January 7th 2016

On the morning of the seventh I was determined to wake up early. And by early, I meant before 9am. And the reason for this is that Perth has just the right amount of time difference to lull you into a false sense of security (Oh it's still in the same country! There's no such thing as domestic jetlag! It's a momentary blip in the sleeping schedule!") whilst simultaneously rocking your world for six ("Huh? How can it be 10pm and we're all still up together mucking around and playing games? Should I be the adult here and put these wide-awake children to bed?").

So I see it's 8.15am, roll over to get out of bed and...*boom*. Intense vertigo. Nausea, rolling room, nystagmus - the works. I blundered my way into the children's bedroom where I was able to wake them up before falling into a deep slumber (almost as a preventative to realising how ill I was). When I consulted Dr Facebook it turns out that every single person I have ever known in my entire life has had this before and I was told all about the Epley Manouevre and given all sorts of tips on how to combat this sudden oceanic style land I was sailing across.

So essentially I laid in bed all day and listened to Radio National. Serendiptiously, Kate Atkinson was on and I was halfway through reading her book A God in Ruins, so I lay there listening to her talk about the book whose type floated and waved about my eyes. I lay still and hoped for the best.

The best came. After a scheduling issue with my doctor saw the appointment fall through, I was ok enough to sit up and then by the evening I was able to eat and even watch a movie (screens had been making me feel decidedly less than great). We watched The Gift. Just the adults watched this, let me hasten to add. Definitely not for the young. Oh, Jason Bateman.

I was, as was James, desperate to leave the house by this stage. Operation January the 8th - Leaving House.