Since I’m switching frantically between chirpy optimism and Hulk-like pissed-offness on this holiday, I’ll leave it to you to choose which of these two postcards you prefer...
First, the ferfuckssake-I-must’ve-been-a-dictator-in-a-former life postcard:
Well. So much for my getting-over-cancer super-holiday. I’m over cancer all right. Lying in a hospital bed in Mexico with a broken back. All thanks to slipping on condensation on the beautiful marble floor of our hotel room. A proper cartoon fall, too, launching into the air and landing thwack on my spine. I s’pose that’ll teach me for telling everyone I’d be having one hell of a summer... just this wasn’t exactly the kind of hell I had in mind. (So long Glasto...) So I’m not writing this postcard from beside a pool, but instead from beside a bedpan. Less ‘wish you were here’; more ‘wish I was there’. I’d finish this postcard by asking when I’m going to catch a break... but it seems I’ve got that covered already.
See you as soon as I’m declared fit to fly,
And now, the seeing-the-world-through-rose-tinted-morphine postcard:
Just a quick hello from sunny May-hee-co to tell you what it’s like out here. Hotel is amazing. In fact, I’m head-over-heels about it. As planned, I’ve been spending a lot of time on my back and my wishes to stay here a little longer have, surprisingly, been granted – we won’t be home as early as Thursday after all. It’s been more eventful than we’d expected, but P and I came out here to move beyond The Bullshit – and we’ve sure as hell managed it. That said, it wasn’t quite the break we expected. Will tell you more when we get home but one thing’s for sure: this was nacho average vacation...
Love and kisses (no hugs though),
Lucky Lisa x
I know, I know. I can't believe it either. Anything for a second book, eh? But meh; it's like I said once before: them's the breaks.