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Okay, I didnt nearly die but I was very unwell.

It was bound to happen. Things fall apart when The Mom goes on holiday. It’s why we don’t often let her out. We really don’t function well in her absence.

She left on the Friday. I managed to keep it together until Monday night when I woke up sometime in the early hours of Tuesday morning with vertigo. And that, I knew from past experience, meant a hideous viral inner ear infection.

If you’ve never had one of these little gems, count yourself lucky. They’re miserable in the extreme. Remember that one time you drank WAY too much and had the bed spins? When even putting your foot on the floor while you tried to sleep or prayed to pass out didn’t help? It’s like that except with no drinking and it lasts for a lot longer than one night. It’s not unlike – I think – being on a ship in stormy seas.

The next morning as I stumbled drunkenly to the nearest doctor’s surgery, I heard The Mom’s voice in the back of my head.

“Once you’ve unpacked in Bristol, go and register with a doctor.”

I imagine I said something like, “Right, sure, of course. That is the sensible way to proceed.”

Did I follow her instructions?

What do you think?

Thankfully, the surgery took pity on me and gave me an appointment on the same day I registered.

And of course, I also didn’t have any sort of emergency food on hand that would help in this case – did I mention the nausea that comes with the vertigo? It’s not too bad – not as bad as it would be if I had actually been totally wasted, but it wasn’t a good look first thing on a Tuesday morning.

I staggered to my nearest Sainsbury’s and bought some ginger ale, dry crackers, and chicken broth. Because also I didn’t have any chicken soup to hand. Even though The Mom tells me all the time I should keep some in my freezer. Now, in my defence, I don’t actually have a freezer – it’s called an icebox and it’s big enough to hold vodka, ice cubes and not much else. Though, mine doesn’t have vodka or ice cubes, instead it’s got two bags of cranberries, just like The Mom would have advised me if cranberries were good for any of the things that normally plague me.

Once I got back to my flat, I wanted to immediately Skype The Mom and feel sorry for myself and hear her tell me about the cardinal and the blue jays and whatever silly things The Pig had been up to in the week since I’d returned to the UK from the holidays. But she wasn’t home. Because she was on freaking holiday.

I emailed L’il Sis instead and waited with baited breath for her to reply. By mid-afternoon my time she hadn’t and I emailed her again. There was no reply before I went to bed feeling particularly sorry for myself.

In the morning there was a message waiting for me wherein L’il Sis alluded briefly to a crappy day and then signed off. She was worried about The Pig not getting adequate attention in The Mom’s absence. Crazy D totally stepped up and brought The Pig out on a lunchtime adventure for kisses and cuddles to visit L’il Sis at her office, but I don’t know if that’s tenable longterm.

I’ve had time on my hands what with the ear infection and my office not wanting someone who looks drunk lurching about the place and in that time I’ve decided that all of us need (at a bare minimum) about two to three quality hours of The Mom’s attention each week . This is only in order to survive. In order to thrive we need considerably more.

She gets home tomorrow and I won’t be able to pounce on her right away due to the time difference, but I tell you, first thing Saturday there’s going to be a pitiful Skype call. It’s not that I don’t want her to go on holiday, it’s more that I want her to take an iPhone so we can FaceTime whilst she’s away. Which is totally reasonable.

What’s worrying is that she’s planning on escaping for three whole weeks shortly. I don’t know if we’re strong enough for this. I have no idea what else has happened at home in her absence but I’m not holding out much hope.