03:00hrs: I stirred into semi-life, with a lightness not felt for a long time.
Which died off, as soon as I moved the legs (Arthur Itis), got to stand up (the crippling pains from the uncut toes and feet), and the instant I made a move towards the EOGPB (Emergency-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket), Anne Gyna joined in with the other, ‘Let’s Have a bash at Inchcock’ ailments. Even stood still, the feet and toes hurt, and Anne Gyna was steadily giving me more increasingly bothersome stabbing pains. Not a good start to the day!
But it got worse, so not to worry. Which turned out to be a totally different model to all of yesterdays leaks. It was a niggly WSSULL (Weak-Squirty-Spraying-Uncontrollable-Long-Lasting) style. Which kept me stood at the bucket, for far too long for the feet and toes, which started to give me even more discomfort. Humph! Silver Lining Search Results: Duodenal Donald was nice and calm. I could not see any bleeding from Little Inchies fungal lesion during the wee-wee.
I limped to the wet room, taking the bucket with me for emptying and sanitising. No sooner in the room, and the Porcelain Throne requirements arose. I took a photo of the poor-legs and feet. Still showing great etiolation, and pallidity. I felt as if they should be aflame, smoking! Such was the physical anguish they were giving me. Maybe when I’ve taken the painkillers with the mug of tea, things will calm down a bit. I hope!
And what a change in the evacuation department this morningtide! There appears to be a battle going on for control, between Constipation Konrad (Easily the winner over the last few days), and Trotsky Terence, who is launching a counter-attack with this one! Quick, not so painful, but, oh how messy and pongy! Also needing much more cleansing and cleaning was required after the affair was completed.
I got the sorting-out done, then sterilised the EOGPB. Washed and next, got myself (oh it was a struggle) to the kitchen. Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley kicked off, but Anne Gyna steadied a lot. Swings & Roundabouts, you know!
Took the medications, and made a brew. Then to the computer, where much work awaited me. With the Morrison order coming twixt six>seven o’clock, I worked as fast as I could manage, to give myself time to get the Ablutions done, before the arrival of the fodder.
I got an email from Morrison’s arrive. They have made some substitutions. Instead of Sweet potato battered fritters (one of my favourites), they sent McCain shake, shake sea and salt fries? Which will be no good for me, The freezer will accept no more frozen food. Also, I was well pleased to see when I put the order in, that they had some orange concentrated liquid wash in stock, and ordered one. It wasn’t really needed, but the chance to get my favourite orange-scented one was too good to miss for me. Well, I missed it! They sent Lychee & Passionfruit as a substitute. Eurgh! Gits! The worst thing for me was the frozen McCain substituted, which wasn’t even battered, or sweet potato that I had ordered! Gits!
I tended to the ablutions with a bit of haste. A stand-up job, no time to get a shower now. The pins were still playing up. I’m not sure if it was the lighting in the wet room, or the legs had regained some colour, but my guess would be the lighting. A few dropsied, but no toe stubbing this time around. All sorted, freshened up, olive-oiled the ear-holes, Germolided and Germolened things in need, Saccades Sandra drops in the yes, Phorpain gelled Arthur Itis’s knees, clothes on and back to the computer.
I got the Sunday blog updated and sent off. Then went on Pinterest, WordPress Reader and TFZer Facebooking. During which, the landline burst into sound and flashed. It was the Morrison driver.
The intercom would not work for him. Hello, that’s Iceland on Saturday, and now Morrisons? No one has said they have had any problems… mind you, I haven’t seen anyone have I, apart from Josie, and she does not have food delivered.
I had to get up on my poor pins, to go down to let him in. We came back up with two of us in the left! A dodgy risk that!
Worra day I’m having! We got to the flat, and as he was dropping the stuff in the foyer of the apartment, I mentioned about the fritters substitute. He searched the bags and told me they were not frozen ones. Like dim-pathetic-clot, I said that they would be alright then. Humph! Not the product ordered, not sweet potato, not battered, and they need the seasoning shaking in, before cooking; and I agree to take them!
As gullible idiots go, I reckon I am the cream of the crop! I forgot all about the Lychee & Passionfruit scented cleaner crap! I even gave thanked the driver with a can of G&T. But, the substitutes, and intercom not working, was not his fault, so I hope he enjoys it.
The substituted fries looked a little complicated to cook.
I got the delivery into the kitchen a bag or two at a time, and slowly stored away. I’d forgotten I’d ordered the hot dog roll, but did manage to cram the bread thins into the freezer. It took me a good while.
I spread the cleaning stuff about, some in the wet room. Others in the junk-room 2, and others under the sink in the kitchen.
I opted, in my mind anyway, to have the hot dog sausages with the rolls, and try these crap looking McCains, what a name? Shake-shake Fries, sea salt & cracked black pepper, things with the links later for lunch. With some tomatoes, maybe. We’ll see.
As I was clearing away the mess, I realised just how tatty the kitchen floor looked. I thought it had to be cleaned now! So, I did. But first, I was so impressed again with the view, I took a snap or two of it.
Perhaps subconsciously, to delay the pain of doping the mopping, that I knew was coming? Tsk!
A few months ago, and this task would not have been considered a problem in the least. But now, it was a mammoth undertaking for this overweight, short, plump, pain bearing, lack of confidence-ridden, depressed, fed-up, bald, bespectacled, lonely, confused, memory-challenged, zeyde!
It had to be said! Hehe! By the time it was done, I felt tired, done-in, the ailments were giving me some hassle, and yet, I felt a bit of pride and self-satisfaction, well almost, in getting it done. Smug-Mode-Adopted through the pain! Hehehe!
I took some extra Codeine 30g and got on with creating this blog. The poor chimes rang out, and it was ages before I struggled to get to the door, the feet were terrible now, and all the bending doing the mopping up. Back Pain Brenda had joined in with the ailments attack. Hahaha!
This was not good, Saccades Sandra was so bad now, I had to give up on the computing altogether. Shirley kept on with the occasional shudderings, and Dizzy Dennis visited. My concentration has gone now. Bitterly disappointing, I wanted to get some more graphics done in advance. The mopping up I expect has caused the problems. But not necessarily, things are bad at this moment.
I’m going to try and get some nosh, really struggling to see for typing. I may be back later. Who knows? Tsk!
Got the fodder prepped and served up.Hot dogs with tomatoes, onions, gherkins, the odd, weird fries, a lemon mousse, and two apple pies, and a mug of orange juice. Flavour Rating 6/10, those substituted by Morrison’s fries were not very good. But everything else was!
Got the pots washed, took the evening meds, creams, potions and lotions applied to various locations on the grossly-over-stomached, spindly-legged body, and got down in the £300, second-hand, c1968, cringingly-beige-coloured, inoperable, rusty, rickety, recliner. No longer working, after Zyrophobia suffering, supercilious Brother-in-law Pete, broke it when flat-searching, finding and taking my valuables, while I was the hospital after the stroke.
Dizzy Dennis joined me as I was making my mind up, whether to fall asleep trying to the Clint Eastwood in ‘The Dead Pool’ or ‘The Equaliser’ with Denzel Washington, two of my favourite movies, both showing at the same time – Humph! Not that it really mattered, there wasn’t a cat-in-hells chance my staying awake that late into the morning! Humph, again!
But I kept nodding off, swapping between the films, drifting off every time the adverts came on, waking up, nodding-off… What a pillock!
Nottingham’s Pensioner, with one or two ailments, and a mind and memory, he has little control of nowadays. Ah, well!