After finally getting the kids to bed by 2200hrs (don’t judge me. Besides, all 3 were out of bed, screaming their heads off by 0700hrs), I had a lovely bath and settled in for an early night.
It never works like that, though, does it? Lovefilm had sent us one of the Breaking Bad DVDs, so me and The Boss decided to compromise between a much-needed early night and a much-wanted DVD-a-thon. So we watched one episode. Afterwards, The Boss stumbled into the bathroom for a quick teeth-brush before sleep.
I know I’ve moaned before about his love of decorating Every. Single. Empty. Surface. in the house with Stuff. I spend hours clearing a surface (I like empty surfaces); he immediately takes a few minutes to cover it in rubbish. Anyway, when we came back from holiday, the windowsill of the bathroom was empty. By the time he went in to the bathroom to clean his teeth, it was covered. He knocked over a glass bottle that he’d dumped on the windowsill, and tried to snatch it before it fell. Unfortunately, he grabbed his razor – which he’d also dumped on the windowsill – and sliced the top of his finger off.
It took about half an hour for the bleeding to subside and for me to stop mocking him. Within that, it took about 20 minutes for me to remember that, actually, he’s really, really rubbish around the sight of blood, and that maybe he might faint. The remaining 10 minutes were spent bickering about what kind of dressing he needed. He favoured the sliver-thin, invisible, tiny plaster; I preferred the monster dressing-and-bandage, topped with a tied bow, cartoon-stylee. Given that it really didn’t want to stop oozing blood despite over 10 minutes of direct pressure and holding above his head, I won. I swapped the bandage for sticky Omnifix instead, though, because I’m a truly loving wife and actually feel really sorry for him.
So neither of us has had much sleep. Again. As for a possible tetanus injection requirement, I think I might as well phone and book a GP for an entire morning to sort us all out: all 5 of us need to see a GP for various bits and bobs that really aren’t urgent at all, but probably shouldn’t be ignored. Wouldn’t it be great if I could count up all the issues that I need to discuss with a GP, and book a corresponding number of adjoining appointments with one GP, ship the zoo along to the surgery, and get it all over and done with in a oner?!
Ah well, tomorrow promises to be a better day