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Thursday, October 6, 2011

Redecorating While We Wait

Aching teeth woke me up at an unseemly hour today - 5 am. G-town bankers don't get out of bed before 7 (the smart ones).

A quick search of the net informed me it was most likely a sinus infection of my teeth roots. I say 'most likely' because the other suggestions don't bear considering: perhaps 'most acceptable' would be a more apt description.

Tracey already had an afternoon appointment to check up on her belly so she ducked into the consultation room before me and left me with the kids.

For once, all my little kids (Miss7, Master6 & Miss4) were behaving. The people sitting around us were nodding appreciatively, if imperceptibly, at such good behaviour. My kids were reading and drawing and looked just like the kiddies you see in reruns of the Eight Is Enough or The Brady Bunch.

The baby, Miss1, not so much. I assumed she was just tired, so I sat her on my knee. While I waited for my turn with the doc I began to distract her with chatter and bobbing her on my knee. But as it turned out she had a distraction for me.

By the time she'd finished throwing up on me I was covered from behind my ear to just below my right knee. My chest caught the worst of it and I'm not sure there's a Nappysan strong enough to return my shirt to white.

The nurse mustered us into an unused room. Miss1 loved the new room, although perhaps not the decor. She immediately set about redecorating the walls and floor with a fresh bout of projectile vomit.

When I sat back down in the waiting room with her, the people in the neighbouring chairs had very different looks on their faces, and their noses were screwed up. I don't blame them. The smell was awful.

"Poor little poppet," said a nice woman. "The doctor will fix her up."

"Oh, we're not here for her," I told her, while I scrapped a bit more of my daughter's lunch off my neck with my tie.

By the time I got back to work I looked worse (and smelled worse) than when I went to the doctors. But my self-net-diagnosis was confirmed - infected sinus. This doctoring stuff is easy. Getting vomit out of waiting room carpet, now that's hard.

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About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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