Nice weather for duck tape

Last night Jason proved what a wonderful husband he is. I was sitting there on the bed, sticking bits of duck tape to the soles of my feet and he appeared not to notice. There are medical reasons for the duck tape: I went to the doctor complaining about verrucas and she told me that one proven method for removing them DIY style is to stick heavy tape to them. Honestly, it’s true, she gave me a leaflet about it. I did want to be sent to a chiropodist but instead she offered me a visit to the practice nurse who would have a bash at squirting liquid nitrogen onto my foot warts. Apparently you don’t get chiropodism on the nhs. I am a bit alarmed by the have-a-go tendency of the doctors and nurses at my local practice, they are all for cutting bits off you in the consulting room. Why bother the hospital is their motto. Rather than allow a nurse who’s done a one day course in laser eye surgery loose on my appendages, I decided to try the tape idea. So that is why I was sticking bits of duck tape to my feet, and Jason, long acquainted with me being a martyr to my feet, wisely chose to ignore what I was doing. The way I’d put it is that he saw, but did not observe. Perhaps in some way, this defines marriage. The same thing happens when those in long relationships speak to one another and appear to hear, but are merely maintaining the appearance of listening and then go off and do whatever they were going to do anyway. This saves so much time and prevents aggro and conflict, and is a technique often recommended by Relate counsellors.

Rose had a lovely day improving her fine motor skills (amazing fingertip control when stroking different fabrics and ribbons), but had a bit of a freakout at bedtime when she was woken up by fireworks. I had a lovely moment in the afternoon sitting beside Jason who was reading the internet, with Rose fast asleep on my shoulder after a feed. I let her lie there for a couple of minutes just enjoying the heaviness of her head and contented warmth and felt all cosy in the bosom of my family.


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