Comfort
I came home from Paul's last Friday. I didn't mean to - it was an accident. I dropped into home before a doctor's appointment and did an hour of cleaning and laundry etc etc, then The Girl got up and said, "Mum, I'm sick." She was too, poor poppet. Fever, sore throat, sinus headache. Well, that was that, wasn't it? I couldn't go home to Paul after having spent all that time in a house where someone was sick, so Paul packed up my stuff and put it on his front verandah and I drove back and fetched it and we waved fondly at each other and blew kisses, and I left him to it. Unfortunately, I have trouble leaving things alone, and my mind told me lots of stories, such as the one where I was abandoning Paul when he needed me. This was made worse because Paul stopped taking his opiate-based painkillers which were, ironically, giving him terrible gastro-intestinal pain. Without his painkillers he slowed down considerably and was shuffling round like an old ma
