head?
Needless to say I requisitioned the shower before Daughter had a chance to get in there first.
It was for this reason that I missed the only freeroll of the day, only to discover later that Mrs. Snowman had played it and been eliminated in a little under ten minutes.
I suppose I should be grateful she didn’t make the money.
I would never have heard the last of it.
Next Friday I don’t care if my internal organs have succumbed to some kind of debilitating viral infection and both my legs have fallen off. I’ll be playing the game at my local club. I’ll do anything not to go through that again.
I’ll drag myself along the road on my stomach if necessary.
Starting bank: $0
Current bank: $0