Comfortably Numb
The last day before the Christmas holidays approaches and the Flying Martinis are the T word.
The adult faction of the Flying Martinis is not allowed to use the T word under any circumstances. No more than Indy and Junior Misssy are allowed to use the B word.
The T word is an irrelevance. We are all T’d; we are fucking horribly T’d. But no-one is more T’d than anyone else, so being T’d is no excuse for being grumpy and no-one is allowed to out- T anyone else. You’re T’d? Yeah, yeah; get over it!
Them’s the rules.
Anyway a lighter moment of T’d ness happened this morning, as I sat on the loo (not peeing, mind, just sitting lid down. Don’t want anyone getting a picture), trying to shake myself out of the T’d ness before Thursday began. It is fair to say I was more slumped than sitting.
Meeester was in the shower. I was grumpy. I had inadvertedly slept on my right arm and it was numb from having no blood in it for what I guess was some considerable time.
I was moaning about my sore arm and then spontaneously Meeester and I sang the whole of Comfortably Numb* together.
We may be t(ire)d and grumpy, but we do know how to cheer each other up.
*Always the Floyd version: never the Scissor Sisters
