The day is upon us.
Which day?
Moving day of course.
I have graciously been allowed not to be present at the office for the last official day of my employment (because there's no work for me to do, my machine somehow got twatted while I was off, and they're going to be moving someone into my desk), which thankfully gives me those extra 8 and a half hours with which to do the packing that I have been unable (for several reasons) to do so far.
I'm caught up in a paralyzing mix of emotions. On one hand, I'm over the moon to be finally with D again, particularly since this trip has no expiry date on it. I've missed him so much, particularly these last few weeks when things have been so difficult and hugs have been in desperately short supply. I long for those "just awake" moments in bed, where everything is warm and the weight of the world on my shoulders seems that bit lighter.
On the other hand, I'm worried about the family I'm leaving here and feeling guilty about leaving while my dad is still in hospital. I know I need to get on with my life, but it's not the easiest thing to move away from the sense of duty that I've had instilled in me since I was a small child.
It's going to be a long day, but I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
So, I was over at the house across the road, closing the curtains and putting the food out for the birds since they're away on holiday right now, and I'm standing in the back garden and I hear my mobile phone ring. So I start to pat my pockets absent mindedly, because I'm pretty sure I didn't pick it up when I came across the road.
Imagine my chagrin when I realised that it was still plugged in and sat on the table next to my bed.
Picture the scene:
You're off work with a terrible cold and chest infection, you've spent the last few days in bed, wrapped in your duvet, and now you can just about manage to sit upright, so you're in your favourite old worn dressing gown and you're sitting up in bed watching tv.
The doorbell goes, so you shuffle off to answer it, and standing there is a good few hundred people. You'd thrown out an invitation to a few people to come round and say hi a few weeks ago, but in the meantime you'd forgotten, and somehow the party has got bigger than you thought it would, and in that instant, you suddenly realise that your hair is standing up at a squiffy angle due to a major case of bed-head, you have that rather endearing crumple mark on your face because you've been curled under the covers, and as the wind blows through the open door past your legs you realise that you forgot to shave them, and your dressing gown stops at your knees.
All that is a roundabout way of saying hey to all the folks who've come here via my very first ickle. Scuse the mess, I'm off work with a stinking chest infection and cold on top of some of the most hectic weeks of my life. No excuse I know, but do please bear with me, I'm not normally this boring and miserable. Honest.
Do feel free to make yourselves at home, have a peek through the archives, or for some sparkling wit and fresh and funny stories, drop by and say hi to my other half who is not ill, and thus will be more able to amuse and delight you.
Raindrops are ickle.
After weeks of tests and trips back and forward to the hospital, my dad was given his final diagnosis today.
It's definately cancer.
It took them long enough to find, but it's there.
He is going to be admitted to hospital a week on friday, and will undergo surgery the following monday.
They estimate that he'll take about two weeks to recover from an operation of this magnitude, but they're confident that they can get all the cancer before it spreads.
I hope they're right.
... the online home and (not very) alter(ed)-ego of Ann McMeekin, a recently freelance Web Accessibility Consultant.
... passionate about many things, most of which will turn up on this site at some time or other.
... contactable via email.
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