The Evil Lamp

In 1981 the late actor David Niven wrote a novel, Go Slowly, Come Back Quickly.  I recalled the book a couple of days ago as I bade farewell to the month of February, wishing it to go quickly and come back slowly.  It had promised to be such a happy month, scattered as it was with family birthdays and anniversaries, but things unravelled fairly quickly from the time I turned up for a routine blood test - the type the doctor sends you on after you reach what they think is the geriatric stage of your life.

Nurse Dracula couldn't get blood out of the vein in my arm, but after a lot of poking and prodding, she finally got her fill.  Meanwhile I was doing one of those inside-your-head screams.  Within a day my arm looked as though it had been stamped on by a horse.  Hisself and I joked that the neighbours would think there had been a little bit of a domestic going on in Chez Fudge. 

Two nights later they had even more reason to believe that something was amiss.  I woke a little after midnight finding myself screaming.  I had a sore head and was covered in shattered glass.  Apparently when you are woken violently from a deep sleep, you instinctively scream, well, at least I do. 

By the time poor Tony had leapt out of bed and turned on the light, it became clear that somehow my bedside lamp had come crashing down on my head, which sustained a small cut.  I am not good with blood.
 

After we looked at the chaos, we slowly ealised what had happened.  I had a stack of books on top of some other books set between bookends.  Slowly, over a couple of hours, the books slid down, knocking over the lamp onto my head, shattering into literally thousands of pieces. 

Here is a picture of the Good Lamp on Tony's pristine bedside table...

... and here is  a picture of the Evil Lamp on my not-so-tidy bedside table.  Spot the difference?  I have promised myself to cull the books and mags so that it will look like this really soon ...

... but not quite yet.  Too many books to finish.

The neighbours hadn't called the police, so we were in the clear.  A couple of days later the needle in my sewing machine snapped in half, sending the pointy end with pinpoint accuracy onto my face.  Another little scream.

Last Friday I was overlocking a dress for our BiDM Market this Saturday and didn't notice that the extension cord had somehow become tangled around my sewing chair.  I stood up, became caught up in the cord and, yes, well, I screamed again as the overlocker came crashing to the floor.  It did not survive.  By now our neighbours are convinced that I am married to a monster, and don't forget I have the bruised arm to prove it.

With the market deadline looming and no other option, it was time to make the painful decision to buy a new overlocker.

Luckily the next morning I located a dealer close by who had a special on this Janome.  With the retired machine sulking away in the background, at least I finished the month with a new, if unwanted, overlocker.

So I say welcome to March.  It is a very soggy start to Autumn with most of the State sitting under tropical rain, but at least the dams are filling and the local butcher birds have found shelter under the eaves. 

All's well in the world.