Feng Shui for Eye Infections

September 10, 2014

 

 

Wednesday 10th Septembe

I’m slightly put out that no one has mentioned our new ironing board cover. Obviously, in the great scheme of things, it’s not terribly important, but still. You’d think somebody would have said; Oooh! Primrose yellow! How exotic! In an admiring way, not in a Frankie Howerd sort of way. (And yes, that is the right spelling. I knew that without even having to check. That’s how old I am.)

Our new cover is stay-clean cotton with dirt and stain resistant nano-technocology. Yes, that’s right – nano-technology. When I bought my last ironing board cover, electricity had only just been invented…and now I have nano-technology, literally at my fingertips. Oh, Brave New World.

NB: I do not know what nano-technology is; I did Google it but glazed over when I got to ‘molecular’ and ‘quantum’.

Saturday 13th September

I don’t know why, but Feng Shui popped into my head the other week and refused to leave, so I decided to follow this instinct because things don’t pop into heads for no reason.

So I sent off for two second-hand books from Amazon for research purposes. It’s a bloody complicated business, involving graph paper, compasses, and requires lots of post-its to bookmark different pages. You work out where all the different areas are in your house (e.g. family, health, love and marriage), and you can even work out what sort of relationship you have.

Unfortunately, Mr Young and myself are disastrously incompatible. In addition, our back door is in the wrong place, we should never have had the gas fire installed in the front room, our washing machine will have to be taken out and our staircase must be reversed.

Clearly, we need to divorce and move.

But I’m not going to do that. Not yet, anyway. There are emergency tactics I can adopt. For example, red tape at the bottom of the stairs to stop our wealth from just rushing down and out of the front door (this explains a lot). I find some red tape in Mr Young’s toolbox and carefully stick a strip on the floor against the foot of the bottom stair then wait for the postman to arrive with my premium bond cheque.
Some letters do arrive ten minutes later, but they’re junk mail –no doubt due to the fact that the red tape has mysteriously disappeared.
Mr Young is the culprit. “Well, how was I to know what it was doing there?”
We are so clearly incompatible.

I have now put lots of plants in our Wealth corner, along with some candles and a money box. I think it’s working already, because Ocado have just sent me a voucher for £2.19 off my next shop. Yess! Positive chi is flowing through the house already! Take that, non-believers!

I have also sorted out all the cupboards in our Love and Marriage section (formerly known as the Kitchen). There were quite a few jars of herbs well past their sell-by date. This might explain a lot. There was also an old packet of self-raising flour with some weevils in it which I don’t really like to think about.

Monday 15th September

10% money-off voucher for contact lenses. Ker-ching! Good old positive chi. And the red tape is still there. I tell Mr Young that this is proof that Feng Shui works, but he is still sceptical. We are so incompatible.

Friday 19th September

All the positive chi has gone unnoticed by Ruby, whose house training progress is slow. This could be because there doesn’t seem to be a Feng Shui pet corner. She is still having accidents in our Wealth and Prosperity corner, which is a bit of a blow. Fortunately, our Love and Marriage corner seems to be a no-go area for wees and poos which, obviously, I am interpreting as a positive sign.

Friday 26th September

Clearing out my desk drawers, I find an old primary school report for my sister Rachel. Apparently, she was a fluent reader and her written work was quite neat and thoughtful. All her marks are As and Bs apart from a C+ for needlework; goodness only knows what sort of mess she must have made of the red felt elephant covered in sequins and feather stitch that I remember we all had to make in Class 7. Mine was pretty good, apart from the stuffing that kept coming out of its trunk. I think I gave it to my mother as a Christmas present, although I don’t remember seeing it again after that. She probably put it in her special place, along with all my other home-made Christmas presents.

Monday 29th September

The back of our house is infuriating. All right, so it gets the sun in the afternoon, but you’d think it would be grateful for that instead of constantly needing the woodwork to be sanded down and repainted. It’s really not much to ask, is it?

So it was going to cost us £6 billion to have scaffolding and special paint and sanding machines. Just so that our window panes don’t fall out because our wooden windowsills have rotted away. At least we have managed to get the £6 billion reduced considerably (and yes, Mr Young, that’s entirely due to the extra plants in the Prosperity corner, not your negotiation skills).

Wednesday 1st October

I notice a slight swelling on my temple, under my hairline. Obviously, not being a hypochondriac, I wait a couple of hours before I start Googling ‘tumour’.

Thursday 2nd October

The swelling is still there, and getting bigger and painful.
“Can you see it?” I ask Mr Young.
“It’s just a bite,” he says, unsympathetically.

I Google ‘unsympathetic husband Feng Shui solutions’.
We may need to move our ensuite toilet.

Friday 3rd October

The swelling is now really large, really red and really painful. Even my jaw is aching.
“Seriously,” I say to Mr Young, “it really, really hurts.”
“It’s just a bite,” he says. “I’ll take you to the chemist so you can get some anti-histamine cream.”

The pharmacist tells me to go to the walk-in centre, and I try not smirk when I get back into the car and tell my insensitive chauffeur to drive me there forthwith. He is immediately much more sympathetic and offers to cook supper. And so he should.
I am now feeling dizzy and nauseous and the side of my head is throbbing. To my surprise, the reception staff at the Walk In Centre don’t seem to be aware that I am an emergency case, as I have to wait for two hours while six people are seen who are clearly much less ill than I am.

Gratifyingly, when it is finally my turn, a second and even a third opinion is sought, and I am asked if I feel sick and dizzy. I tell them that yes, actually, I do. None of the three seem to know what the problem is, but I am prescribed antibiotics and told to take pain killers and go to A&E if it isn’t better over the weekend.

By the time I get home, my jaw hurts so much that I can’t talk properly. I take my antibiotics, plus a handful of painkillers and wash them down with a big glass of red wine which feels so wrong but so right at the same time. I am nicely muzzy by the time Mr Young brings me a spaghetti bolognese. He is suitably contrite, which is probably because he’s just been slaving away in the Love and Marriage corner.

Saturday 4th October

By evening, the swelling has moved from my jaw and, mysteriously, crept up to just under my eye so that I look as if I’ve been punched in the face.
I don’t trust this infection at all. Goodness only knows where it will decide to be tomorrow.

Sunday 5th October

My eyelid. I shall be Rocky Balboa by tomorrow.
I’ve realised that it’s entirely my own fault though; I completely forgot to Feng Shui my Health corner.

 

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