bargaining for relief

BARGAINING FOR RELIEF

I survived the evening at my parents!

Actually, it was a good night - I enjoyed myself. Both parents were in a rather jovial mood - I think dad's was aided by the bottle of red wine he'd managed to consume. Mum was relaxed because she'd done a buffet instead of a cooked meal and as such wasn't jumping up and down every 30 seconds to tend to something.

The food, I have to say, was fantastic. My mum really knows how to cook. I mean really. And last night was the last night of food-freedom for me - more about that another time - so I decided to indulge and enjoy. She made the most incredible chicken, ham and leek pie, spicy potato wedges, green salads, pasta salad, cooked ham and beef, and freshly baked bread. What can I say but mmmmmmm.

Dessert, however, was in a class of its own. Chocolate truffle torte. Divine.

Think rich Belgian chocolate with fresh cream and brandy, topped with Amaretti biscuits. Very very rich. Very very delicious. I wish you could taste it.

The best bit though was after dinner. We all went to sit in the lounge. DH, being socially inept, took full advantage of the fact that J2 has a PS2 in his bedroom, and the two of them disappeared upstairs for several hours. Which meant that I was able to relax and enjoy the company of my family. We laughed, told jokes, watched dads new DVD - a very politically incorrect comedian who shall remain nameless. We ate more chocolate when mum brought out the Thorntons Continental. Some fell asleep. It was lovely. A nice way to bring in the New Year.

I crawled into bed at about midnight again last night - just ahead of DH. But the second I got into bed, the pain started again in my leg. It's my calf that is really bothering me at the moment, not my foot. I don't know whether its cramp or some other muscular thing, but it is damn agony. And of course with the cast extending up to my knee, I can't massage it or anything.

So I'm lying in bed, just starting the whole writing in pain thing, and thinking that I'll go downstairs and take a couple more painkillers when DH comes to bed. After a few mintues he asks me if I am in pain. Yes, I am, it should be obvious from the fact that I am stifling moans and can't lie still. Do I want my painkillers? Oh yes please. So this is where he becomes the DH that we have got to know so very well. I'm still reeling from the shock myself. He'll go and get them, he says, if (and it pains me to type this) I will give him a blow job when he comes back. WHAT????? Did I mishear him? I'm lying there writhing in pain and he wants me to bargain for my painkillers by giving him a blow job????? Now, I don't normally swear but NO FUCKING WAY!!!!! Not in this lifetime. He then proceeds to tease me - asking me how much do I want the painkillers. Not that fucking much, arsehole. I'm almost in tears - almost - but I decide that I'll tackle the stairs and get them for myself. At that point he gets out of bed and wanders off to get them, muttering something about how I am all 'take take take'.

I'm sure it doesn't need saying, but he didn't get the blow job and I slept on the very very edge of the bed.

I think we can brush that episode swiftly aside.

Actually, it could have been amusing. He must have momentarily forgotten that I don't do blow jobs. And the reason for that (aside from the obvious......) is because I have TMJ. Temporo-Mandibular Jaw. Which means that sometimes my jaw can just clamp shut, just like that. Locked. Tight. Ouch. Could have been funny and bloody....