I actually feel more sick now, than floaty, but there was a point today, while I was rolling away at the ceiling, when I just know I wasn't all there!

I had a safely mask on too- I know, I'm a wimp.
There is a story about me having once 'whited' on a perfectly legal tobacco rollie. It's quite true- although it was rolled about half an inch wide and thickly packed, in my defence.

Well, the reason for the paint is the King and Queenie Come To Stay extravaganza.
Honestly, Steve and I have been in the spare room for most of the day, tidying, sorting, fixing, painting, cleaning.

I'm not looking forward to this weekend, at all (Phoenix, I would almost envy the silence you face, if it wasn't a hostile one), because I just know, that even if I stay in my room for the whole time, I will not escape the beady eyes and steely tongue of Her Highness.
I almost found myself wishing the paint fumes would linger- but that's too nasty, so I don't finish the thought.

To make things worse, though, it's Steve's birthday today, and he has had one of the worst days.
We had to endure lunch at Camp Chaos, a beach walk with 'Nnoying Nephew, manual labour as above from 3 until 9 when I said enough was enough. On top of all that, he only got one present for his birthday- a HUGE tube of gourmet jelly beans, which he is only allowed to each ten of a day.
One pressie has been held up in the post, he's yet to decide what he wants from me, and no one else bothered to get him anything...

It was Steve's Granddad's birthday, so he really wanted to lay some flowers.

His Mum and Dad took us up, and provided the flowers (Bless), and nuts for the squirrels.

I always get a bit emotional at that place.
Understandably, you might think, but not for the obvious reason.

I have no Grandparent's now, like Steve. Unlike Steve, however, I wouldn't know where to go to pay my respects.
I can't remember them on their birthdays, since I was too young to remember when they were, ditto for the dates they passed away.

Apart from my paternal Grandpa. He passed on just a couple of years ago.
Obviously, I'd have been able to remember that, right? Wrong, because at the time, no one else in the family thought to inform me.

Now, you ought to know something about my family before I go on: we are not a close one, outside of my immediate family, and even that unit seems to have splintered in recent years (some of which I do take responsibility for).
Much of the relevant information is rather too personal to reveal here, but I will own up to running away at aged 19, and to not having returned home for longer than a week or two at at time, on a visiting basis.

There was once a time, when I would call my parents every week, but things would soon become strained between my mother and I, and following some argument or other, I'd not phone again for a while. After rinsing and repeating a few times, with both of us suffering health-wise, I made a pact with my Dad, that since Mum and I both got too upset when I did, I would stop ringing them. This, on the condition that should anything happen that I needed to be told (emergencies, Mum going into hospital, that sort of thing), he would call me.

Now, I'm not saying I was close to my Grandpa, as I already mentioned, our family was not like that. But, I would personally think, that the death and subsequent funeral of any relative would fall under the "Emergency" category. Wouldn't you agree?

Right, exactly.
I didn't find out until last year, when my sister happened to mention it, thinking that I'd known for ages.

It makes me wonder sometimes, what else am I not being told?

So, anyway, the point is, all I can really do, at the Crem, whilst Steve and his family bicker about who was scattered where, is remember all the people I've lost: Nana, Granddad, Auntie Jan, childhood friend Sian, and hope that wherever they are, they know I still think of them, despite appearances being sometimes to the contrary.

So, I always end up feeling just a little bit contemplative, as you can see here...

It's been one hell of a day, and I really appreciate the back up, I do.

My day from hell started at 1 o'clock this morning, when I went upstairs to bed, after spending a little time on my new Wii game.
Steve, who I had thought to be in bed already, wasn't. He was on his computer still, and obviously bothered by something.
Turns out he'd been having pain in his chest (left side), since the night before, and hadn't told me because he didn't want me to worry.
Cue me, worrying.

We got his mum up, who is slightly more rational than myself in tense situations, and she checked him over, deeming him to be in no immediate danger.
Regardless, when we went back to bed, I couldn't sleep. I was very tired (hence the coming to bed in the first place), and this fact probably didn't help when it came to calming the awful thinks coming through my head.
But, I couldn't stop myself from just lying there, just to make sure he was still breathing, y'know?
I did eventually go off, obviously.

Anyway, so this morning, when we got up, he was fine (he said), and proceeded to bustle round the house, doing chores. But eventually, he came out with the truth, that he was still getting pains, but thought that exercise might help.
Go figure...

So, I banned him from working, intending to spend the day making sure he rested, and had a peaceful one, like you do.

Unfortunately, his parents and their *grits teeth* friend had other ideas.
You may or may not have picked up, by now, that Steve has a weight problem. No one person to blame, took a very long time to get to where it is, and it'll be hard work fixing it.
He knows that.
He wants to try.
He does try, and I do all the encouraging that I can (Steve is a stubborn one, and if he gets nagged too much about something, he is liable to dig his heels in and do the complete opposite).

Anyway, this morning, after having the night we did, "Friend", let's call her Queenie, decides she is popping in for a cup of tea. Now, Queenie is the sort of person who pulls no punches, she says whatever she thinks, no matter what feelings stand to be hurt. I normally steer clear of the firing line.
She starts laying into Steve about not having written in his food diary for a few days (Like it's her business, anyway?).

Now, I knew that he didn't need that to be dealing with, as well as being ill, so I broke my cardinal rule, and spoke up for him, and out against her Highness going on.
And like lightning, she turns on me "Orf with her head!"

Well, not really, but basically.
She intimated that I didn't care about Steven as much as she did, because she's known him longer. She came out and actually said that I was spineless and thought all this healthy eating stuff was a game. And that it didn't matter to me that Steve could die any minute.

I made my excuses and left the room.
I went to our room, like nothing was wrong, curled up on the bed, and spent the rest of the morning bawling my eyes out.

I mean, how dare she?!
Of course, I was worried about Steve, all I do is worry about Steve and his parents. And, if I had a quid for every time the thought of something awful happening to any of them, we'd all be living in the Caribbean with nothing to worry about any more.
How could she imply that I didn't love him, after what I'd gone through last night?
I do not make judgments about her life, nor do I pretend to know what is going on with her and her kids/grandkids. Nor do I question her relationship with her husband (who is also an arrogant git).

Gods know, I have never been so angry in my life.
I used the word hate to describe my feelings towards another human being, this morning. I never use that word, lightly.

After finding me screaming into my pillow, Steve tried to talk to Queenie, get her to apologise, but no dice. I wouldn't have expected anything else.
But, I'm not going to even look at her until she does.

This weekend should be a barrel of laughs: the King and Queen are staying at our house Friday/Saturday, for Steve's birthday meal.
I will find myself sharing a dinner table with them.

I can hardly wait.

How on this green Earth did Chris Fountain not win Dancing on Ice?
We, that is me, Steve and his Mum, all voted for him twice.

He was BY FAR the best performer in ALL of his dances tonight.
I mean, "Dancing on ICE"...the first program, both girls were on the actual ice for less than 5 seconds between them, and yet Suzanne Shaw gets 30?!?

If he's ill, I'm a monkey's uncle.

And, Nanny is totally buying it.

I don't like to speak ill of my elders, unless they deserve it. And, this time, she does.
It's no wonder he's such a pansified brat.
All he has to do is turn on the water works, and he gets his own way every time.

She is taking him swimming today, despite being shattered after this morning's episode.

I swear by all the Gods there ever were, and will be, when the time finally comes for Steve and I to have a kid, it will not turn out like Adam.

I'm not saying he's all bad, because he can be quite sweet, but seriously...there is only so much crap one can take.
My kids will be polite, truthful, disciplined, and they will understand the word "No".

It is 8am, and the house rings with the sound of wailing.

Did we leave the cooker on last night? Would I walk out into the sight of flames licking up the stairway, the blue lights of a fire engine flashing through the window?

Bleary-eyed, I crack open the bedroom door. Surely, some disaster that warranted an interruption to my carefully planned Sunday lounge-about?

No. Nothing of the sort.
Adam is crouched in the bathroom, clutching the toilet bowl, and lamenting at the top of his 'little' voice about a stomach ache.
The worst that ever was, apparently.

Nanny is on hand, with lots of sympathy and calming words.
"Where does it hurt?" she asks, her words practically dripping with pity and anguish.
"Every...where," came the wrought, distorted reply.

"Hang on...just a minute," thinks I, my own comforting thoughts caught in my throat. "What sort of a tummy ache hurts everywhere?"
I mean, I get a thousand and one different kinds of aches daily, and I wouldn't describe one of them as hurting 'everywhere'.

But, the thought that he is a only a child, without a clear idea of how pain really works, and a much less varied vocabulary than my own.
I give him the benefit of the doubt, for a minute or two, as I follow the pair of them into Nanny's room.

The sobbing has stopped, almost as soon as they had crossed the threshold.
And, the reason? He's being fed medicine, I see.
"Maybe he's not faking..." I mean, who take medicine if they don't need it, right?
But still, nephew is remarkably calmer than he was mere moments ago.

"Does it still hurt?" I ask, trying to keep the skepticism out of my words.
He shakes his head, rather a bit too enthusiastically for someone who was all but dying seconds before.

"I think it's migraine," says his Nan. (Don't laugh, stomach migraines are actually quite common in children, I hear.) "Maybe, its cramp? I've been up with him since 4."
"Oh, dear," I lament, this time my voice is dripping, only with sarcasm. "Does this mean he can't go swimming today? And, he was so excited about it, too. Perhaps, you'd better lay down, Adam. Rest your tummy."

"Auntie Sam?" he says, eagerly picking up his DS and Pokémon game.
"Not this morning," I cut in, knowing that he's going to ask me to play with him. "You need to rest today. Best get back to bed."

And there he is, still, bottom lip the size of a small country, playing by himself, and clearly bored.
Steve thinks he shouldn't even have his DS, but I can't think of a reason convincing enough to make that particular battle worth while.

And it's been a while since I've been hyper, I promise you.
I guess the Happy Pills are finally starting to work.

That, and the fact that, besides actually feeling achy still, nothing has gone wrong today.

Nothing. And how often does that happen?

Okay, so the shops were a bit stressful, packed and so stuffy (why do they insist on pumping warm air into those places all day?), but I managed to find a new Funkey!

It was just sitting on the shelf, waiting for me- a Rare Fallout, just the colour I wanted!
And, Steve let me get a pre-owned copy of Endless Ocean for my Wii. Been after it for a while, but haven't seen it in the few times I've been out since. anyway, I had a little go earlier, and I'm not disappointed.
It's exactly my sort of game, not guns, no fighting, no manual dexterity required in order to pull off impossible feats of agility, just a wonderfully relaxed gaming experience.

Also, heard from the CCCS today, not going into this too much, but it was good news for a change.

Wales won the Rugby!
Now, I don't follow sport much, and have more productive things to do usually, but anyone who knows me will tell you, I am very patriotic when it comes to Wales, and as such, did actually pay attention to the half of the match (Is that the right word? I get the feeling it isn't somehow).
And, boy, am I glad I did!
What a feeling that was.

I watched I'd Do Anything after that.
Had to...John Barrowman. I don't think I need to say more than that, really ;)
But, to think, we get to see him two nights a week now, with this and Torchwood.
*Swoons like a teenaged drama queen*

Sorry about that...

So, I sit again, having not blogged for a day or two.
Bad girl, Sammy!

Went to bed completely shattered, at about- Gods, I don't even really remember the time- anyway, Steve and I took Adam, and Mike, for a walk along the beach yesterday.

Mad idea. It was sooo windy, and because I didn't want to look like a loon, I had decided against wearing my warm, ear-snuggling winter hat, and just wore a cap.
My ears hurt so bad, even worse than the pain in my legs and knees from the walk.

So, naturally, I was expecting trouble this morning, and sure enough, the pain well and truly brung itself. *Nice English, I know...*

The 'rents had a day out today, so we've had pretty much the whole day to ourselves, so I didn't feel bad about lounging about in my jammies, watching TV all morning.

After that, I did my work. 2 units, plus an assessment and an exercise (don't worry, I know what I'm talking about).
Did my crappiest EVER on the assessment, which is a testament to how bad I was feeling- 82%...I was mortified, but was content to sigh, shrug, and vow to make up for it come revision time. And, anyone who knows me will tell you how completely not like me that is!

So, Dr. Steven prescribed an evening of frivolity in the form of a major Guild Wars session.
Seriously, we haven't played for months, but I forgot how much fun it was to hack baddies to pieces with my kick-ass assassin and her Shredders, not to mention raining down massive blocks of flaming stone, and watching the Elementals drop like flies, with my Ele.
Very cathartic, or whatever the word is.

I also really enjoyed tea.
It was nothing special, really, but it was a nice meal, y'know? Well cooked food, good company and conversation. Mike really has become a more pleasant person to be around lately.

I am a little worried about Steve though. He seems to be doing ok with the 'lifestyle change' thing this time, but he tends to lose interest after a week or so, and I really don't want it to go that way again...Will try harder to be supportive and encouraging.

Steve and I were having a conversation the other night, and he said something that completely blew me away.

Next year, we will have known each other for ten years.
We've been together for almost a decade!

Us, the couple that were thrown together on a blind date, for a joke (not that we knew that at the time).
No one thought we'd last. And, believe me when I say that we have been through that which most couples would not come out from (I was a bad girl-Nuff said?).

There is a list, as long as my arm, of people who've tried, and ultimately failed to split us up. And to all of you, who know who you are, from us, have a rigidly extended middle finger for your troubles, because we're not going anywhere.

I mean, I don't know what is so bad about us being together, people just don't 'get it' I guess...oh, well, their problem.

Unfortunately I'd only written the titles, as reminders to me about what I was going to write (I was in Migraine-ville, you understand...)

Anyway, the upshot of that is, me being me, I've forgotten exactly what immortal words I was intending to impart upon you all.

I'll do my best though...Judging by the title, I'd just woken up from an horrific nightmare, and wanted to share its freakiness with you.

I have at least one nightmare a night, more often I have a string of nightmares that meld into one another, and cross over.

It's odd because when I was younger, living at home, I never had nightmares, ever. I was even jealous of my best friend, who use to enthral me with tales of her night-time demons on the school bus.

Which is kind of ironic when you consider the recurring themes in mine; the first and foremost of which is School.
I'm either with school friends, going to school, late for class, I always seem to have lost something (most often my bag), forgotten which lesson I'm supposed to be in.

Other recurring themes:

• Toilets. Do not laugh.
  It must be something to do with being humiliated in public or something, coupled with a deep-seated fear of becoming incontinent.
• Dr.Who/Torchwood. Again, don't laugh.
  If you're having trouble with a scary dude, who better to help you save the day than the Doctor, or equally sexy Captain Jack? Need I say more?
• Mummies, skeletons
• Needles, the hypodermic kind
• My family
• Being dead/a ghost

And on, and on.

Now, I have no idea what all that means, psychologically, and I've had to stop telling Steve exactly what happens in them, because he gets freaked out by how messed up they are.

I do, on and off, watch a lot of horror, listen to horror novels, read horror books. I mean you just have to look at some of my lists here to see that, but saying that, I like cutesy, childlike, happy stuff too.

Bah.

I really dunno where this blog entry was/is going but, you get the picture.

Haven't really felt like blogging these last couple of days.

Seem to have spent them being angry at 'grown ups', and parents (mine and Steve's) in particular, but in a bizarre testimonial to my upbringing, I cannot disclose much of it.

What I can say is:

1. I'm sick of being lied to.
2. I'm sick of excuses.
3. I'm sick of being the only one trying.
4. I'm sick of 'paying dues'.
5. I hate talking to myself.
6. I'm disappointed that Steve and I always seem to come last.
7. *Sigh* ever feel totally taken for granted?

Oh, Gods...it's one of those EMO posts.

Fear not (if you were fearing at all), I'm not about to run away.

Been there, done that.
Best and worst thing I ever did.
Not to be repeated.

But, grrr...My so-called Elders really piss me off sometimes.

Not that I'm lying every other time I've said that, but just trying to get across that I'm really not exaggerating, here.

Started this morning (obviously, you twit!), woke up for first alarm (8am), then fell back to sleep and missed the next 2 (8:30, 9), and had an absolutely awful nightmare (you do not want to know the details, trust me).

Next, after breakfast, decided to tag along with Steve's parents, who were going into town. Silly me, it being Saturday, as well as Market Day, and being the day before Mother's day.
And, to top it all, I offered to take Adam (oldest nephew, 6, and often very annoying).
So that was fun! *hee*
Not.

Next, after coming home, and picking up Steve, we went for a ramble in the woods.
And that was fun, apart from the messes some people seem to take pleasure in leaving behind.
I mean, blimey, we don't even have a dog, and I was carrying poop bags (we were dog sitting, btw, I don't have some strange and bizarre poop bag fetish).
Not to mention rusty bicycles thrown into the stream.

When we got back, I lost a couple of hours to my PC...haven't a clue what I was doing.

Cooked my own tea (sort of), to try and give Steve a bit of a night off from me nagging at him.

Played some Mystery Dungeon, badly. Died three times in the same dungeon, and it wasn't even a very long one. Browsed a few spaces from the Recently Updated box.

Went downstairs with Steve, and watched Hackers.
Absolutely essential 90s film viewing there, and very funny to watch these days.
I mean, seriously, a 28.8 bps modem?
Did they even exist?!
And it was on dial-up too!
I must have watch this film almost a hundred times in my life, but it's only tonight that I was able to fathom what that actually was in terms of speed.
Great film though, Matthew Lillard rocks.

After that it was back up here, switch on the PC and check Space. I have a message in my guestbook (yippee!), send a reply to Phoenix, who I swear must be my twin or something (who knows with my family history, right?).

To present.

I really hope the length of this post expresses just how drawn out my day has been, if only so you can understand why I'm staying in bed tomorrow ;)

Which is what the title means, btw.

I probably should say, that although born in Chester, having spent most of my life in Wales, and being fluent in the language, I consider myself Welsh.

Saint David's Day is as big a deal to me as Saint Patrick's Day is to the Irish.

That's not to say I get bevvied up, and parade the streets, mind.

But I will definitely be counting daffodils today!

I love that they're out on time this year. It's so special.

I mean, c'mon...who can see a daffodil and not smile?