On the computer, picking at my cold sore, I drew the curtains, above is what I saw, For beauty, one couldn’t ask for more, I was gobsmacked, as I looked in awe! Life wasn’t so complicated or obscure, There was hope yet, I was sure, I forgot all about my credit score!
My zoochosis meant nothing, against this delight, Magnificent colours and bending light, Some pale, transparent, others being superbright, I took in the gorgeousness, as well I might, I forgot the hassle of Monday and yesternight. I wanted to steal this inspiration, get the copyright!
How did the phenomenon occur, I lacked the insight,
It even beats the heavenly blue moonlight,
A plane flew by, lucky devils on that flight!
Not that I don’t love the days twilight,
What an incomparable, wonderful sight,
It’s even more desirable than toasted Marmite!
Rainbow, that’s an excellent euonym,
My self-control wandered, I felt grim,
Mind facts were substituted with skrim,
Dizzy Dennis was afoot, a thought-storm brewed!
For moments the brain froze, and logic stewed,
My head cleared, after a prayer and a hymn.
I no longer drink, or use tobacco,
Don’t play any instrument, no piano,
I do overeat and love a fresh tomato,
Eventually, semi logic I did re-bestow,
Thus ended this thought-storm fiasco!
No peace, no rest, from the unbalanced mind,
Sometimes from life’s hassle, I wish I could resign,
Oh, to find an existence that is gentle and kind,
Peacefulness, tranquillity, are so hard to find,
Even around here, with its lanes, tree-lined,
Why is life, so complicatedly designed?
Have I any right, to moan and whine?
The body and brain are both on the decline,
Red Dwarf’s on the box later, so never mind!
03:25hrs: I stirred into a loose form of pretend-life, and recognised that the need for the Porcelain Throne was somewhat urgent. Without much thought or common sense, I attempted straight away, to remove my overly-stomached torso from the £300 second-hand recliner.
This was one of my more painful mistakes, but there was a more severe one to come yet! Oh, lucky me!
A hard truth to put into understandable words, but I’ll try my bestest, such a lot of calamities came within seconds of each other.
As I prised my lump of meat up, I leant against the arm with the right hand, stick in the left, the arm slipped off of the chair, and I plump back down again.
The bleeding from Little Inchies fungal lesion and Harold’s Haemorrhoids were instant! Warm, wet and painful!
A small silent curse and questioning of my parentage, and I tried again. The pain in the overgrown nails on the feet almost had me over as I tried to stand on my heels. But the four-pronged walking stick prevented another sprawling of my Hindenburg-dirigible sized, but a lot wobblier, torso.
No time to gather my senses and balance, I made my way to the wet room, fearing I might be too late, as the innards churned.
I even got a bit of a move on; and clouted my left elbow of the corner of the doorframe as I got to the WC room. It was almost like an electric shock.
Inside, I dropped the jammie-bottoms and PPs, and down on the raised disabled Grumpy-old-git’s seat. And it was for certain this time, that Trotsky Terence had left the field clear for Constipation Conrad to take over again! I think it felt more like concrete than ever before. But, to be fair, there was minimal bleeding considering the falling back down in the recliner accifauxpas. I took me a long time to force things along. Then, the worst job, cleaning and medication the fungal lesion had to be done. A delicate job indeed, one error and the flood of red stuff flows with a venom. However, uncomfortable as it was, I resisted rushing things, and they all came out okay. Phew!
Off to take the medications and make a brew, and the letter that arrived last night was perused.
A good idea that is, a picnic on the flat balcony, and a chance to wave from a safe distance to other tenants, that I haven’t seen for weeks, with another new sentence from the Doctors for 3-further months imprisonment and isolation, will be okay.
As I got back to the junk room to turn on the computer, the lousy, annoying, never-ending noise from ‘The Hum’ was as loud as it’s ever been. Drives you potty! The Governments best scientists can’t find out what it is caused by. Mind you, they are struggling with Coronavirus pandemic at the moment, so. With all the millions of people staying at home, I would have expected more of them to go mad with having the excruciatingly disturbing ‘Hum’, for 24/7. Hehehe!
I pressed on with making the Template for this blog first. Then went on to updating the Wednesday blog. Got it finalised and sent off. Then Emailed the links. Then on WP Reader. Pinterested some snaps.
Then, got on with the ablutions. All going very well indeed. Up to taking the shower, only three dropsies! Razor, shaving foam, and soap. A sensational start to the session.
I got under the shower and saw some new mould marks near the floor. Bear in mind, I did not have the glasses on, of course. So, I grabbed a can of Cif 100% Mould Remover (I thought at the time, anyway) and sprayed it on the wall and floor. Started showering, and stopped to rinse away the soaking spray.
Oh, dear, stinging pains from the stomach? I investigated the problem, and saw some odd coloured stuff running down the overweight tummy? I soon realised when I put my glasses on what it was. (Impetigo Imogen rampant this morning?)
The colour was the same as the mould remover I’d just used!
Then, I realised I had not used the Cif 100% mould remover, I’d used Cif 100% Oven & Grill Remover! It did sting a bit! It might claim to be a Perfect Finish, but I saw nothing on it about warning of the bottle having a tendency to leak! Cholericalisations, What a plonka!Hahaha! I had a good long spray around from the showerhead of me and the wet room. The pain dissipated, but it left me with an infuriatingly annoying itch!
Still, it could have been worse.
I got the medicating of all things in need done, olive-oiled the earholes, Phorpain gelled the knees and toes. Yes, toes! Not easy using the picker-up so I can reach the toes, I can tell yer! Hehe! Aftershave applied, body spray and even a slash of Au de Caloone… no, that’s not right. I’ll nip and have a look at the bottle, hang on a second or two… Got it, it was eau de toilette spray.
Got dressed, shame really, that means more handwashing to do. Har-har!
Made up and took some black bags to the chute. The flaming toes are hurting more and more. Humph!
Hoping to get the electric can-opener and some more black bags delivered today from Amazon. Even more important, I pray that I will be able to operate the machine. Cramps and RAI (rheumatoid Arthur Itis), can cause problems enough, but when Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters nerve end die, it can be dangerous with the usual hand-operated can openers. The Warfarin levels are high too, which means bleeding can be a bugger to stop.
I made a brew and had a look outside. Some dogs walking their owners were about, so I got the camera to try and take a few shots. The dogs were a bit too lively for me to catch a photo of them with their owners.
Until a couple with some older woof-woofs came along. I see these dogs regularly, it looks like the larger, older one has arthritis or something like that. But he still does his best to keep up, bless him.
Then, as I was giving up, I spotted a lone crow on the bottom field near the tree copse and set about trying to get a decent shot of him for Lona, a gal on the Troll Free Site, who loves crows. As you can see, with him (the crow) being lively, and Nicodemus’s nerve ends letting me down, it was a struggle to get any shot of the bird at all. My best three efforts are below, I got a few shots with no bird many, one with part of him, and finally managed one of the carrion-crow. Then he flew off.
I checked on the tracker about the Amazon things, it indicated today twixt 16:00 > 20:00hrs. Then I updated this blog.
Then got a template for the morning made up. Then I set about getting some graphics made up. Things went okay with the nerve-ends. (Smugness Mode Assimilated!)
As I checked on the potatoes in the slow-cooker, the intercom burst into life. It was the Amazon delivery of black bags and the electric tin (can) opener. I pointed rolled a can of G&T to the chap, and he was very pleased with it, and the genuine thanks I gave him.
The first thing needed, was my learning how to use the machine. The guide book was in too small and feint a print to grasp all of it. But I gave it a go on the large (400g whatever that is) can of garden peas without a ring pull on it. I observed the bit of plastic tubing on the blade in time and removed it. I wasn’t too confident I’d set it up properly, but it worked well. The tips that Sister Jane gave me earlier on the phone, were used and all went okay. Thanks, Jane.
Having got the peas in the saucepan, I set about making up some black bags. The roll of sacks in my hand in this picture contained 200!
So you can tell they were a little smaller than I had hoped. Humph! On the other hand, they were stronger than the ones I had in stock Swings and roundabouts? I made up two of the old bags and one of the new, this confirmed the new bags being stronger but no thicker. So, maybe they were worth the extra cost? Hobbling was so painful, with my trying to walk on the heels to relieve the pain from the long toes, this caused balance difficulties, IU must have looked a sad sight.
I took the bags to the waste chute and returned to collect the recycling box and bag to take down to caretakers room.
As I was getting out of the lift on the ground floor, I met Angela’s Roy (15th floor). The man kindly offered to take the bag and box to the caretaker for me. Which was such a kind gesture, as he saw how I was struggling to walk. I thanked him and explained that I needed to walk, or try to, or else things would freeze-up. He laughed, which cheered me a little.
I got to the caretaker’s room, but Robert was out and about, so I left the big box near his door. Hope he doesn’t mind.
Back up to get the nosh sorted. Very tasty. Flavour rating of 8.8/10, the potatoes that the Government had kindly given me in the food parcel, were excellent, slow-cooked with a drop of balsamic and malt vinegar added. The flavour soaked in well with using the crock-pot to sort of marinating.
As I washed the pots, and then me, thoughts turned to will I be able to sleep, the mind was a little active, churning over.
I rang Deana again, to ask her to cancel the Nottingham City Council food parcels, but the phone died on me after telling me ‘Not available’. I bet the ILCs are getting more stressed than I am. All of us to bother about, and their own clan too!
Got settled down, and watched To the Future 2 on TV. I’d seen it before, just as well, cause I kept nodding off every time the adverts came on.
When it was finished, I recall thinking, ‘Hello, Toothache Tim seems to be starting again’, and then a beautiful blankness for five hours of uninterrupted sleep! Yeehaa!