Saturday 16th May 2020

German: Samstag, 16 Mai 2020

01:10hrs: Worryingly, I woke with the urgent requirement for a wee-wee, again. I hastened to painfully remove my ponderosity of an over-stomached body from the £300, second-hand, c1968, rickety, rusty, filthy, not-operational recliner. Grabbed the four-pronged walking stick, and limped over to the well-used EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket). The wee-wee was back to the FFFONEE (Forceful-Furious-Fast-Orange-Never-Ending) style, again.

Off to the wet room, to empty, clean and sanitise the bucket. And, just like yesterday morning, the Porcelain Throne had to be utilised. The evacuation was identical as well, Constipation Konrad in full charge of the flow, stop stuck, paining, and started again. Silver-Lining-Found: No bleeding.

The legs seem to be getting a little fat (or water retention) back on them. They looked very cadaverous, exsanguinated. The odd red patch on top of the right foot is still there, and now it is itching a bit and hurts when I catch it against the slippers or scratch it with my left foot. Hmm?

Washed and off to the kitchen. I was feeling a little vague this morning, don’t know why. But I did remember the Iceland order is coming today. This gave me some impetus to get the updating done, and any graphic work I can, before 07:00hrs. Giving me time to get the ablutions done before the start time for the ETA of the food order, 08:00 > 10:00hrs.

Having made my mind up to put in the maximum effort, I turned to get the stick, and I stubbed my toe against the waste box corner. I just don’t how I resisted yelling out. But a lot of wincing and grimacing, accompanied with a few silent curses, sufficed, this time.

The hobble to the computer, it probably took a record time to get there. Crickey, the feet and toes are wickedly painful now!

Made a search for the latest Nottingham and Country Coronavirus figures. Oh, dear! A discrepancy, I think that the blue-writing is for a later date or time?

I pressed on with the updating of the Friday blog, which didn’t need a lot of work on it, and Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters were being kind to me. I got it completed and put some photos on Pinterest. Then, I emailed the link. Onto the WordPress reader. A short go on TFZer Facebooking. Then onto the WordPress comments.

I got a couple of graphics done. Then it was time for my ablutionalisationing duties. Off to the wet room… the mobile phone rang, so I returned to investigate. It was a message, from Iceland, telling me of the delivery being on time twixt 08:00 > 10:00hrs, and to look at their email they’d sent, for details of the changes to the order. So, I took the computer out of sleep mode and a look!

Not bad at all, just two unavailables, Pork & Pickle Pork Pies (which ill do me nop harm to miss, weight-wise, anyway. And some cans of pop, no problem either). Put the computer back in sleep mode, and began to hobble to the wet room.

The mobile rang again? Back into the junk room mark-2, to answer it. Iceland again, informing me that the order was ahead of schedule and should arrive twixt 8:00 and 08:30hrs. This meant I needed to get a move on with the abluting. I decided to have a stand-up wash instead of a shower, to save some time.

But, and however, the hurrying of the shave, teggies, wash, and brush-up proved to be injurious to one’s body and frame-of-mind! Cragknackles!

There were a few things, there must have been, that I didn’t drop or knock over. I amassed several shaving cuts, three in the neck shaving. The teeth and gums were bleeding. The second time I dropped the toothbrush, I gave the right knee a crude, clunking thud on the toilet bowl as I bent to retrieve it. Double Cragknackles!

Silver-Ling Search Results: At least there were no toe-stubbings, and the floor cabinet top avoided my Dizzy Dennis enforced swaying and grabbing the wall, without much getting knocked off. Just the alarm wristlet and a tube of Daktacort cream.

As I was dried and getting fragranced and dressed, the Mobile Phone chirped again. With not using the shower, I’d left the door open, else I would not have heard it at all with the shower noise going.

I knocked over the clothes-airer on my way to the mobile, swore, and pressed on to get the phone. It was the Iceland delivery man, the keypad on the lobby door intercom, was not letting him ring me. So, Told him I’d nip down and let him in.

In my haste, I turned rather quickly and had a little dizzy spell. Resulting in a toe-stubbing against the Ottoman! But it didn’t bother me in the slightest, I just carried on… No, nope! I can’t lie, it hurt that much, this time I could not prevent myself swearing and blaspheming out loud for a few seconds! I hope that no one heard me! Got the four-pronged walking stick and made my way, in cripple-fashion, and muttering to myself, down to the front doors.

As the elevator got to the ground floor, the Iceland bloke was stood there with the six bags for delivery. I have now to admit, that I never thought about the only one in a lift at any time ruling, too late I remembered as we on the way up to the twelfth floor and my flat. Not turning out to be one of my best days, is it?

The chap put the bags through the door, as I stood back out of his way to distance us, and banged my bottom on the four-wheeled trolley box! Luckily, the toes were hurting me so much at the time, so I didn’t feel too much pain in the bum… until I sat down later! Gramshackle-Globberisations!

The poor chap had only just caught up with his round as well. Now, thanks to the Intercom failure, he was all behind again. I lipped him a can of G&T, to thank him and try to cheer him up a bit. He’s a decent sort of chap.

I got the bags sorted out. Not such a big order this week.

Got things put away. Only two items for the freezer, a 4oz beef boil-in-the-bag, and some of the rather delightful Iceland quarter pounder (4oz) beefburgers.

I got the black bags taken to the waste chute, and Oh, boy, were the feet humming and hurting. Especially the toes!

Coming back after depositing the bags down the chute, I stopped for a moment for the feet to rest a tad. No lights in the lift lobby. I thought they had been put on a timer?

I tried again to open the balcony door lock. No luck!

I went to get a drink of spring water, I’m trying to cut down on the amount of tea that I guzzle, and found I’d left the hot water tap running in the kitchen! Stone cold now! There are times when I really think I’m losing it! This is one of them. I did not have the hearing aids in, cause I’m so low on the batteries now. So obviously, I wouldn’t have heard the water running. Grangleturdsmanship, at its finest! 

No chance of any hot water now, I think the night-rate or whatever they call it, comes on around 17:00hrs. Wrangledollops!

I got some of the spuds delivered in the crock-pot, sea salt and drop of vinegar to season them. Can you see the can of baked beans and tomatoes sent in my food parcel, behind the slow-cooker? 840g!

They are too big for me to use the new electric can opener on them, and certainly not the hand one either. The ailments will not allow me to risk holding onto the can while it works, so many things can and do go apeshit all the time, that can be dangerous, and no warnings before they play up. Those that are likely to catch me out, are; Shuddering Shoulder Shirley, Dizzy Dennis, Saccades Sandra, Shaking Shaun, Neuropathy Pete, Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters dying, and the right legs involuntary drop-something and have a Neuropathic Schuhplattler dance; this often has me over or in a heap on the floor. Still, it stops me gerrin’ bored if nowt else!

Back on the computer, graphicalisationing on CorelDraw. But mental fatigue got to me, and I gave up early in the day and got the nosh prepared.

A steak and kidney pie, sliced the potatoes, a few silverskin onions, and far too many petit-pois. (But I ate them, and everything else on the tray!) I made some rich gravy to go on it. Two Marmite rice cakes, and a lemon mousse to follow. Lovely old style meal. Taste-Table; 9/10.

I got the pots washed (hot water back on! Hurrah!), and literally flaked out in the rickety recliner. No chance of any sleep, cause I hadn’t done anything to tire myself enough. I just felt so weary, not tired, drained emotionally, perhaps. Light nights back again, that doesn’t help in getting to sleep. 

Got the TV on. I wasn’t really watching it though, but sometimes it helps me fall to kip, but not tonight.

This photo of the feet and toes, makes them look in good condition? But they were giving me some bother. Many wee-wees were needed over the hours spent in search of sleep. Every time I got up on the feet, it was so much more painful than it has been of late.

Amazingly, Colin Cramps didn’t visit the legs or feet tonight – amazing! Mind you, he did get some exercise on the hands and fingers.

I can’t remember when I actually nodded off, but I recall starting to watch an old match of the day on BBC 1, which started at 23:00hrs. Typical, something comes on I wanted to view, and I fell asleep! Gruffingleisations!