Yep, you read that right. Allow me to shed some light on what happened.
Yesterday, The Husband and I had to walk from Point A to Point B within a given amount of time. What do normal people do under these circumstances? They walk from Point A to Point B. But not The Husband. Oh, The Husband sees situations like these as a chance to prove to himself and the UNIVERSE that he can do one better than the rest of us. The Husband tries to find a SHORT CUT so that we can get there a MINUTE early because every minute counts. Who cares about the tried and tested route which will guarantee us getting to Point B in time? We're better than that, apparently. So instead of travelling in a straight line from Point A to Point B, we travelled in a crooked line which landed us back on the original line, somewhere to close to Point A. But that was okay. I was wearing my running shoes and could probably run for it in the worst-case scenario. But could I?
Somewhere along the crooked line, something horrible happened to the lower left part of my body. Something that felt like a giant hand inside my stomach was reaching out for my left kidney and crushing it at the same time. Something that forced me to bend down and clutch my knees for support. Something that made me twist and squirm in pain with every step forward. This has happened before and I knew that it would pass soon as long as I slowed my pace and limped forward. That's when we had to cross a small intersection.
Now I should tell you something slap-worthy The Husband does almost every time we have to cross the road, especially when we're in a hurry and he's forgets that I'm his wife and all the adrenalin in his system confuses his brain so he sees me as his opponent in a race. A race that his LIFE depends on. He could be holding my hand till the point where we have to cross the road. But the minute we have to make the decision to cross, he gets into The Meh Mode which is also his Not-My-Concern-Don't-Give-A-Shit-Number-Of-Fucks-Given-Is-Equal-To-Zero Mode. Let's stick with 'Meh Mode' for convenience. He just abandons me and crosses the road and doesn't even look back to see if I followed for at least 15 whole seconds post crossing. I could have been hit by a truck in those 15 seconds but the effects of the Meh Mode don't wear off that easily.
So yesterday as usual, The Husband got into the Meh Mode, storming through the crowds like he was in control and I limped after him, hands extended, coarsely screaming "my precious". During the 15 second Meh Period, I saw him cross a bunch of tourists. I saw the guide of the tourist group who was excitedly talking about something on the opposite side of the road. I saw that he was about to raise his hand to point at that something. But I, being my husband's wife, JUST HAD TO LIMP PAST THAT MAN EXACTLY WHEN HE RAISED HIS HAND TO POINT because life is a race and I had to win. The man's hand was as large as my entire face. I got slap-punched on my right cheek. It was great. Everything was just great. Awesome. Fabulous. Dope. Sick. Rad. Retro. Chill. Because while the man was holding my hand and saying, "I'm so sorry dear, so SO sorry!", and while the tourists were half-giggling-half-laughing at the silly limping female Gollum, all I was trying to do was catch a glimpse of The Husband who was still storming away because those 15 seconds weren't over yet. He missed the whole thing. He never stopped. He couldn't care less. And I have been rolling my eyes so much since yesterday that you can only see the whites of my eyes now. That's how I'm going to walk around from now on. Just the whites of my eyes that you can all stare at till you start imagining blue irises with deep dark pupils and I turn into a White Walker. I'm pretty sure even The Twitch has disappeared. Oh no, there it is. Now let me slap my left eye.