Ann 1Trying to get a handle on this new domain
March 21st 2008 19:19
Angel of God, my guardian dear, to whom God's love commits me here, ever this day (and night) be at my side, to light and guard, to rule and guide. Amen.
This, having my own domain on Orble, is a bit frightening. Thank goodness I have my meds, and my doctor gives me repeat prescriptions to cover the days I swallow a whole packet of anti-depressants before even getting out of bed. To have a glass of water and wash the chalky residue down my throat. Anti-depressant tablets are like lollies if you crunch them. I pretend they're Crown Mints and I'm a child again. And I'm just frollicking in the quadrange at school during recess time. In my school uniform. Young Ann Onnamuss. Shunned by all her classmates because she's too weird.
Where was I?
Oh, that's right. Having a domain.
I think I might even know the strapping young chap who had this domain before I took it over. I think he's Henrietta's son. That's Lady Henrietta Muddling for those of you who don't read her posts. Lady H as I call her, is a lifelong friend. Some days I even call her H. And get away with it. Lower class people are not granted that privilege. I remember when she had young David. She often tells the story about how big his head was and how much it hurt her labia to give birth to him. And how it made sex seem pleasurable. Even though she didn't like sex due to being educated in a Catholic convent. And how she thought she was bleeding to death the day she got her first period.
All of my children just fell out. It was so embarrassing. Giving birth to my eldest when I was just walking along the street. Plop! Out he came. Thank goodness a postie was coming down the footpath behind me at the time, and said, "I think you just dropped something." It was my first born. Fortunately, he landed on his feet. And the postie was kind enough to lay a burnout on the umbilical cord in order to cut it, before going off to deliver the mail.
Where was I? Oh, that's right. My domain.
I'm still not sure what I'm going to write about. There's so many seasoned writers on Orble writing about all sorts of things. And they all seem so expert. So I feel quite a bit intimidated. And get nervous. Thank God for medication is all I can say.
I sure hope I don't get constipation again today. I shouldn't. I took a whole bottle of Coloxyl this morning. The ones with senna. But I'll eat half a banana just in case. And some All Bran. For roughage.
I hope I don't get the runs.
I should be all right. I've tucked a bath towel into the back of my bloomers.
God, I get sick of washing. Incontinence is an awful disease. I thought all my problems were over with my backside, the day I had the pile operation. I don't want to go to hospital again. It's an awful place.
Don't talk to me about operations. I've had more operations than Frankenstein's monster.
Now, Mary Shelley was a go getter for a woman. Fancy writing a book like Frankenstein as a young girl. I'm still panicking about writing a blog and what subject to pick, and she just goes and writes a book that influeneces the whole world. She probably had rich parents and wasn't sent to a convent.
Life in the convent was tough.
Maybe I'll write about my life. It's certainly been full of dramas. And sacrifices. I've sacrificed everything for my son. I just want to die happy knowing he's alright. That will make it all worthwhile. He's a kind boy. He just never had a father.
But I pray my Rosary every day. For him. And I'll be having a few words to God if I have to do one second in Purgatory. Unless you're a mother, dear reader? You'll never understand a mother's love. It's pure sacrifice. We'd do anything for our kids. I have a clean conscience, and have run my race. I'm going to meet my God and your God. And regardless of how much good I've done during my pilgrimage on earth, you just wait until I get to heaven. I'll be showering you all with roses. The roses of grace. A petal storm.
But deep down? I'll be praying for my son. Because there is no way on God's earth, I'm going through what I've gone through in my life for no cause. I'll kick Satan's arse all the way back to hell if he keeps tormenting him. Or obtain the graces for him through my prayers to kick his butt himself.
And when his life is over? I'll be standing there waiting for him. And we'll be together again, and have an eternal laugh. God will wipe all the tears from our eyes, and put us in mansions as a reward for living in shitholes due to considering a clean conscience above all the riches of this world.
So, my life is drawing to a close. My body clock is wirnding down. I have run my race. Fought the good fight. And won.
Father, I have lived for my family. It's a mother's job description.
All that remains now is for my body to expire. And for the holy angels to come and whisk my soul up to heaven. And you can bury my mortal remains in a cardboard box for all I care. My body was only given to me as a vehicle to carry my soul. My body may be worn out and totally buggered but my soul is vigorous. I have lived by my conscience. I've had falls. God let me fall a few times to remind me I was human. He humbled me. For my own good. He gave me hell on earth during my lifetime so I wouldn't spend my eternity in hell. I'm going to thank Him when I meet him. I'm going to say to God, I'm glad you gave me the life you gave me on earth. It saved my soul. If you'd left me to myself? I would have gone out and broken all of your commandments and been a successful achiever in the eyes of the world, and a detestable being in your sight. So thanks. And now, let the eternal party begin.
I might go now. I have to prepare for death. And I still haven't decided on what i'm going to blog about.
May God's holy angels inhabit your households and keep you safe at night, and may they follow you around during the day and keep you from evil.
Ann.
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