Man Concussion 2 – The Return of the Chairs

To understand this post you need to know that I have written two previous posts; Man Concussion & Oldylocks and the Three Chairs.  Actually to understand this blog you need to disengage the sensible part of you brain and give in to the demented.

I love that thought!  Lets all give in to the demented for a while.

Were you dancing around the room naked with a big club hitting invisible monsters on the head yelling “Ha, so there!”?

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Only me?

OK!

It has been 15 days since I wrote a blog.  I may have forgotten how!  Can you read this?

Is this making any sense?

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What do you mean it never does?

Really,, well back to normal then; well not normal but I assume you know what I mean.

Why have I been gone so long?

Well it could be because while recovering from his man-concussion Gavin may have gotten a second.

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It wasn’t all my fault!

Okay I did go to the bathroom, without stapling him into a safe place.  Mea culpa!

So I’m in the bathroom & I hear the tinkling of breaking glass.  My reaction was “Oh thank God, Gav & the kids aren’t made of glass, if they broke it would be more a loud thud.” I was wrong!

Next there was knocking on the door; “Lisa, Gavin’s fallen.”

“I’m hurrying!” I replied.

Cut to Alex standing, gibbering in a pool of broken ceramic & coffee; hot coffee as I later found out.  I pushed a chair to Alex and kind of knocked it into her so she fell/sat on it and got her to pull her feet up.  Then I convinced the raving loon to go to her bed.

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Faye started sweeping up the shards of gorgeous little cup and I went to Gavin who was unresponsive face down in the shards & hot coffee.  The chair leg had snapped; same set as the one that broke under Mum.  I tried hard not to point out to the unconscious malingerer that he had gotten rid of our solid jarrah dining seats because one back was a little wobbly and actually paid real, actual real money to buy jarrah veneer toothpick chairs that try to kill people; I failed but only a couple of times so I am actually quite proud of myself.

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We pushed and pulled him onto a giant crash mat pillow thingy and made him stay there for a while.  He promised, in signs because he was still pre-vocal (I know dishonest body language a new low), that he needed to go to the bathroom.  I let him and on the way back the insane, dizzy, wobbling, staggering man leaned over to get a new T-shirt.  He wants a third concussion, he does.   I just yelled at Gav because I was so angry remembering this incident so I better stop now before I start smacking his evil, pretending to be waking up but actually snoring body.

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“Aaaaaaarg, snoring is not a part of waking up!”

“Why is Dad shaking?”

“He likes shaking, he’s evil!”

So second concussion under his belt he has been milking it for all that its worth.  He has been too concussed to do anything useful for weeks.

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And he has been making me do all the damn cooking.  If I was truly evil I could probably make Mum do it, but she is doing all the driving and almost all the shopping and I am not an evil sleeping monster.

“Who can sleep standing up!  What the hell are you doing?”

He’s trying so hard for concussion number 3 but believe me if he gets a third concussion I am turning him into a puppet and making him cook anyway.

I hate cooking, it puts me right off eating.  I spent 3 days only eating 5 mouthfuls of various food in the entire time.  I threw a chocolate muffin in the bin after one bite, a CHOCOLATE Muffin, with liquid Chocolate sauce.  I know, I never thought I would live to see such a sad day.

Then he made me pan fry steak.  He is a diabolical creature!  But the jokes on him, I have now given up cooking forever.  Die sleeping husband, die!  The kitchen tried to kill my beloved Tabby cat and maternal instinct kicked in and I shielded her.

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The other arm only has 3 large blistering spots.
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At least Tabby is fine.  Oblivious & fine!

Oh, yeah!  My stress level is sky high.  I am not whining and making things up; yeah I know I thought so too.  I have scientific proof; my EEG from my latest neurofeedback session.  I am upset, poor little me!  My psychologist said I need respite.  Yeah that is going to happen.

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So I’m avoiding blogging, the thing I love most in the world.  Because of him, the thing I used to love most in the world.

OMG now that it is written down I see it.  It was a plot all along.  Gosh that man is tricky!  Excuse me I have to write something mean on someone’s sleeping forehead!

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