Thursday, May 6, 2010

Walking with crossed legs

Murphy has dared to show his ugly mug around here again.  I thought I'd banned him for good, but I was sadly mistaken.  One cold wet rainy morning, after raining solidly for about 15 hours all night, the bastard reappeared.  I jumped into my car all innocent-like, turned the key in the ignition and it just went click.  With a list of things to do as long as my arm, and of course, school in the morning, the last thing I could afford to be without was my car.  Trudging on the sinking slippery mud is no joke.  I reckon it's easier to walk on ice.  The mud sticks to your shoes and makes it difficult to lift up your feet, and then you have to be extra-careful where you place your feet, as a wrong placement will result in you slipping backwards into a puddle.  Murphy made sure that I had to wade through mud to get to school, and once there, I phoned the mechanic to fetch my car.  A new clutch plate, engine mounting and battery later, several hundred dollars out of pocket and three days without a car, made life interesting to say the least.  Especially as I was busy tring to organise a swimming gala for over 200 kids at the time.  Oh well, I survived, so that's all that counts.

I have discovered if I play music loudly, I drown out the barking, yapping, whining dog across the road.  I find it hard to focus with that dog working overtime to give me a headache. 

Why is it that we always have to pee at the most inopportune time?  My bladder never quite survived being used as a trampoline during my three pregnancies.  In the middle of this huge swimming gala, I suddenly realised that I had to pee.  Unfortunately, I had to try and rediscover my pelvic floor muscles and practice those exercises that the urologist gave me last June which I hadn't yet gotten around to practising yet.  Somehow, I managed to walk to my classroom after the gala to sort the medals.  However, it was in leaving the classroom that I hit problems.  Major problems.  Everytime I stood up, I could feel gravity take over and because I had to squeeze my pelvic muscles so hard, I couldn't move my legs at all.  So there I was, standing in the middle of my classroom, unable to proceed or retreat.  Eventually, with sweat pouring down my brow from the concerted effort of not overflowing, I managed to lean forward and pull a chair towards me.  I hurriedly sat down and focused on once again gaining control of the leaky bladder.  When I thought I had got it together again, I once again attempted standing up and walking to my classroom door.  I got a few steps and knew I couldn't do it.  Unfortunately, the chair was now to far away for me to reach.  I was stuck, stranded.  A kid came in to tell me that they were waiting for me on the field for the start of the football tournament.  I smiled, or rather grimaced, and pretending to be studying something in the folder I had in my hands, all the while wondering how I was going to manage to escape this predicament.  I have to confess, as disgusting as this might sound, I did momentarily contemplate the sink next to the classroom window, but with no curtains in my classroom and many kids wandering around, I quickly discarded that dsturbing thought.  Eventually, I gritted my teeth and managed to speed walk with crossed legs to the bathroom.  The moral of the story is, when you get to be an old woman like me, don't leave relieving your bladder if you feel the urge, because it doesn't much to take you beyond the beyond.  I was seriously beyond the beyond.

This week Siobhan has been stayng in Marangu working at the Marangu Hotel for her work experience.  I have taken advantage of the peace and quiet at home, no having to watch movies on my laptop, and have managed to finish the first draft of my book, Not Telling.  Now, I eagerly await my dear friend and editor, Rob Stark, to finish the editing so I can revise.  We had a power surge a week or so ago which blew the new dvd player I bought on our visit to Dar-es-Salaam and Siobhan's Wii.  This was even with the regulator.  Our next door neighbour's TV blew.  It actually exploded because she didn't have a regulator.  We're not having too much luck with electronics, considering that Siobhan's macbook has never worked after I accidentally knocked my diet coke on it.

Five more weeks of school and I have my Grade 5 Exhibition to get through and reports and the yearbook, so flat-out busy and then our long drive to Cape Town!  Plus of course, the revising of Not Telling!  Oh well, better to be busy than bored.

Have a great weekend!


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