Next time you catch sight of a bloke in the supermarket grabbing his crotch and making a spectacle of himself, maybe don’t be so quick to judge.
After my midweek visit to see Tracey in Brisbane, I arrived back in Gympie just before the supermarkets shut.
I really should grab some bread for lunches, I thought to myself, because you only need to wake up one morning and discover there’s nothing to make sandwiches with to cement how important a little pre-planning is. I figured Grandma wouldn’t mind a further fifteen minute delay.
Jumping out of the car I had to hoist my jeans up. You know how sometimes they loosen up a bit over the course of the day? Well, this was the second day I’d worn them, so it crossed my mind I should have put a belt on this morning.
Three times from the car to the shopping centre entrance I had to reef them up. Happily, I remembered I was wearing some of my newer jocks, and I even chuckled a little, thinking I must look like a wannabe homey from behind.
By the time I arrived at the trolley bay, though, things were getting ridiculous – my left hand was permanently latched onto the top of my jeans with my elbow sticking out form my side like a chicken wing.
And still they felt at risk of falling down.
I put my phone into my mouth and reached down with my right hand and grabbed my belt buckle, dangling from under my shirt.
So I did put on a belt, I thought to myself. But then…
Which was when I remembered how, rather than being loose, my jeans were actually pinching me fairly hard back around Caboolture on the drive home.
Which was why I’d unbuttoned them and undid my belt.
Which is why they were now threatening to tangle up around my ankles.
Meaning I just became that bloke at the supermarket grabbing at his crotch and making a spectacle of himself. Please don’t judge me.
The lastest on my lovely wife is she’s now been moved to her own room, which is nice. Less snoring. Less traffic. More sleep.
Tracey also phoned me up this morning a bit chuffed with herself because she’d managed to stand up, unaided, at the sink and wash her hands, which is yet another step forward. They’re looking at putting some sort of ink through her this week to give them an idea of how things are progressing in terms of leaks and blockages, which again is fantastic news.
But the best news is a message I received from Tracey yesterday.
There’s nothing like a bit of boredom in your day to let you know things are progressing beyond the threat of imminent death.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”