You know you’re in for a good time when a nice lady at the chemist directs you through a door with a sign saying Hook-up In Progress, and she didn’t disappoint.
This week I’ve been having a LOT of tests done. For one thing, I’m so tired of being tired. I mean, the problem isn’t I like a nice afternoon nap on the lounge as much as the next man, it’s that I can’t seem to function without it anymore. I’m up to a cumulative ten hours sleep a day, and I tend to wake up wondering how long until I’ll get to lie down again.
Today’s bit of fun was stripping down to a white ‘now I look like my dud’ singlet and having a few wires attached to my head and chest. It took about an hour and was, if I’m honest, a lot of laughs – especially once Tracey started messaging me.
Do you think after you have been hooked up you could take your daughter to get gum boots?
Miss12 is starting a new course at school tomorrow which apparently involves mud.
Sure can, I messaged my wife, and attached a photo of my progress to date – it’s the photo at the bottom of this post. Don’t go there yet, though, or you might not feel up to reading the rest of this.
Please come straight home, Tracey’s next message read.
Sounds like I was on a promise, but nothing could be further from the truth, it seems. This is me potentially not getting sex ever again if it turns out I have sleep apnea.
Don’t take my word for it. I showed Tracey the photos I took of the potential masks (above) and she said, “Are they shelved next to the condoms? They’re very contraceptive.”
I actually mentioned to the lovely lady turning me into a Borg wannabe that they could at least make the masks fun. I suggested Boba Fett, but I reckon a Top Gun and a Bane would be just as cool. Not sexy cool, obviously, but someone in bed might as well be excited about a bloody mask.
But we’re a way off that yet. First they have to diagnose if I’ve even got this sleep apnea thing. Tonight it’s just me and a fist full of wires and a box of tech on my chest.
Naturally, I saw an opportunity to be cute and bring up the topic of sex.
“Since I look like a Borg, how about we assimilate later?”
I know, right!? Smoooooth.
But not smooth enough, because apparently the no sex thing is starting straight away.
Maybe if I brought home that sign from the chemist and put it up on our bedroom door it might give her ideas…? What do you reckon?
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs.”