So today my friend calls me to say that her boyfriend has asked her to move out of their house. Apparently he needs ‘space’. He has assured her that this isn’t The End – they are still together just not living together for the time being, just while he gathers his thoughts and gets that much-needed ‘space’.
I can’t help but think about how wonderful it would be if life was really that easy. If, when the going gets tough, we could simply state that we need a little ‘space’ and all of the so-called problems in our life would move out for a while. Hell, maybe we could evict them for good!
With this in mind, I am going to request that my husband and I have a little space from our tenant that is Crohn’s Disease. I feel that it has over stayed its welcome and, quite frankly, is crowding us. We would like some time (space) to enjoy being us. We don’t need anything fancy, just us. And while I mention it, I hope I don’t seem greedy in asking for Crohn’s friend, Infertility, to take a hike too.
Thanks very much. I look forward to our new-found space together.
This is my second post of the day but something else very important happened today.
After suffering the trauma of a broken iPhone a couple of weeks ago and having to resort back to one of my old – and quite frankly inadequate – handsets, I am back in the land of iPhone users. I am now the proud owner of a brand spanking new iPhone 4s.
How very sad and shallow I hear you cry! Well, i put my hands up in defeat and admit to the world I am a complete gadget addict. So much so that I am actually considering adding ’Using my iPad’ to my list of hobbies and interests on my CV. I love my gadgets and can quite easily spend hours surfing the web, exploring apps and now, my new-found interest, blogging.
So there you have it. I have confessed my sins (well one of them anyway). I love my iPhone/iPad/iPod (and anything else I can stick an ’i' in front of)! Now that I have my complete set of gadgets by my side once again, I can sleep easy tonight.
Today I had an appointment at the dental hygienist. Nothing was wrong, just a routine check up, but for some reason a visit to the dentist seems to bring out my inner child.
Better get flossing!
Now my teeth aren’t too bad – a little crooked perhaps (I should have listened to my mum when I was young and had that brace) but on the whole they’re in reasonably good nick. However the notion of stepping foot inside the dentist’s surgery sends a chill down my spine and makes me want to run for the hills – even when I know that my teeth are fine! I’ll be honest, I brush my teeth twice a day but floss less regular. It’s not that I’m lazy. I’m just… errr…ok, ok… a little lazy with the flossing at times!
Just recently I’ve changed to a new dental practice and in the process seem to have gained a separate hygienist alongside my dentist. Great… now I get double the
torture fun! If dentists weren’t scary enough, their evil counterpart take that fear to another level. I have found myself frantically flossing and gargling this week in the hope that the hygienist will not notice that I’ve been slack over the Xmas & New Year period. As I try to brush away my sins, I mentally rehearse what I will tell her when she asks how I’m doing with my teeth cleaning regime.
It’s ridiculous really. A grown woman feeling like I have to prepare myself for a telling off – it brings back memories of being at school and getting caught by the Head of Girls for trying to sneak out the back of the field to meet a boy from the local comprehensive!
So, at my appointment today, in the end I did what any sensible adult would do. When asked how the flossing etc was going by my hygienist, I looked to the floor, shuffled my feet from one to the next and muttered under my breath about promising to do better in future! And who knows, maybe I will. The consequences if not may well be much worse than a telling off – I may have to contend with the dreaded drill…. eek!