I Have Special Powers Now.
Ever since I got hit on the head, I have special powers.
“Shhh ….seriously, stop talking,” I was trying to stop Derek in mid sentence when he had just launched himself off the top of the tallest word slide and was going a million miles and hour hurtling towards the bottom – the subject being something about why the water pump was not working and how he had figured out that it was the battery and not the generator. My eyes had glazed over and blood was pouring from my ears.
He was clearly annoyed that I had interrupted him.
“I promise you. I know everything you are about to say. Ever since I got hit on the head, I have these special powers. I can read your mind now. You don’t have to talk.”
I could tell he did not believe me. His eyes were glazed over.
Today’s lesson was “Never ever try to sit down on the edge of the bed in a caravan when the edge of the bed in the caravan is still up in the air at a 45 degree angle because you forgot that you had not pulled it back down again. To do so is to clock yourself in the head when you try to massage the back of your head by forcefully striking it against a long, thick metal bar that acts as the base for the bed frame. One must not only “look before you leap,” one must “look before you sit.” It also applies for toilet seats in the dark of night when you share your bed with a male” No bed bar in that one but a cold bowl of ice water and worse, awaits to massage your bottom.
A bit wordy, but cross-stitchable none the less . . . For a long stretch of the couch needing a pillow. You might not be able to throw it however – the pillow, I mean.
Aww the flies. How could I forget the flies? Sticky flies. Sticky little shits of flies that aim for your nose, your eyes, your mouth, or your ear. They want you to surrender the water off your eyeballs to them. They land and set up their beach gear at lake eyeball so they and 5 million of their closest friends can wade out into the depths. Eye blink is a tidal wave, but not guaranteed to kill them all. So please, don’t coo at me about mother nature and that baby flies are cute. You can’t see them until they are all on you and no matter what you do to shoo them they come right back to that exact same spot. In fact they are there before your hand does the back sweep of the wave. I will die and the cause will be death by sticky flies … madness that set in and I could not shake. I don’t care how stupid people look with fishing nets hanging from their heads like bridal veils pre the big kiss. I don’t care how dumb it is to hang corks off a hat. Give me the veil, give me the hat, give me a machine gun. I. HATE. THEM.
I pointed it out to Derek that the flies always go for me. We were walking. Derek was walking slightly ahead of me, his good ear on the other side away from me. The wind was blowing.
“Hmm, I don’t have any on me.”
“I know! How could there be any on you when they are all on me?”
“But that is why I married you and brought you with me. ”
I stopped dead in my tracks, “to keep the flies off you?”
“Exactly! I love that about you. Look…” he showed me his fly free arms, “not a single fly!”
This was supposed to be a romantic trip … how do you think he is going so far?
THAT went along with our breakfast conversation when I caught him scraping the pot with a spoon, stirring his oatmeal. I reminded him how many times he lectured me on not scraping the saucepans because the coating is carcinogenic if it gets into the food. I also reminded him that I had specially bought him Rubber Maid spoons for that purpose. Master of misdirection he avoided the whole double standard wall in-between us and wanted to know more about his new “Rubber Maid” and what duties she might provide. He was worried that I was overtired, so much so that I felt I needed a “Rubber Maid” to help out with my wifely “duties.” I told him this was going in the blog. I think his skin has become thicker, he just kept stirring his porridge and grinning.
DAY 2 Julia Creek
Woke up this morning and I tried again to say something to Derek. He was so immersed in his reading that he did not even hear me. He always says he can hear me, as in he knows I am speaking, he just can’t always understand what I am saying. I had made several attempts last night to speak and he had ignored me, like who did he think I was talking to? My special friend I packed in my suitcase and brought out to have deep meaningful conversations? Without a promise of internet wherever we go, one of the roles he has to play is that of my girlfriend.
I tried again, “You do know that your deafness is getting worse, don’t you?”
I said it again, louder. This time we had contact.
“You want me to take you to the hospital right now?” His face creased with concern. I actually had really cracked my head hard yesterday and my neck and jaw, shoulder and the back of my head were not in good shape.
I was rolling among the pillows howling with laughter. The more I could not talk the more frustrated he became and the more I laughed.
It was much funnier as it happened than it was trying to explain it to him. He still didn’t understand why I thought I needed to go to the hospital.
So he was off for some exercise, he hoped. Maybe there would be a tree he could do chin ups on … or a kids playground and he could use some of the equipment there to create gym equipment. I offered him my crochet needle so he could crochet on the missing parts. He walked down to the office and I watched him pedaling away down the dusty track leading into town … on a push bike. (bicycle) It was just the image of him in a kids playground, organizing all the kids, his bike tossed in the nearby dead grass, as he did chin ups and push ups and even used the kids as weights.
Instead he came back and gave me a guided tour of the town, as seen on a bicycle, Derek style. He directed traffic, chatted with the ladies at the info booth, rode up to the gas station and discovered another pub. Then he was back. I handed him the laundry and told him when he was done that he could wash the bugs off the windows.
A whole bunch of people showed up, packing the banks. I cannot believe how loud some of the women talk. Most of them let their dogs run loose and then think it makes up for it when they talk sternly to their dog. They are not supposed to be off their leads and the caretakers say the dog catcher comes out regularly and hands out expensive tickets even if the dog is standing right next to the owner. The guy next to us started fishing and caught a couple of “sleepy cod.” I think they are playing the same game we are, of name the fauna. Then he got ticked off that we turned on our generator.
Derek and I will start our own gang with colours and hand signs and we will take on the other caravanners. I think Derek is way more fit than most of the men and I could probably wrestle some of the other women. When he tried to come back after doing the laundry I had locked the door and asked him for the password. He did not remember it. I told him we were going to have to start recruiting more intelligent gang members.
I did throw him out a pillow for the night.
Depending on when his memory comes back, we might be here a few more weeks.