Inchcock – Wed 21 Nov 2018: A truly frustrating, furious-making, Whoopsiedangleplop, Accifauxpa and depression fermenting horrible day! Oy-Yoy-Yoy!

1Mon06

My passata jar lies amongst the alcoholics bottles. Jealous? Me? Yes!

3Wed01

Wednesday 21st November 2018

Croatian: Srijeda, 21. Studenog 2018

00:00hrs, I’d been awake and active since 21:25hrs, when I woke up thinking it was about 03:00hrs. When I say active, that may be overstating things a tad. Fair enough, the over grab-handle ridden, obese, pudgy torso with the dangling legs was operating, slowly, but working. The brain was another thing altogether. This morning, it was teasing me something awful; Verisimilitude was needed to sort out the facts from fiction coming out of m brain box. It seemed to refuse me access to the memory for a short time too and was seemingly having power cuts when I started, later on, to update the Tuesday Diary.

WD0.60.0 By the time I had risen to my feet, Duodenal Donald and Reflux Roger both kicked-off at the same time. I made for the medicine drawer in the kitchen, to take the morning doses with an extra Omeprazole, codeine phosphate and a great-guzzle of the weak, insipid antacid medicine. Got the Health Checks done.

3Wed001a

3Wed001At least the results for this session had gone way done. And the sphygmomanometer worked first time as well!

I made a brew taking care not to make it as tasty as I usually like it and added more milk than usual. So as not to make the pains from Reflux Roger and notably Duodenal Donald any worse than they are.

I didn’t enjoy it much.

I got on with updating and finishing off the Tuesday post. Sent it off.

The tea had gone cold of course, so I made another mug. Started on creating this post, and the call to the Porcelain Throne arrived. Off to the wet room.

WD0.60.0 A somewhat lengthy session this time. I read a few pages of the Clarkson Biography and counted just three dead and one live Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil black biting beetles on the floor. After cleaning myself up, I was gobsmacked to see another two Weevils, both live running near the shower drain? Tsk!

Duodenal Donald was giving me more grief than ever now. I dunked some Scottish Shorties in the tea, hoping to line the stomach a bit. It got a little easier an hour or so later.

I went on WordPress reader. Then the Facebooking updating photo albums.

I decided that I must sort out the spare room, or at least make a start on it. After a couple of hours, I’d got different area boxes and bags sorted and stacked up, ready for more in-depth arranging. I even made a bit of space where I could actually see the carpeting!

Off to the Porcelain Throne, washed, made a brew, and back into the spare room – despite Back-Pain-Branda, Arthur Itis, Duodenal Donald, and Anne Gyna collectively complaining and giving me grief!

WD0.60.0 Oy-Yoy-Yoy! A stack of stuff had fallen, knocking down the other stack of things and landing on the pile of bags, splitting open both the boxes and the black-bags! How frustrating, furious-making and depression fermenting! The damned place looks worse than before I started! I was in no mood to do anymore, morose in the extreme!

WD0.60.0 Down to do the laundry – but, both dryers were in use, Humph! Returned to the flat feeling somewhat wee’d-off, doomed, jinxed, damned, cursed, ill-fated, ill-omened and the most luckless pensioner in the world. Which is silly of course, but at that time… So sorry for myself, and in pain, mentally and physically! I engaged downheartedness, despondency and dispiritedness Modes synchronously!

I took some pictures from the kitchen window while I was doing the Health Checks. Usually, something as simple as taking a good photograph can cheer me up, but not this time, my dolorous mood remained!

3Wed03

3Wed04aI lost all interest in anything. (Found out later I’d missed the medication doses as well. Humph!

I pondered on what to have for my nosh. The way I was feeling and mood I was in, there was not much interest in cooking or eating, but I thought I better had.

A simple to make meal; a tin of tomatoes with some ready cooked smoked streaky bacon was put in a saucepan on alow light (I thought at the time) Into the main room and got the TV on. I fell asleep. Woke 20-minutes or so later… I could smell burning!

WD0.60.0 Luckily, the fire alarm did not go off. I  tipped out any moveable beans and bits of burnt bacon I could, scraped out and scrapped the burnt food, and soaked the pan in the bowl with bleach, washing up liquid and soda. My Fed-up-with-life mode moved into Defcon Two! Hehe! I got another tin of beans in the other pan, and the last bits of the bacon added, and on the hob warming up once more. Of course, I dare not leave the kitchen again. So stood stirring as the meal slowly heated up.

3Wed05a - CopyGot the continental brown bread, the lemon dessert and a bottle of lemon and lime spring water, and back to the £300 second-hand recliner with the tray, to gobble it all up.

Had things been going better, I would have perhaps given this nosh a rating of 9/10. But the Whoopsiedangleplops and Accifauxpas had lowered my spirits and interest, enthusiasm for life to its lowest level in many a month. Self-pitying old schlemiel! I ate it all, though, including all the bread!

WD0.60.0 To worsen my misery, when I put the tray and things in the washing-up bowl, I found two live Evil Ironclad Boll-Weevil Black Biting Beetles on the draining board! Fed-up or what?

3Wed05The evening sky was worth a picture taking of it, I thought.

I got down in the £300 second-hand recliner and put the TV on again.

I slipped into Sweet-Morphious in seconds. I feared the problems may keep me awake with the brain musing and feeling confused. As is the grey-cells want, and way.

WD0.60.0 I woke with a start, confused as to why? Then I spotted the light flashing on the telephone landline. I really had a struggle on to get out of the £300 second-hand recliner as quick as I could manage; dropping the TV remote, pen and pad and tablet box from my overly-sized stomach, and knocking over the bottle of spring water, then stubbing my toe… But I got there before it stopped. I hazily answered the phone; it was Brother-in-Law Pete. Half-asleep and in a bit of a mental pickle, I’m blown if I can now remember all of what was said… no, hang on, street art in Sherwood… Nottingham Post must take a look at their site… that’s it, all I can recall. In fact, the next day, I found ‘Nott’m Post, look at’ on the notepad?

I got back down in the recliner, I think I pondered on the busy Thursday calendar, then back into the land of Nod! 

A day that I’d like to forget! Humph!

2 thoughts on “Inchcock – Wed 21 Nov 2018: A truly frustrating, furious-making, Whoopsiedangleplop, Accifauxpa and depression fermenting horrible day! Oy-Yoy-Yoy!

  1. At least you had a prime number of whoopsiedangleplops today. Unlucky seven I suppose, but then maybe they are a lucky seven for a better day tomorrow. We celebrate Thanksgiving tomorrow, and since Laurie’s youngest sister and her husband are in town, we are gathering at Laurie’s parents for a traditional Thanksgiving meal with turkey, dressing, gravy, baked potatoes, bread of some type (maybe cornbread), sweet pickles, and pumpkin pie for desert. I really don’t care much for turkey and the fixings, and absolutely despise pumpkin pie — I react to pumpkin pie with an ak ak ak ak ak like a cat barfing up a hairball. Laurie’s mom has two ovens and neither one work (they haven’t worked for years — she stores cookies and chips in them) so she brings the turkey over to our house and cooks it in our oven. Ugh. I have to smell turkey cooking for hours before we take it to Laurie’s parents house so everyone can un-stuff the turkey and stuff themselves. Fortunately Thanksgiving only happens once a year. I would prefer a meal like you had today over a traditional Thanksgiving meal.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Cheers, I can do with a betterer day, Tim. (Mind you, it didn’t start too well, Tsk!)
    A convoluted Thanksgiving nosh coming up for you… and one you don’t really want! Tsk!
    I must say, I’d probably feel the same as you with that feast and hassle to tackle.
    Hope you get through it okay.
    Cheers, Sir.

    Like

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