Life… Sometimes it picks you up and takes you high, high up to Cloud Nine (not the bar or strip joint). Sometimes it picks you up only to pound you down to earth repeatedly, like the Incredible Hulk does to Loki in this scene from The Avengers. I had a similar couple of weeks, the kind of couple of weeks where you think that you may not recover either alive or at the very least without any hideous scars. Ranging from a hard time at the office with work being piled onto me like dirt being shoveled into an open grave, to my boyfriend being called away for duty (he’s a sea-captain which means I won’t see him for many months). For the sake of not wanting to throw myself a pity party, I will only continue by giving you the cherry on the shit pie, which was my grandmother having to be admitted to hospital for a hysterectomy and then consequently having to move in with me.
I’m on the other side of this now and I can confirm I am alive and well. I was scathed but I seem to have healed speedily and miraculously like someone had rubbed vampire blood all over my wounds. The only way I can describe it is like having to jump from one tall building block to another. Who would be stupid enough to try that apart from the cast of Jackass, you ask. Let’s just say you had to do it. Let’s say a rabid lion is chasing you on top of a tall building and you have to jump to an adjacent. Let’s question the likelihood of this scenario another time. The choices are few and actually quite simple. You will either (a) plummet to your death, (b) manage to make it to the other side hanging on by your fingernails and then either (i) fall to your sure end or (ii) manage to climb back up with a minor heart attack and soiled underwear to show for it, or in the very rare case scenario (c) manage to land on the other side on your feet. I did just that. I did (c) even though I would have put good money on me being at the very best a (b)(ii). I landed on my feet right on the other side. Shocked and amazed, I’m now looking back at the metaphoric other building and at the rabid lion and down to the gaping hole I could still be falling down should things have gone another way and realize that I’m practically unscathed. I’m now hysterically happy dancing, pointing at the other building and at the lion and laughing my ass off.
It feels great. There is, of course, aftermath that I have to deal with now, i.e take care of my grandmother and some of the other problems are still there like, work still being busy but now I feel that I can face it head on and just do it. My boyfriend being away? Well, life has taught me to look at the bright side and take the good with the bad and right now the good is that I will have more time to write (because when he’s here all I want to do is cuddle on the couch watching Homeland or Fringe whilst shoving butter flavor popcorn into my mouth). Think of all the calories I will not be consuming (or sharing)!
Last night I finally got around to starting Pride and Prejudice for the first time as an adult (I was 13 when it came out in 1995) and this morning I made a massive cup of tea and watched all the extras from the box set of Sex and The City whilst eating chocolate (something I would not have been able to do with the boyfriend around – firstly he wouldn’t want to watch SATC and secondly, he would eat all my chocolate).
I also prepared my grandmother’s room for when she moves in tomorrow (I’ve been ordered to dust extra carefully and change the sheets) and I even cleaned the oven. Granted, if she wasn’t moving in, the oven would have remained untouched for the foreseeable future. I’m actually looking forward to having my grandmother here. Firstly, I’m hardly ever at home and have mommy-guilt for leaving my cat at home alone all day, so at least they will have each other company for as long as my grandmother manages to escape my cat’s murder attempts (pouncing at you in the dark, jumping on your face and weaving through your legs as you are walking being Sunny‘s favourite tactics).
Secondly, my grandmother is the rare type of older woman you can go to with nearly any relationship problem. As she’s only 65 and I’m 30, people are surprised when we tell them that she is my grandmother. Grandma Katerina was married and had her first child by 14 and worked as a lounge singer till retirement about a decade ago. Amongst her nuggets of wisdom are, “all pigs have the same face,” which is an ode to “all men are pigs,” and, “a man should only know a women from the waist down,” which is a way of saying that you shouldn’t tell your man what you are thinking and you should just be what he thinks you are: a lean, mean, cooking machine that can handle anything except for opening jars and killing mice because men have to feel useful and it’s our job to make them think they are. OK, some may argue that her advice and thinking is a bit dated but I still love to hear it. It’s fantastic writing material.
Plus I get to hear all the cool stories. As a lounge singer, she really has seen (and dated) a wide range of men. I’ve heard stories of men flying thousands of miles to see her, having to be police escorted away from the building, and another guy getting a complementary tray of fruit from my grandmother (thrown at his head). The fact that she is single by choice says a lot. At the hospital she confessed to me that she recently had a naughty dream. “At my age, can you imagine?” she said. Would rather not, thanks.
So at the moment I’m feeling great. I’m at the ‘looking back, pointing and laughing hysterically at the other building, screaming, “I made it, I made it, take that, rabid lion,”’ phase, and things are good. But the below note that is currently doing the rounds on all social media keeps nagging at the back of my brain…