Insomnia, backache and a coughing minxette
The above title is the reason that this post is being written.
Put it this way, it is hideous a.m. where I am, also known as the middle of the night. It’s a bit bloody much, quite frankly. But hey, what’s a Minx to do?
I mean, insomnia. Doncha just LOVE it? Ha. Not. I have suffered bouts of insomnia for years and years, since I were naught but a Minxette myself. Normally it’s not so bad, but if I am woken from a sleep, it will always take me at least 2 hours to feel sleepy again.
Which is a major pisser, especially at this time of night.
The Minxette has a cold, poor little thing. Which means she coughs and sniffles all night. And tonight she managed to cough herself awake, which led to howling, which then led to her mother braving the ghosties and ghoulies and things that go bump in the night (generally the young Manx’s power ranger motorcycle toy under my unslippered and delicate foot, grrrr) and getting up to comfort her.
Hey, I’m not *entirely* evil you know. Not 24*7 anyway…
To digress for a moment – funny thing. I ran into my cousin (with whom I’d recently visited, with the whole clan in tow — hey, she has a garden/back yard, and we live in an apartment, so it had to be done) when I was visiting the stiffs the other day.
(Stiffs: vernacular, North of England, slang and slightly derogatory term for one’s parents, circa 1988)
She watched the trolls as they gambolled merrily, running around and playing at a speed and frequency that nearly made my ears bleed, and smiled fondly.
“She’s such a cutie that one,” she said, indicating the young Minxette (young Manx having disappeared in search of adults with chocolate and an indulgent nature — he found one too! but I digress. Again.) “I wrote your Dad an email about what a little minx she was. That’s what I call her in my head, “the Minx”…”
Laugh? I nearly shat. How singularly appropriate. And how perceptive of my cousin.
Mind you, it doesn’t surprise me. She and I have always been in tune on that kind of level, and as cousins go, she’s the best.
I didn’t mention anything about my Minxion identity — anonymity here protects the innocent as well as myself — but I thought it was utterly hilarious, and worth sharing with y’all.
Back to the original story. I comfort the young Minxette, trying with all my many (ha!) powers to get some cough mixture down her (“drink, child, goddammit!”), and fail fairly dismally. i can tell by the head-shaking, ostentatiously closed mouth, and evil – and yes! minxy – glint of rebellion ever-present in her eye. I lift her onto the kitchen counter and feel my lower back wince in pain that would signal a week of horizontal, spasming Minx (and not in a good way) if that hadn’t already happened 10 days ago. Fortunately my body is still enjoying the after-effects of the pain medication that I ingested over said time period, so it’s only a small ache and nothing crippling. This time. But it was enough to trigger the insomnia… I just couldn’t get comfortable again.
What a pisser.
Still, you got a post out of me, so don’t complain. Share my woes and laugh with me.
Fuck it, if you don’t laugh, you cry.
Be well, y’all. Sleep tight.