The camel's back

I’m lying on the floor and typing this. Andromeda says I must have superhuman powers because she does not understand how I can possible spend as long as I do on my laptop in the position that I currently am.
I simply smile at her and get back to work. This after all is my life for the next week.
I have been ordered to lie down for the rest of the week.
It happened on Sunday.

The anniversary weekend was coming on great. Saturday had been a blast. We spent the entire day watching romantic movies whilst nibbling out of a bag filled with all sorts of junk. When I got tired of nibbling on those I would nibble on her. It was fun. Simple. The world’s truest definition of a balanced diet.
Much later on in the evening I took her to some restaurant which a friend of hers had assured me was her favourite. We had a lovely time—even when she pointed out to me that I was using my salad fork the wrong way and that I was holding it in the wrong hand. I pointed out to her that because I was seating opposite her, my left hand was located on her right side. She gasped at her mistake and looked really mortified.
I suspect she realizes how cute she is when she does that.
Saturday was fun. Saturday night was even more so. The trouble all began on Sunday morning.

We were getting ready for church. Andromeda was adamant about it. We might be having an anniversary weekend but no way were we going to miss out on stopping by to say hi to Jesus. I wisely did not complain and went about getting ready. I checked the mirror to make sure my hair was brushed and there were no visible smears of lipstick or love bites on my face. Everything looked okay.

I was just bending down to tie my shoe lace when it happened. I sneezed. It was a pretty serious sneeze as sneezes go. The kind you would expect to have if you were tied down and had pepper sprinkled into your nose with a pinch of thyme. My back certainly agreed because immediately after the sneeze I felt a sharp tear in my lower back. Two seconds later I was sprawled on the floor groaning in pain.
For those of you who are curious—No! There is nothing amusing about rolling about the hotel room floor with only one shoe on.

After Andromeda was convinced that I was really in pain and not trying to escape going to church she called a doctor friend of mine to quickly solicit his medical advice. My friend went through the discussion of how I felt and where the pain was located. After a pause he finally offered his medical opinion.
“I think you’ve slipped a disk Carlang.” He waited for another half a second before asking me the question “So how did it happen again?”
I took time to go through the whole motion of events. Me. My shoe lace. I bend. A sneeze. Roaring pain. I could feel him nod on the other end of the phone.
“A sneeze you say.” He sighed. “Nice try.”
His voice grew even lower as he asked me “Now tell me seriously. What did Andromeda do to you?”

Everyone has been asking me the same question all week.

Day One

Andromeda is in the bathroom taking a shower.
She has just returned from 5 hours in the market—a mission that ended with only a lone pair of shoes. Women and their weird meter of accomplishment. I have ceased to try and understand them. Whenever I get confused I simply kiss them.
Thus far it has worked.

We are in a hotel for the next three days.
It has been 370 days since she said a firm “yes” to my stammered request that she be my girlfriend.
We are celebrating our anniversary this weekend. Or rather I am.
When I asked Andromeda what she would like to do for our anniversary she looked at me like I had asked her if Jesus might possibly have been a blinded 78 year old hunched back Asian, whose deformities were mistaken as Messianic in proportions.
According to her—women never plan anniversaries, they merely experience it. The job she says is completely mine.
“Surprise me” she announced.
The message has been received.
I am doing my best.

Thus far, everything seems to be going okay. She seemed delighted with the hotel that I picked. She walked out to the balcony which gave a nice overview to the city of Abuja and smiled. In her world that is a “Well done Carl. You’re doing great.”
Indeed.

There are two more days ahead of me.
Plenty of time for me to let her down. But at least for now, I have survived the first day.
She likes the room. She likes the view and she still likes the boyfriend. Friday is done.
We’ll just take one day at at a time.
And if things get really bad....well...there’s always kissing.

That always seems to work.

The curious case of blogging

If I had stayed and persisted in whipping out of my complaining hands a few more months of writing, I would have, by now, been celebrating my second year of blogging. But I didn’t stay and the rules of blogging took over. For every month that I have been away, I have aged backwards. And so today I find myself not at the 2 year mark, but somewhere worryingly around the 11th month.
It is enough to make you weep.

There is some advantage to being 11 months again. For one, I get to look forward to another one year old birthday celebration. For another I am better equipped to handle the time because of my experience. Much has changed since I was 11months and yet again very little has. The company is different. I do not expect this blog to be read because most of my dear friends have all gone. Swallowed by that ever ravenous shark that is life.
For example Naapali is gone. There are rumours that he is has been stolen by a loving wife and delightfully troublesome children. I have never been one to pay attention to proffered truth. Naapali is exactly where I left him. The only problem is I cannot remember where.

Atutu is also gone from the world of blogging. Fortunately I get to chat with him every now and then. But even in our conversations I sense the absence of what was. The magical lure of blogging is gone, replaced by the harsh realities of life. “LOL” in the world of cyber space calls to the mind the happy chatter of bloggers. In the real world they are just alphabets with very little significance.

Nigerian drama queen is supposed to be around. But even I am half convinced that this is untrue. The other half of me knows for certain that it most certainly is not. True there still are some of my old friends hanging around the woods. It appears Bumight is yet to perform her first medical murder and Fantasy queen is still very much in her Eldorado. Shubby doo still posts the occasional post and Afrobabe is still in search for the 6 hour orgasm experience. But even though many of these familiar names are still present, most of them have evolved without me. They are who they are before I left, but now even so much more that they aren’t.
The world of blogging has changed. The people. The colours and even the language.

Sometimes I feel like I am getting old.
Other times I wake up and realize that indeed I am.
But every now and then I get to experience the thrill of being young again. In another five minutes, I will return to the real world filled with work, deadline, coke and the never ending pursuit of physical fulfilment.
But until that happens I will remain here.
And for a little while, I will be 11 months again.