MIA MEΡΑ ΧΩΡΙΣ MS
ΔημοσίευσηΔημοσιεύτηκε:Παρ Ιαν 31, 2014 8:43 pm
Αντιγραφή από το blog http://stumblinginflats.com , sorry για τα αγγλικά, αλλά είμαι λίγο θολομένη για να μεταφράσω....
A Day Off From MS
Last night, after being woken in the wee small hours yet again with nerve pain and unable to get back to sleep, my mind wandered.
Just what would it be like to have one full day off from MS? How amazing would that be?
I would spring out of bed, full of beans and head straight for a boiling hot bath, using up my dusty bottle of Matey bubbles. No non-slip bath mat today, no pesky heat intolerance.
After a long soak, I’d deftly apply my make up, managing to execute a perfect sweep of eyeliner. I’d get dressed easily, no fumbling over buttons, no tripping over my feet and I’d be able to wear jeans I haven’t fitted in over two years. And heels! Beautiful heels. How I’ve missed you. I’d put them on and not take them off all day. I would sashay everywhere. I would stride, head held high. No looking at the pavements.
In fact, I’d take the day off work and spend it walking. Just walking, even in heels. And I’d go to cute little gift shops where I’d be unafraid of picking up glass ornaments or bumping into things or small children. I’d find a really hot, really busy cafe and spend a stress-free hour sipping a coffee, people-watching. I’d call up friends out of the blue, suggesting a night out later. I’d know for sure I’d still have the energy.
On the way home I’d do all my shopping in one go, undaunted by the crowds, balancing the bags easily, going through my long list from memory. Back home, I’d wrap and label all the gifts then cook a fiendishly complex recipe from scratch. I’d spring clean my entire house. I’d even dig out the feather duster. Then I’d do a whole pile of ironing. And spend a couple of hours weeding the garden, all before slipping in to something fabulous (with my heels, natch) and get ready to go out.
The evening would pass in a happy blur of catching up with long-neglected friends. I’d charm them with my wit and fast responses. I’d remember the punchlines to long jokes, I’d carry five drinks at a time back from the bar.
I wouldn’t come back til gone midnight, falling happily in to bed. Then I’d wake in the wee small hours. With nerve pain…
A Day Off From MS
Last night, after being woken in the wee small hours yet again with nerve pain and unable to get back to sleep, my mind wandered.
Just what would it be like to have one full day off from MS? How amazing would that be?
I would spring out of bed, full of beans and head straight for a boiling hot bath, using up my dusty bottle of Matey bubbles. No non-slip bath mat today, no pesky heat intolerance.
After a long soak, I’d deftly apply my make up, managing to execute a perfect sweep of eyeliner. I’d get dressed easily, no fumbling over buttons, no tripping over my feet and I’d be able to wear jeans I haven’t fitted in over two years. And heels! Beautiful heels. How I’ve missed you. I’d put them on and not take them off all day. I would sashay everywhere. I would stride, head held high. No looking at the pavements.
In fact, I’d take the day off work and spend it walking. Just walking, even in heels. And I’d go to cute little gift shops where I’d be unafraid of picking up glass ornaments or bumping into things or small children. I’d find a really hot, really busy cafe and spend a stress-free hour sipping a coffee, people-watching. I’d call up friends out of the blue, suggesting a night out later. I’d know for sure I’d still have the energy.
On the way home I’d do all my shopping in one go, undaunted by the crowds, balancing the bags easily, going through my long list from memory. Back home, I’d wrap and label all the gifts then cook a fiendishly complex recipe from scratch. I’d spring clean my entire house. I’d even dig out the feather duster. Then I’d do a whole pile of ironing. And spend a couple of hours weeding the garden, all before slipping in to something fabulous (with my heels, natch) and get ready to go out.
The evening would pass in a happy blur of catching up with long-neglected friends. I’d charm them with my wit and fast responses. I’d remember the punchlines to long jokes, I’d carry five drinks at a time back from the bar.
I wouldn’t come back til gone midnight, falling happily in to bed. Then I’d wake in the wee small hours. With nerve pain…
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με ολους....
