In a misguided attempt to add some zing to my sex life I decided to shave my “bits” … so Saturday morning found me doing a myriad of contortions in the bathtub, wrestling with shaving cream, my legs and the razor, the kids happily distracted by an hour of cartoons. Yes. Not the brightest idea I ever had. I didn’t cut myself. So there’s a plus. I also chose this day, of all possible days, to stop taking my antihistamines – I’ve been taking one every day for about 2 months to beat my hay fever into submission. And because I feel like I’m giving in by taking them at all, I thought I’d take a short break and test if it were actually necessary. In the big scheme of things, you understand. (I am also reading a book called “Don’t sweat the small stuff, for moms”). As it turns out, it probably will be a day I will remember five years from now.
At 9, a friend dropped off her son, and we went along to spend the day at a local school’s fun fair. The kids had a great day going down water slides, riding ponies, entering the colouring competition, pinning the eye patch on the pirate (an exciting variation to tails on donkeys) and racing around the obstacle course. I searched in vain for a patch of shade and ended up slowly roasting at 30-voetsak degrees amidst a small mountain of juice bottles and hats and clothes and towels and swimming costumes and balloons. One of which popped – I was not the most popular parent of the day. It might even have been on my cigarette – which I do not own up to!
Needless to say by 3 o’clock that afternoon I was a mass of snot with swollen-shut red eyes, sunburn, and the urge to scoot across the grass like a dog with worms (very itchy bits!) or rub myself up against a tree (obviously not fussy). 3 Castle Lites later, toilet roll (helpfully supplied by a concerned parent) clutched in free hand, a possibly erroneous feeling of control descended … the Castles are not so “Lite” after all.
Later Graham, happily home from work, cooked dinner for our unexpected guests while I threw back a vodka and coke (or two) and had a satisfying scratch. True to form, by the time I had eaten my dinner, with some fantastic red wine, acquired at the recent Big 5 Wine Festival, my eyelids were drooping, speech was slightly slurred and my enthusiasm for the rest of the evening seriously compromised.
I’d like to say the sex was worth it. But Graham came to bed eventually to find me snoring gently, my choice of adjective I must admit, fully clothed, a burst balloon at my feet – must’ve been the lone survivor.
