Happy Australia Day!

It wasThis is my husband’s first officially sanctioned Australia Day i.e. the first since he became a citizen last year and I wanted to celebrate it with him. Instead, he’s spending it working away at some minesite in the heat and he’s on night shift.
I made plans to take in a movie with a girl friend but she got sick at the last minute, poor thing. Both my daughters already were going out and so I’m sitting here alone drawing worried biro circles on my foot.
Why? This is a reasonable question. There appears to be a patch of cellulitis on it.   That was what landed me in hospital last time; it developed after a blister. There was no blister on my right foot and I don’t recall doing anything to it but it looks (and is starting to feel) awfully similar. The pen marks are so I can see if it is advancing or retreating; I did something very similar  when touring up north and trying to decide whether or not to cross the flooded creek – draw a line in the mud and time how long it took the water to advance/retreat.

It was a safety issue then and it is a safety issue now. Trouble is, I don’t know how much of this is me being a hypochondriac and thinking I have something there because it was so awful last time and as a result  I am over sensitive now, alert to the least sign of trouble; seeing zebras instead of horses, so to speak.
BUT (and this is a big but), if it is cellulitis,it needs to be treated as soon as possible, in which case I am not being sensitive enough and I should already be looking for medical attention.
I can’t resolve it with a quick (expensive) trip to the doctor because it is a public holiday. ED is the only alternative and there is no fucking way I am sitting in there on a holiday where the object of Australia Day  is to get as obliterated as possible (not my objective but the side effects of the holiday do tend to clog up the ED). I would be waiting for at least ten hours just to be seen as more urgent cases went through. I’ll try and  tough it out until tomorrow. In any case, everybody I know is drinking and responsibly staying put today and I don’t want to drive myself.
In the meantime, I keep checking and circling the swelling to see if it is increasing (it was, fast, this morning) and I keep taking my temp to see if I have developed a fever. See? It sounds like I am being awfully precious. If it does turn out to be cellulitis, I think I can kiss my new-meant-to-be-starting-Monday job goodbye. The timing is appallingly bad.
 I have been fearfully productive today because both the girls are out, thank God. I love them dearly but this place is tiny and it gets dirty/untidy really quickly with anybody other than me living in it.
Over the last three days I’ve been overhauling the bookshelves. I felt they didn’t look nice. I wanted to dust them as well. So I took every single book down and dusted it and cleaned the shelves and then put them back up. It has taken literally around twenty hours concentrated effort. We have a LOT of books.
I sorted as well. I donated a lot of books that I didn’t particularly love or those that I had loved enough to have bought as an e-book as well. The ones I really, really loved (and there were  a lot of those) I have to own in print and electronic and sometimes audio as well format. You know, for every contingency. The reason I had so many in the first place is that I tend to love a lot of books and I buy a lot from thrift stores so I don’t feel bad recycling them after.
I did the right thing by Wayne this time around, though, and I didn’t chuck out any of his books. He has a lot of technical stuff and a lot of self-help stuff and he reads a great deal of science fiction as well, which surprises me. We do not at all share the same taste in literature but he is a prodigious reader and it is so lovely to share my life with somebody who falls into a book with a deep sense of satisfaction, just like I do.
When I put the books back up again, I classified them first of all by fiction/non-fiction. Then genre. Then series/author. Then vague similarities. And finally, colour/size. It was very satisfying: rather like playing a grownup game of Jenga but putting things in. It wasn’t a perfect system – I had to move two books when I realised that yes, biographies, brown, medium sized, meant that Laura Ingalls Wilder sat on top of Ted Bundy and I felt so sorry for Laura (such a nice clean girl), although I am sure Ted would have been down for it.
My foot hurts. I am ignoring incredibly hard because it can’t be, it simply can’t be cellulitis again. If I refuse to pay attention to it, it will go away, I am sure. La, la, la…I can’t hear you.
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About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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