Popping My Clogs!

The last few weeks I’ve had this bizarre heart thing.  I wake from a dead sleep feeling like I’ve just gone three minutes in the ring with Tyson; my heart is racing so fast.  Or even worse, virtually panting; trying to drag in air that seems so thick it’s almost like I’m breathing soup!

I figured I was surely going to have a heart attack.  Pop my clogs and go out with a bang.  If I think about it rationally, this is my choice of death.  I don’t want to be too old and it had better be damned fast; no painful lingering.  Still, I didn’t really intend to invoke my ‘retirement plan’ just yet.

So I’ve been to the doctor a few times.  I’ve been prodded and poked, tested and looked at and everything has come back ‘normal’.

Then today, I realised her questioning has taken a different turn.  Now it is centred on ‘how is work..?’  Yeah, I got a pretty good rise last week so things are fine and dandy there.  ‘What about the kids…  House…  Life….?’  Nup.  All rosy!

Stress.

Me?  Stressing..?

Then I realised that this all started around the same time that damned Moodle gives me “the kid will have to move in; or I’ll have to find a place with kid” routine.

That idiot is going to kill me.