Getting better...

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The husband seems to have turned a corner.  I left him in bed this morning complaining of the headaches which the antibiotics had given him.  I should say that this had nothing to do with the involuntary headbutting of the vacuum yesterday, and I said to him that they were probably because he'd not been drinking enough.

Naturally, this was pooh-poohed, as was my suggestion that he was detoxing after four caffeine-free days.  Now I'm no doctor, as you all know, but you ask me anything about headaches and migraines and I have a myriad of information up my sleeve.

He peaked around 10.00 with a call to Binland asking me to stop at the shop on the way home to pick up some Evian ('I can't stand the taste of the tap water anymore, and the fridge is too noisy') and he also wanted me to pick up a new prescription from the surgery after a short con-flab with the doctor.

Handing them over to him when I got home (at this point he was still looking like a crumpled bag of dirty washing propped up in the corner of the sofa - but at least he'd migrated from bed to sofa, so this was looking good), I asked him what the doctor had said about the headaches.

'I'm dehydrated apparently', he said.  Now we both knew how much it cost him to admit this, but I never said a word, preferring instead to scream, 'I bloody said you were, you obstinate old fool!' silently in my head.  

But how did I know he'd turned a corner?

Well he's currently got his laughing gear wrapped around a rather large bacon sandwich.

Life may be about to return to normal...


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