Drink yer juice, Shelby

I just fainted at Bunnings.

We had taken a leisurely stroll there to buy some shelving for the inside of the nursery wardrobe and I suddenly came over all hot and violently ill. Made it to a seat and thought sitting would be ok while Steve paid, but I had to call him back over to help me... trying not to panic as I started to black out, everything got quiet and sounded far away and everything went dark. I did what my Obstetrician had said (just last week when I saw him and mentioned some dizzy spells I've started having, he told me to lie down when that happened or I'd faint). It's feels like the exact opposite of what you instinctively want to do - I didn't feel at that point that lying flat would help at all. But it did. Must be why he gets paid to suggest things like that to prego chicks for a living.

Picture trying to lie stretched out on a courtesy public park bench at the registers at Bunnings on a Sunday morning..... unless you're a three foot midget, that ain't happening comfortably unless your legs are detachable.

They even wheeled me out in a friggen wheelchair. I felt a right pill.

And then we get home and Steve has bunged me back here at my usual post, in front of the computer. I felt like the little kid who almost got away with doing something different. It must be like how a dog feels when they see the gate open: "Oh. My God. OHMYGOD! I'm free!! Don't wreck it, don't wreck it, be stealthy and run for your life. Sniff and pee on as many things as you can before you get caught. Ahhh shit, they're onto me. Back to the backyard then. Fuuuuuck."

He's just handed me some juice. He apparently thinks I am diabetic because he keeps insisting it will be good for me to drink it. Has my husband seen Steel Magnolias too many times? I don't recall ever making him watch it once. No, no, I think I've just recited it too often.

That'll teach me.