I'm somewhat frazzled of late...So my hon says to me 'write a list of everything that stresses you, so we can work them out one by one'...so I'm writing you all an epic :D
Maybe it's the endless run of miserable luck...Nationals was my worst ever. My stomach was killing me for two days (suspect water supply), my blood sugar was all over the show like a mad woman's breakfast and I just couldn't hit the proverbial barn side, standing inside with the doors shut. I was called in to hospital to have my eyes re-checked after my diabetic retinopathy screen wasn't good so spent the week stressing that diabetes is making me go blind and I've only had it 4yrs. They nicely reassured me that my diabetes was fine, it was the suspected melanoma on my right retina that was worrying them... and it took 4 specialists to decide it's just a freckle and not cancer and phrases like 'I'm pretty sure it's just a freckle' to strengthen my faith in medical expertise... and of course I barely have a freckle to my name so when I finally get one it can't be somewhere normal like on my nose or a cute one on my butt cheek... no no... it has to be on my retina...Of course...why didn't I think of that?
I got bitten by six jack jumpers (read freaking big bitey ants) which stings something like being stabbed 80 times with an ice cold insulin needle at practice then spent a night debating whether I needed an ambulance when my lips went numb and my limbs went weak - a sure sign of extremely low blood sugar, but my meter read so high I'm surprised it didn't freak and tell me to go to hospital too... turns out I'm allergic to ant bites... go figure.
The clinical meeting I had organised months prior almost didn't happen when venue, speaker and speech all went AWOL at various points prior to said meeting...My previous week had already been so crap that discovering I had left my spotting scope and tripod behind in Canberra really didn't elicit more than a 'meh' instead of the usual string of healthy epithets one should expel on discovering the loss of close on a thousand dollars worth of gear... by this stage you would need a tsunami and a plague or two to impact on my mega run in with Murphy (that putz..)
And between all of that I am living in hotels. I have two world cups to train for, but work keeps me busy enough to make practice a mythical beast. I've lost a cable guard...best not ask. My arrows need refletching. My bow needs a new string. My kittens might have fleas and my mother who pointed it out doesn't believe they might be hers. My bedroom floor is MIA... I'm holding out it's just missing and not beyond hope.
And my nephew thinks that the chocolate bunny I bought him for Easter is a Tyrannosaurus Rex... not that that is a problem...but when even chocolate bunnies aren't going right...
So me, my de-flead kittens and my coffee are going back to bed...wake us up when you've shot that prick Murphy, run him over, backed up to be sure and scattered his ashes in the Derwent river that is apparently so manky you'll get mercury poisoning from eating the fish...Or maybe we all had a bad week and everyone dumping ashes in the river is biting us on the butt....
