Maisie Paws
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not getting out of bed and being dead
I have been out of bed for about half an hour. I have during this time, cleaned the loo, cleaned the cat loo, washed the sink with 'mighty muscle bathroom thingy' and... well I think that might be it. But not bad! I was inspired by reading about inactivity on raving adolescent whatsisname's blog and, realising I was not the only one, i decided it would be ok to do something else. Just for a bit anyway because I have to come in and tell you all about it now. I even got dressed. I have been in my pyjamas since I got home on Friday but I am now d r e s s e d. Very good.
It's not the most fantastic idea to lie in bed for two days because it makes your back hurt.
My hair is damp (because I washed it in the bath) and it will take ages to dry because it is mostly made of wool. I could use the hairdryer but I can't bear the noise.
I spent 8 years living with someone in one room. I then spent two years living with someone else in that same room. A very small room. We had a platform bed made out of scaffolding. It didn't matter because all my stuff was at my parents' flat a couple of tube stops away. Now I have a whole house. 4 rooms. So I have just spent the last day and a half using just 5' x 2" foot of it. Never mind that art installation bed, mine has plenty of interesting stuff in it. I could say I have to be here because I am supposed to be doing an assignment for college and my computer is here but a} it is a laptop with wireless internet connection and therefore works in any room including the garden and b} I haven't done a stroke of work on my assignment this weekend so far.
Also in my bed are things I might need like books, DVDs, a pen, a wooly scarf, a pair of fingerless gloves, a couple of bags, a crate of wet laundry that has been here since yesterday because there are not enough heaters to hang it all out on. There is probably a cat somewhere but I can't see it at the moment. I have all my telecommunication hardware here but for some reason I keep using the mobile phone, which costs money, rather than the landline, which is totally free for all national calls (or not free but it goes with my internet connection on a monthly all in charge). That's because I can't find it. I know it is here because I rang it with the mobile and it sounded quite close and a bit muffled. I have probably taken laziness about as far as it can go for a while. I might as well get up. It's sunny outside.
My father used to wake me up by saying 'It's a beautiful day'. He would quickly put me off though by adding 'There's lots of housework to be done'. If I didn't get up he would go on to point out that I was 'missing the best part of the day' and this went with his philosophy that if you didn't get up to do things at 6 a.m. it just wouldn't be worthwhile. Which is why I have to stay in bed. Incidentally, although he did get up at around 6 a.m. every morning, he also went for a siesta every afternoon. We had to creep around the flat for about 2 hours so as not to disturb him. Very irritating.
I trained him eventually to say things like 'It's a wonderful day' and 'I am bringing you your cup of tea'. This worked better. He even stopped moaning about my messy bedroom and we made a deal. All I had to do was to 'make a path from the door to my bed' so he could bring me my cup of tea without having to climb over anything. Wonderful. We stopped arguing from that day on. It was a golden age.
I have weird dreams about my dad. He died about 8 years ago. Actually it's probably more by now but I can't remember exactly when it was. That's because he is sort of still here. My parents flat looks just the same only there are just more objects in it. My mom has a million audio tapes of conversations we had with him round the table and she listens to them while she eats. His chair still carries that aura about it so if you sit on it you have to smooth out the table cloth while you talk just as he did.
In these dreams that I have, it turns out that actually he didn't die that day and he is still there and the worrying thing is that he keeps saying he is thinking about agreeing to do a theatre run. Now this is very worrying because when he was ill he got quite feeble and if he really does intend to sign a contract to do a pantomime or something then I am not at all sure he will be able to do the cartwheels and things the company might be expecting. He hasn't told them he is dead.
A new development happened about a year ago. It turned out that not only did he not die eight years ago but he was already dead because he had died in the sixties in a car crash. What happened was that the other bloke, who was driving the car, agreed not to tell anyone because he might get into trouble for causing the accident. Then, when we were in a pub somewhere, someone suddenly had that 'I recognise you' face on, but, unlike the usual person having 'seen him on telly but got confused and thought he was a relative' type scenario, this one actually did know him and not only that but knew he was dead. Quite a worry, because if he had told anyone it could have been very embarrassing and maybe messed up his contract and jeopardised any future work.
After all, every actor knows, if you are ill you must make sure nobody finds out because years later they might decide not to call you for a job because you are ill, even if you only had 'flu for a couple of weeks. Even playing someone ill can be dangerous. A friend in america saw him in an old re-run of a tv show where he had played a 'farmer with a cough' who had to get the James Herriot vet man out to look at his cow. I don't know why the farmer had a cough but it wasn't because my dad had a cough because he didn't. However, the friend in america was so concerned about the cough that she immediately wrote a letter to say how sorry she was to see he had such a terrible cough and hoped he would get better soon. Even though the programme had been filmed about two years previously. Incidentally, every now and again my mom receives royalty payments for that episode, about one pound 20p (my pound sign has gone missing) per sale to various countries. It is weird to know that people in places like Saudi Arabia are sitting in their whatever rooms watching my dad coughing. My mom was sitting in a bar on a greek island once and noticed him on the tv. She thought about saying, 'that's my late husband by the way' but decided better of it. Especially having to explain it in Greek.
So, here he is, in my bedroom saying 'It's a beautiful day outside', 'jump about a bit'. And just to say thanks for all those cups of tea and the rest, I am going to make another attempt to get up and go downstairs. I am hungry anyway.
Maisie
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To date 5 Comment(s)
TrackBack-URL
(10.12.05 22:02)
Moi? Inspiring?
Ahh, only in my apathy. Now it all makes sense.
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Dissertation methodology
/ Website
(15.9.11 05:24)
dissertation methodology has two types such as quantitative and qualitative methodology which are consisting of different theories and also they usually differ from each other. In qualitative, you study the features and subject characteristics in question, when it relies on numerical and statistical data form a conclusion.
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dissertation
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Ella
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(8.10.11 06:16)
I trained him eventually to say things like 'It's a wonderful day' and 'I am bringing you your cup of tea'. This worked better. He even stopped moaning about my messy bedroom and we made a deal. All I had to do was to 'make a path from the door to my bed' so he could bring me my cup of tea without having to climb over anything. Wonderful. We stopped arguing from that day on. It was a golden age.muscle gain truth review
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