Sick in my Hands

Moving house is apparently one of the most stressful things you can do.

One night while I was shifting the wardrobe around the bedroom to try and place it somewhere where if it was going to disintegrate due to shoddy workmanship, it wouldn’t kill me in my sleep in the process, I threw up in my hands. Just threw up. In my hands. It might have been due to SmartPrice tea, or it might have been the stress: but whatever it was there it sat, all brown and lumpy and acid-smelling. In my hands. In my new house.

At first I was impressed that I had managed to catch it all and not get it on the carpet, but then I realised that I was holding sick in my hands. I ran to the bathroom but failing to open the door with my chin, ran into the kitchen instead. The sink was full of pots, but my hands were full of sick and as I wasn’t going to be able to open any windows with my feet to throw it onto the general public, into the sink it all went.

I then spent two hours cleaning sick off my new pots, before realising that I still needed to move the wardrobe. The 6ft beanbag tripped me up on the way to the wardrobe and I spent the rest of the night blacked out on the bedroom floor, hands vaguely still smelling of sick.

Moving house is apparently one of the most stressful things you can do. I concur.

It’s a pity the wardrobe didn’t kill me.


19 thoughts on “Sick in my Hands

  1. You are so right, Anna. Moving is sooooo stressful. I went ahead to the new town to live on my mum’s couch for four months, and the missus did all the packing. Then I worked two jobs for the first year, so she did all the unpacking as well. I wondered why her hands smelled funny when we reunited…


    1. That sounds like a wonderful plan! Although I have a kind of love/hate relationship with packing. I’m just glad it’s all done and I can spend my evenings in a drunken state on the beanbag.


  2. Ok now, did this really happen? lol

    And yes, Moving is Stressful

    Puking in your hand, rather than the Floor? Makes sense to me

    Puking sucks… I don’t miss it… From, whenever it was I last Puked, lol

    Nicely Written Anna



    1. I wouldn’t like to say what did happen, and what didn’t… though most of it did. Let’s just say I’m never buying SmartPrice tea again.


  3. Haha, I misread “threw up in my my hands” as “threw up my hands” and I couldn’t understand why they didn’t end up stuck behind the wardrobe in the next sentence.

    I commented on Mouse Tower that moving is full of surprises. I suppose sometimes your hands are too. It’s probably quite a good thing that you weren’t facing one of those sandwiches from the newsagents a second time.


    1. This is all very true! The hands I have now however are prosthetic ones, since I ate all my fingers when the armageddon happened, and I had that toastie machine. Eating prosthetic hands, Annie? COME ON. I have SOME morals. Probably.


    2. I’ve also tried to put my finger on what it is that you do when you write. You sift through the little things life throws at you and sort them all differently and then magically see a story where my mind would see only a mess. I’ve actually tried doing this a couple of times. Here’s an example of me flattering you by imitation. :) The content is strangely coincidental!

      My roommate and I take turns reading your story aloud each week. ♥


    3. Your kind words never fail to make me smile. And just thinking that someone in the whole wide world is taking the time to read out my stories has made me feel all fuzzy. Thank you :)


    4. … and that Big Mac story made me gurgle the lemonade I was just drinking and a bit came out my nose. Just a bit.

      I’d like to have engraved on my tombstone, ‘You’re standing on my face’, but Big-Mac murder is just as legitimate!


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