hathycol | under your skin feels like home

Was going to sit and type about my blatent inability to choose a pair of glasses that is not identical to ones I already own, or about how lovely it is now it's raining.

However.

Simon just phoned me to tell me about his exciting day in the hospital. He's okay - bad fall, possibly though probably not broken a rib, has to wait and see. Whether he can play in the concerts has a bigger question mark over it, and he's understandably gutted.

I have spent, as such, the last hour on the phone with him and trying desperately not to Flail. My flailing is a common occurance, Flailing is less so. Flailing is when I run around a lot but all towards a useful purpose; in this case, it was seeing if I could either sleep in the car when I trundled down to see him, or if I had any relatives locally. (No, and for a given value of locally, yes.) I'm not going to see him unless it gets worse, but I have a plan of action. Mostly, depressingly, for my own peace of mind. I know that's hideous and selfish of me, but today (tell me if I get silly) I had a horrible image of Something Happening While I Wasn't There and I flailed a little bit. (Note punctuation. That's just a sort of wee panic.) So now I'm worried.

So today has been mightily peculiar. I know, really, that it's all fine and tomorrow I will laugh about this and I will see him on Saturday when he plays and IT WILL ALL BE FINE, but the urge to cling (well, gently, obviously) and feed him painkillers is a little bit overwhelming right now. I actually feel quite guilty for not currently being in the car. Either way, he's phoning a bit later on to let me know what the NYO people have said.

Um, I know I owe ficathon stuff, and I had a Grand Plan for it to be over by now, but it's not because I got a little side-tracked. Um. I suck a bit.

There is new Shoebox! Huzzah!

~Hathy_Col~