“Put your hands up!” It is early in the morning and I am sound asleep in Lala land yet my mind seems to understand what is happening around me. The male voice yells louder “PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!! I leap out of bed going direct from sleep to instant alive and registering within these 2 states that there is a full on armed defenders raid going on right outside my house. I stumble and fall on the floor, tangled in my light green sheet that has cacooned me all night. My mind is soo not awake. Where the heck am I? I struggle to de-tangle myself. Wait, this is not even my bed. What the heck is happening? “PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM.” Yes we are DEFINITELY under attack. My mind is now in full on receiving mode with thoughts tumbling in, in no particular order, waiting to be organised. Camera, Dressing gown, Facebook post, shoes, undies. What do I look like? Can I get this live? Why is this sheet still attacking me? Hurry, they might be dangerous, phone, phone, where’s my phone, quick press record. Who the heck puts a lock on their phone? Hurry, this could be good coverage and where the heck am I? Is this my bed ahhhhh wake up wake up. I finally detach myself from the green monster and rush around like a snail on hot concrete. Hmmm bad vision. He would be instant Escargot wouldn’t he? Not much squirming on that slime but a severe crunch I reckon. I stop for a split second to allow my mind to catch up and look around at my surroundings only to comprehend that I am not in my bedroom but I am on the recliner in the lounge. That’s right. I have had my neck out for nearly 2 months. Absolutely a pain in the neck. Excuse the pun but seriously not cool on any level and as far as pain goes.. way up there on the end scale. I can tolerate a fair amount of pain but this pain has seen me reduced to a blubbering mess outside a chemist whilst poor hubby waited in the car trying not to look at his snotty wife, because I’m too twisted to be allowed to drive and the chemist has refused me any pain medication because I am on warfarin. A blood thinning prescription for and up and coming heart op I am required to undergo. So tears a plenty, weird posture movements and constant pinching that no physio seems to be able to relieve has seen me sleeping upright in my recliner for quite a few nights. This particular night I do recall pushing my luck and reclining back a good amount that allowed the sleep dribble to run down my mouth instead of dripping on my lap. I classed it as good progress from 90 degrees to not quite coffin position. PUT YOUR HANDS UP!!! the officer screams again, snapping me out of my short gap of standing still. I am rushing to find my phone that I have accidentally thrown in the hatching of my caccoon and also adjust the sparse nighty I have on. No fame on any level will allow anyone seeing me in this attire. What can I say it was a hot night and the hot flushes still pop in every other week to remind me of how old I am getting. I gap it to my room, wrap my gown over my personalised aged bits and grab the phone in the same stride to head out to the front door. I can hear sirens and lots of yelling. Fear grips me at the same time my hand grips my gown belt and I stand at the door ready to swing it open when I remember the golden rule I tell the Grandys. Don’t open a door if you don’t know who is on the other side. You have got to look through the window first. This could be dangerous. Police are still yelling, I’m still dressing and I’m still trying to get the camera up on my phone, so I quietly go to the spare room and look out the window. Nothing. Hmmm must be the other end of the house then. Again the Armed defender squad yells PUT YOUR HANDS UP WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!” I race down to the other end of the house now being fully dressed and fully prepared. Suddenly a ghastly smell knocks me clean into fully awake and I stop dead in my tracks feeling like I have hit a brick wall. The smell is vile and not nice. My nose is sniffing trying to figure how it died, what had died and how did it happen in the middle of an armed defenders call out? The yelling stops. The smells continues. The sirens fade. I hear a rustling of paper. Oh my GOOSH I am soooo furiously wide awake now.
“ARE YOU IN THE TOILET ON YOUR CELL PHONE !” I yell to my mere male husband who has finally discovered You Tube 15 years behind everyone else thanks to his sons teaching him how to use the internet on his new mobile.
A small silence is followed by a sheepish “yes”