I'm having one of those days. Well, one of those weeks is probably more like it, but I don't want to consider how far this current path of destruction goes back. So, day...week, whatever. Everything I touch breaks, falls over or stops working so I'm happy to call it quits on the time factor in case I break that too. Even BendyCat is affected, I've just managed to elbow her in the head trying to put my jumper on.
I've actually been good and remained on my arse for most of today. I have an appointment at the bendy clinic in Leeds with Professor Bird on Thursday and I'm starting to panic about being able to get there. GangstaGuy is away that day and Roland on nights. Pretty much everyone else is either in work, education or not well enough themselves. I'd ask my pot dealer but I have this old fashioned notion that people should be sober when they drive a motor vehicle. Usually I drive myself but my joints seem set on a path of separation and are stubbornly refusing any form of couples therapy.
Friday night was supposed to be a night of passion. It involved screaming but that was pretty much it as far as passion went. I think I dislocated my knee, probably the femur part rather than patella part but beyond something going 'pop' I couldn't say. Things go pop all day and all night so I try not to pay too much attention. Whatever the source of popping not long after I was howling. Now, those who know me know my usual reaction to a dislocation is to scream something along the lines of 'fucking fuck fuck' then go back to whatever it was I was doing. It is absolutely not typical for the screaming to continue along the path to sobbing. I'm not big on crying. It always gives me a headache. Besides, swearing is good for pain. Science says so.
GangstaGuy was a bit distressed. He tried to hide it but I could tell by his frequent, hopeful suggestions we go to hospital. The pain was so bad I did consider that option myself but decided I'd rather be in pain on a comfortable couch with supplies of tea, chocolate and weed than in pain in an uncomfortable tea, chocolate and weed free hospital. After all, what was the hospital going to do that I couldn't myself? Prod it a bit, hum and haw, maybe throw in an x-ray for good measure then suggest some form of support, anti inflammatories, crutches and a rapid referral to orthopaedics. It's the knee of the hip which got so put out when I misjudged a step back in March. How can it be that long ago? What happened to April?
So that was Friday night. I 'broke' my knee.
On Saturday morning I broke GangstaGuy's sink. Cracked clean through. Fortunately not with my head as I have not recovered from having to explain to a bemused A&E doctor how I managed to crack the back of my head on the underside of a sink many years ago. This sink break was caused by my 'oh so careful' balancing of a candle holder. The 'oh so careful' bendy version is never quite the same as anyone else's 'oh so careful' so now GangstaGuy needs a new sink. I was mortified. Breaking other people's possessions is far less acceptable than breaking my own, though they all end in the same place-people who aren't me fixing them.