Here’s the story of goop, hell, and cardboard.
You know you’re from a strange family when you discover mother and father fighting with cardboard tubes. I would like to point out that it was a play fight; they didn’t decide to have an argument with cardboard tubes. No, they were just watching television, and then suddenly, decided to start play fighting… with cardboard tubes. I’m not entirely sure how that mayhem started, but all I know is that when I got downstairs, disturbed by the noise, there was before me a scene of total devastation. Actually, it wasn’t the noise of the tubes hitting each other that disturbed me, it was the sound of father falling on the floor after mother had knocked him off the sofa. Again, I’m not sure how they ended up on the sofas. All I know is this. You cannot stay married for 42 years without having a cardboard tube fight once in a while. And that’s a top tip, readers.
Of course, it’s commonly believed you get less fun as the increasingly callous winds of time scrape over your increasingly callus skin. I beg to differ. If two 63-year-olds can find the time to hit each other with cardboard tubes, in what can only be described as the most epic sword battle in history, then I think they are having more fun than us young ones. We think having constant promiscuous relations and getting high is fun, but hitting someone with a cardboard tube, sending them hurtling into the air and landing next to what was Fortress Sofa, is a memory that will last you a lifetime. Trust me on that. You won’t remember the one night stand with Jenny who wore so much makeup that she could survive a nuclear blast. Unless you happen to be caught in a nuclear blast, then she could come in pretty handy.
They’re like this all the time, my parents. People always complain about their parents, but mine have done nothing but make me laugh for 24 years. Laughter is the best medicine, that’s what they say. I don’t know whom this ‘they’ is, mind. Clearly not doctors. I mean, if you have just contracted malaria and somebody tells you to laugh, then I don’t think you’ll feel much better at all. I completely undermined my own point there, so I’m not sure where to go from here. I need a distraction. Ooh, look over there! No, seriously! Hmm? Go on now. No? Oh, sod it.
I’m actually writing this post on my side since I’ve gone deaf in one ear. I’ve also suffered a migraine and a sugar crash this week, and a nasty incident with an ice-cube tray, leaving me in all kinds of disorientation. I don’t know what I’ve done to my ear. All I know is that I’ve just filled it with water and now I’m trying to drain it. If it’s not a pleasant image I’m painting, that’s because it isn’t. You see, when I’m suffering with an ailment, I like to make everyone else acutely aware of what’s going on. And coming out of me. Just to give you a sense of perspective. Because, you know, there’ll be people reading this worrying about their hair, nails or the television signal. Well, I HAVE THICK BROWN GOOP COMING OUT OF MY EAR!
It’s incredible how much something like this affects you. Leaves you tired. Dizzy. Confused. Sad. On top of a sugar crash that damn near finished me off, and a vicious migraine. It’s like being in a car crash, and then, as you wake up behind the wheel of your car, another car hits you, and then another. I’m not quite aware of what’s happening at the moment, to be honest.
Basically, to sum up, my body this week has simply fallen apart. Oh, did I mention the nosebleed? No? Ah. I had one of those too. And another. Oh, and another.
I should probably go to the doctors, but if I didn’t go after last year’s seven migraines in five days, I sure as hell aint going now. Well, I thought it was something serious, so I’m surprised I’m still here, to be honest. I thought I’d have flown off to the great tea factory in the sky, by now. That’s where I’d like to end up.
The ice-cube tray was the last card in the deck, for me. I was just coming out of the nasty sugar crash, caused by my constantly low blood sugar. It leaves me in a bad place. I just wanted a nice cold drink. And what happens? The bloody ice-cube tray snapped in half, that’s what. I mean, who makes an ice-cube tray out of plastic? It was about at that point I fancied having a bit of a weep.
Mouldy ear, bloody nose, migraine, severe sugar crash, and a broken ice-cube tray. Oh, and I twisted my knee, it did that thing where it goes all stiff and when you straighten it, it pops, and then you cannot walk without being in agony for weeks. Is it safe to say this past week has been a complete and utter waste of time? Feels that way. I’m extremely tired and miserable. And as a result, if you don’t mind, I want to wrap up this post before I fall asleep in my own goop.
Watching mother and father always makes me smile. They’ve known each other for 55 years. That’s incredible. They are always a reminder to me that no matter what hell I find myself in, anyone can get out of it. If they still have it in them to hit each other with cardboard tubes, whilst laughing uncontrollably, after 55 years, then I think I’ll be okay.
And now it’s time to lay down my head and go to sl- oh no! I’ve lain in the ear goop!
American author, Jarod Kintz (b. 1983), once said: “If we spoke with our ears, and listened though our mouth, then a kiss might be the most romantic sound in the world.”
Peace Out :|:
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