The ring of fire

I woke up at 2am this morning and had to run to the loo only to discover that someone had taken all of my internal organs, placed them in a blender and hit puree until they turned into battery acid then poured them back into my stomach so that they could exit through my already sore backside. I swear that at one point my piles actually ignited for a few seconds. I was in agony.

Having Ghandi's Revenge is bad enough. Having it with raging piles, a bulging bump and a bad back is just plain torture. I spent an hour sitting in a bicarb bath last night trying to soothe my flaming backside. J came home while I was in the bath. He'd had an upset stomach all day too and when he saw me he said 'I know just how you feel. I'm going through the same thing.' I think I actually growled at him and I know I gave him a scary look because he immediately started backtracking with 'I mean as far as the curry goes.... your situation is obviously much, much worse.... can I do anything for you..' as he slowly backed out of the bathroom like a man trying to back out of a lion's cage.

I ended up nicking a pot of Toby's Sudocreme and briefly considered putting on one of his nappies before going back to bed. The nappy cream really helped (there's a tip for the future) and I managed to sleep through to 8am so I'm actually feeling pretty much OK this morning.

My mind has a funny way of working and there's always some kind of backing track playing in there. Often I'm not even aware of it and then I'll suddenly tune into the song running through my brain and it makes me laugh. At 2am it was the Billy Joel song We Didn't Start the Fire. I woke up this morning humming The Ring of Fire. Funny how the subconscious works.