Haunted

I figured out what was wrong with me.

The house is killing me.

Here's how it works. Do you remember the incident last October, shortly after we moved in, when the whole left side of my face ballooned up and my eye was swollen shut for 3 days and the doctors (yes, plural) never did figure out what caused it? They couldn't figure out if it was bacterial, viral, or an allergic reaction to some environmental factor, and it was getting worse so rapidly there wasn't time to try different medications in succession (also, I was half blind and itching like i had fleas in my eyeballs), so they put me on antibiotics, antivirals, AND antihistemines all at once. One of them worked because I began to get better shortly thereafter, but it's still a medical mystery.

Now bear in mind that we moved in here on September 20, I immediately got a head cold, and then the eye thing started on October 5.

Please also bear in mind that all last autumn I had one head cold after another, such that we estimate I've been sick about 50% of the time since we got married.

Except for the 6 weeks I was stuck in Michigan waiting on my spousal visa. For those 6 weeks I was completely fine; not a sniffle.

I got back home to Cornwall at the end of January, and within two weeks I had another mysterious illness. This is the short version:

Friday: sore throat

Early Saturday morning: most painful sore throat in history of humanity, body aches all over, throbbing pounding headache. Essentially pain. Ultimately, the only symptom I had was pain. Conspicuously absent: fever, congestion, sneezing, coughing, runny nose, or ANYTHING that might indicate a viral or bacterial infection.

Sunday: Body ache gone, throat still sore but sufficiently better that I can eat solid food again, headache more bearable but still present.

Today (Monday): Sore throat all but gone, headache back with a vengeance, accompanied by mild nausea.

This morning I walked to the pharmacy to buy some of the effervescent cocodamo*l tablets the nurse on the NHS helpline told me about on sunday morning. My throat was better, but i'm not convinced it won't happen again, so i decide it's a good idea to have some in the house.

My head was throbbing. It didn't hurt more if i bent over or looked down, but as soon as i straightened up again it felt like someone was driving a railroad spike into my brain stem. I thought my brain would explode from the pressure. The ferocity of the pain was such that I actually cried out loud a couple of times while walking home. I wasn't sure I would make it. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and eventually I got home. (It's only one bloody mile.)

I decided to take one dose of the cocodamol for the headache. It helped the headache, but gave me a mild psychotic reaction. I was utterly convinced for 3 hours that there was someone else in the room with me, and i was being WATCHED. I can't tell you how freaky this is. Thankfully about 3% of my brain was holding down the sanity fort and constantly reminding me that I was alone, in no danger, and this was clearly a reaction to the drug.

So what the fuck caused me to have an incredibly sore, swollen, inflamed throat and migraine-level headache pain with no other sign of infection? The House.

Think about it. Shortly after we move in i get some weird, undiagnosable condition. I am sick on and off the entire autumn. I leave for Christmas and enjoy 6 weeks of perfect health. I return and within 2 weeks (roughly the same amount of time between moving in last September and the first medical crisis) I have some other weird, undiagnosable condition. Unless someone else out there has had a bout of tonsilitis that lasted 2 days and went away on its own, my leading theory right now is that there is some environmental factor in the house that's making me ill.

Am I crazy? It just seems unlikely that this is a coincidence.

Pirate is not affected by it, but I'm in the house ALL THE TIME, whereas he only comes here to eat, shag, and sleep. He's out for 12 hours a day at work. I'm not. I'm here, dying by inches.

I've dismissed CO, as we have a dector that says there's no CO in the house.
I've dismissed radon, even though Cornwall is full of it, because radon toxicity takes years of exposure to produce symptoms.
Right now I'm thinking some kind of mold or fungus. I shall begin to investigate and see what I turn up.

*Tylenol 3 with codeine, and it's available over the counter here. Take that, you sorry Americans!

It's finaly happened.

I've actually begun dreaming about the election.

In my dream last night Obama won the popular vote but the electoral college was tied. Since I have no idea what happens in that (highly unlikely) scenario, my dream came to a screeching halt as my brain tried to figure out where to take the plot next.

Does anyone know what happens if the electoral college ties???

Wake-up Call

Every now and again a news story comes along that I feel compelled to share.

MORON STUNNED THAT ALLOWING 8-YR-OLD TO PLAY WITH UZI RESULTS IN ACCIDENTAL DEATH

This is my favorite part of the story:

"This accident was truly a mystery to me," he said. "This is a horrible event, a horrible travesty, and I really don't know why it happened."

Um, it happened because you thought it would be cute to let your kid fire an Uzi. Jesus H. Christ in a hula-hoop. Are people really that dumb?? Yes, yes they are.

Commando

I had a very interesting day at the office yesterday. It stemmed from something which started out as a very minor and occasional nuissance but has since grown into a full-blown lingerie catastrophe.

Of course I'm talking about that annoying sensation when your underwear slices in to your bikini line and feels like cheese-wire that is on the verge of amputating your legs.

I have a couple pairs of knickers with inadequate leg elastic that tend to create this feeling. They annoy me and so I stopped wearing them (despite their being extremely cute and pretty). But lately ALL of my underwear has been doing this, even the old, saggy, stretched-out, cotton granny panties.

Yesterday it reached critical mass. They got so painful I had to take them off. In fact, so fed up was I with the whole dilemma that I got angry at the offending underwear and threw them away, right there in the office (well, in the sanitary disposal bin in the ladies' room) and went commando for the rest of the day.

Yes, I went commando at work.

(I was wearing a knee-lenght corduroy skirt, so it was ok. I didn't have any scary four-corners crotch seams in trousers to contend with, and the skirt was completely opaque, so there was no visible lack-of-panty line.)

It was quite nice, really.

Today I wore the most comfortable pair of knickers I could find, and they're driving me nuts. They're cutting it to my skin so badly it's like wearing pants made a dental floss. I don't know what to do. I can't spend the rest of my life commando, but right now the thought of having to wear underwear every day for the rest of my life is making me cringe. Surely there's a solution to this, and it probably involves replacing all my underwear with something more comfortable, but I can't imagine what that could be. Any suggestions?

ps. The current underwear is mostly low-rise bikini. I've worn them for decades without difficulty. I don't know why they're bothering me now.

pps. I've considered switching to high-leg bikini, but they ride up my ass and I spend my life attempting to subtly remove wedgies.

ppps. No, I haven't gained weight. Not an ounce. In fact I've lost a few pounds. So my legs haven't gotten any fatter if that's what you're thinking.

Crazy anonymous de-lurking revealed!

Well, I finally found out who the anonymous goof-ball is that's been leaving tantalizing comments alluding to a shared past. It was one of my original suspects, the one i dismissed on the grounds that the grammar and punctuation in his comments was too good, and i would have expected more internet/texting-style shorthand from this individual.

He's a great guy with whom I was friends throughout high school (even "dated" for a short time, if you can call it that. I don't think we ever kissed, but we saw a few Disney films together over the summer and had some nice picnics.)

He took me to the homecoming dance, um, Freshman year? I think it was Freshman year. I remember that I was wearing a red dress when every single other girl in the school was wearing black velvet that year, and both his parents and one of his brothers were working as chaperones, and they spaced themselves strategically around the gym so we were never out of sight of one of them. I have never felt so conspicuous in my entire life.

Now he's living and working in Virginia with his wife and 2 kids, and seems to be well and happy, and that is good. We haven't spoken in some years, but it's nice to get back in touch. For a long time after high school I was really bitter about the way I was treated by my classmates (the girls were almost universally bitchy, snotty, petty, shallow, shrill, and two-faced, and most of the guys could have put "sexual harassment" as their #1 extra-curricular activity) and deliberately severed all connections with that life. Mostly now I'm over that chip (mostly), and getting back in touch doesn't seem to be dredging up the awful memories I thought it would. So that's good.

Does this look normal to you?

I have discovered, in my on-going wedding planning frenzy, that it appears to be normal over here to get married at about 10 am, have giant, 3-course wedding breakfast at lunch time (so why they call it 'breakfast' i surely do not know), and then have a full-on buffet dinner in the evening with dancing, etc., thus making the wedding an all-day affair that lasts from 9:30 a.m. (realistically, when people start showing up) to midnight or later. That's a 14+ hour party, people. Fucking 14 hours!!!

This seems to be the norm because whenever I ask for prices for food the venues all hand me a figure in the range of 45-70 pounds per person, and they automatically include the 3-course wedding breakfast and the "disco buffet" for the evening. Who does this??? I have never in my life heard of such a thing.

In the states if you have a morning wedding you have an afternoon reception and everyone goes home at 6 pm. This is much more sensible. They don't hang around until midnight getting drunk and expecting to be fed again like some kind of spoiled zoo animal.

I have been having a very hard time getting any place to quote me a per-head price for

• a starter
• a main course

period. no buffet. no dessert. why would anyone have dessert at their wedding? That's what the bleeding CAKE is for!

argh. you people are weird.

oh, and is it normal to not offer your guests a choice of main course for the dinner? every formal party i've been to in the UK (and i've been to a few, what with office xmas dos and all Pirate's formal stuff), and every time the invitation has included a dinner card to send back with my menu selections. But they tell me that at weddings everyone is normally served the same thing! Really? Or am I being scammed?

The present dilemma

What do you do when you get a really really rediculous Christmas present that you don't want and for which you have no use, that you could exchange for something genuinely useful, but you don't want to hurt the feelings of the giver (who think they got you the greatest present on earth) and there's a reasonable chance that if you swapped it, the giver would find out (call it a 30% chance)? Christmas politics: ack!

Halp!

Dear Adoring Public,

Can anyone answer this question:

Why would someone say they want to get married, and then not want to tell anyone they are engaged?

Besides Romeo & Juliet-style familial disapproval (which doesn't apply here), can anyone think of a reason to keep an engagement a secret other than having serious second thoughts???

Signed,
Befuddled in Brizzle

UPDATE: After I got a little weepy with him about it, he finally bit the bullet and told his folks. (They were ecstatic.) I feel somewhat relieved.

Weekend musings, part the turd

2 (or maybe 3) weeks ago, at the conclusion of a snuggly, pillow-talk discussion about the future, both the long-term and what we were going to do with ourselves the rest of the afternoon:

{disclaimer to A, close personal friend (and now part-time housemate) of Pirate-- if you're reading this, please pretend you didn't. thank you.}

Pirate: I know. I've got an idea that will answer your questions and solve the problem of what to do today.

Me: Oh?

P: We need to go shopping.

M: shopping?

P: But I need to ask you a question first.

M: (mind spinning!)

P: or maybe we should go shopping first, and then I should ask you the question...

M: (stunned silence, terrified to hope)

P: (more to himself than me) I'm not sure the best way to do this. Question first or shopping first...

M: (remembering that Pirate has a habit of saying things that are open to a variety of interpretations) You realize how this sounds, don't you? My mind is spinning. If you're talking about going grocery shopping because you're low on yogurt and bananas, please Please PLEASE for the love of all that's holy -- disillusion me right. now.

P: I know how it sounds.

M: (waiting)

P: (also waiting. for what? invitation from the Queen?) I don't know if I should ask you the question first or if we should go shopping first.

M: If you can't decide, then I will. Question first.

P: (more silence)

P: (still more silence)

M: (gives P kiss for reassurance)

P: (squirming)...

M: (eventually deciding that P has painted himself into a corner and in need of a rescue) If it's that hard to spit out, this obviously isn't the time. You wanna go to the gym?

P: (leaping out of bed) Yes! Let's go to the gym! (bounces like Tigger into his gym shorts)

M: *sigh*


progress. definately progress. I decided to let it lie. I genuinely don't want to pressure him. Then last weekend:

Sunday night Pirate says (in the course of a long, silly conversation about nothing in particular), "I'm really happy with life the way it is. I don't feel the need to change it."
I, of course, am slightly concerned by this seeming turn of events, but it was late at night, and I'm shit at discussions late at night. I get all emotional and cry at the drop of a hat and nothing is ever accomplished, so I decided to forget it.

The next morning we had a few minutes before he had to be off for work. I was packing my bags and he sat down beside me. Perfect opportunity.
"Perhaps you could clear something up for me," say I. "Remember your little waffle a couple weeks ago when you couldn't decide to go shopping or ask me a question and ended up doing neither?"
"Yes"
"I'm just a little confused, because that seems to conflict with what you said last night. Could you clarify that for me?"
"Oh! Last night I meant that I was happy with the universe in general. I don't need superpowers or anything to be happy. I just meant that I'm happy the way I am, and life is good. And I've worked out that other matter. You'll find out next weekend."


Well! That was far more of an explanation than I'd hoped for. (And when I thought about it later, I realized what a romantic thing he'd said. We had been talking about silly party questions like 'If you could have any one animal part as part of our body, what would it be?' and that kind of stuff. But he's genuinely, completely happy with his life and himself, and that's a hell of a thing. It really is.) And the 'next weekend' of which he spoke is this coming weekend. I haven't done a lick of work all week. I'm all a-twitter. My brain is everywhere except where it should be.

So kiddies. Be here Monday afternoon (Greenwich time), and maybe, just maybe, there will be an exciting announcement here at M.E.


(and if the suspense is killing you, just imagine what it's doing to me!)

Danger, danger Will Robinson!

Someone from my high school past has found me and is commenting anonymously! Ooh, spooky! Who could it be? How did he/she/it find me? Did they lurk for a time and slowly put together the clues, remember the personality, and work out who I was? Was it someone who came looking for my internet identity specifically? Was it someone to whom I gave the URL a long time ago and completely forgot they had it? I knew a LOT of people in high school, but had very, very few friends. Is this person friend or foe?

Lets unravel the clues and see if we can narrow it down, shall we?

• The first thing we know is that Anon. is someone who knew me before 1996, and knew me well enough to remember that I hit a deer with my car. (It was a new/old car as well, my very first time driving it to school. A giant, gentle, lumbering 1987 Buick LaSabre in manatee grey. I liked that car, but it forever had the shadow of that tragic day over it.) This suggests it was one of my inner coven: Jayson, Steve, Rick, Joe, or Jacob. (Yes, all guys. I didn't get along very well with girls. They were mostly 2-faced and shrill.) There are a couple teachers who might, conceivably, have remembered the incident, but Mrs. L. is too busy to spend hours on t'internet playing with blogs, same with MEM. I could possibly see Art Cynic hanging out in blogland, but he wouldn't play goofy games of hide-and-seek in the comments. He'd just insult me and be done with it. So let's stick with the list of friends we've got going.
  

• The second thing we notice in Anon's comment under the post about locking myself out is that he uses capitals and punctuation marks correctly, and does not abbreviate anything. This likely eliminates Jayson. We haven't kept in touch in years, but he would be more the type to write with more internet jargon and slang.

• The next comment is also revealing. This is an individual who doesn't trust assumptions, but likes to have facts confirmed before presenting a response. A lower-case "i" notwithstanding, everything is still correctly spelled and punctuated, a true rarity in these short-cut times. It's a professional, almost legalistic attention to detail. Finally, there is the phrase "blue marble," a metaphor for the Earth. Our Anonymous commentor has something of the poet about him. That eliminates Steve, bless his methodical heart.

• Next comment: ooh, now we come to it! A Star Wars reference! That could easily have been Jayson, Steve, or Joe, and we've already eliminated Jayson and Steve. I had been leaning towards Rick, on the grounds that if it had been Joe there would have been a sexual innuendo by now. But neither Rick nor Jacob would never use a Star Wars reference; couldn't never see what all the fuss was about. The rest of us were all proper freaks, tho. And Joe was always good for a laugh, like to play and tell jokes.

THEREFORE: based on the three comments in the previous post, my guess is that my anonymous commenting friend is none other than Joe Price: mathematician, pianist, and comic extrordinaire!

If I'm right, reveal (or indeed revile) yourself now! If I'm wrong, give us another clue?