This morning, whilst performing the hitherto unremarkable feat of brushing my hair, I somehow managed to trap a nerve in my neck. This has resulted in my spending the entire day with a head that’s incapable of turning to the left unless accompanied by my entire upper body. This, in turn, has had the extremely unfortunate effect of making me want to talk like Stephen Hawking. I know, I know, it’s very childish.
There were benefits to my incapacitation, however. For example, I haven’t had to pick up anything I’ve dropped today. Have you any idea how many things you drop in a day and pick up without noticing? Ask my kids, they’ll tell you. It’s lots. After several hours of enduring my wheedling tone calling ‘Darling? Are you there? I’m sorry, I’ve dropped my pen/sock/custard tart again..’ they both buggered off out and left me. The result is that everything I’ve dropped since is still on the floor in an interesting scatter gun effect.
Another benefit was that instead of having to cut the hedge and grass myself, I was able to persuade my son to do it. I think he quite likes it really, since it involves power tools. This is the boy who once got so sick of the corner of his bedroom rug curling up that he screwed it down. Using a drill. Straight into the gas pipe that runs under his floorboard.
Now THAT was an interesting evening…