04:30hrs: Getting my head down so late last night, caused a bit of good fortune – I slept, uninterrupted, dream-free (I think), for over five hours! Yee-Ha!
Of course, this meant instant panic and worry about my getting everything done today, with such a late start! A bi gezunt! No time to lay there, or uhtceare. Anyway, the need for a wee-wee encouraged me to free my body-mass from the c1968 recliner, and get my balance, and scuddle to the EOGPB (Essential-Overnight-Grey-Plastic-Bucket). I honestly think I only moved a few fluid ounces, and half of them sprayed all over me! Grumbleskins!
I got the bucket, and myself cleaned up and visited the kitchenette, to get a mug of Thompsons Punjana, take the medications and do the Health Checks, oh, and take some photos from the window, not necessarily in that order.
I collected the MacroBid and Dioctyl from the computer desk. I tried the new ear-thermometer this morning, pleased to see that it worked the first time and came up with a figure. 34.6°Cc. Which marries with the level shown on the stick thermometer. I’ll see on Google and convert it to Fahrenheit. It gave me 94.28°F, which is a fair-figure, methinks?
The BP sphygmomanometer results were also pleasing, SYS and DIA both down, as well as the Pulse, I’ll do a check on Google again… “normal rate 60 and 100 beats per minute (bpm), so, another good one. I wonder if this will last? Hahaha! I had a swig of the pathetically weak Pentac medicine, followed my gulps of the splendid tea, and Took the photographs, both in the Aperture Priority mode, with the Nikon camera.
These could be used if anyone was making a film-noir movie or commercial? Just a thought, here’s another, do you think that the Tate Gallery might be interested in buying them?
If they can “spent taxpayers’ money” for a load of bricks, in fact ‘they’ paid so-called artist Carl Andre, £2,297 for the pile of bricks, in 1976. Bear in mind that £2,300 in 1976 is worth £16,664.29 today. I’m imperseverant when it comes to an understanding such stupidity from the Tate, in accepting crap from someone so desperate for success, a Fame-Whore like Carl? They could have had both of my photos for a tenner!
But, of course, it doesn’t bother me in the slightest. Oy-oy, oy!
A most-urgent calling to the Porcelain Throne arrived! I scuddled off to the wet room, arriving with seconds to spare. But the usual start then stopping occurred, and I reached for the crossword book.
But no time for puzzling, for the motion restarted much quick than of late, although still painful, it as over in seconds, leaving me with a mess to clean up. I had to use two flushes, refilling the tank by water, jugged from the sink, in between, then get myself sorted, cleaned and medicated. Poor old Harold’s Haemorrhoids had gone through a rough time. Not much bleeding, though.
I reckon that the Dioctyl capsules are getting a grip on the situation at last. Says he, in hopes! However, the MacroBid UTI infection antibiotics, are taking their time in changing the colour of the urine, I checked with the card, and the colour is now between 6 + 7 on the scale, which is classed as Very and Severely dehydrated. No improvement at all, in fact, it is darker orange than before I went on the medication last Thursday? I increased my intake of spring water, as they recommended.
As I got on the computer, dear old Herbert started working on his models. Clunk, tap-tapping. But not for long.
I made a start on creating a template, then started to update the Thursday blog. I was in a zwodder, mentally, and jumping all over doing things out of order, and getting myself all irritated in doing so, but somehow kept on meandering and forgetting where I was and what I was doing and supposed to be doing. Jenny would know a name for this; she’s a clever gal. Next time we chat, I’ll ask her, then I can use the word to show off. Hehehe! Cheerio, sanity! Then…
Things seem to get worse when I went to get the ablutions done;
I suffered more dropsies than ever before!
Had a cracking cross between the Twist and a Waltz when Peripheral Neuropathy Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and I ended up going over onto the floor!
Banged my right elbow on the corner of the floor cabinet, and knocked a few things off of it.
I couldn’t find the shaving foam, and I’m sure I had some, and another full one ready? No shave today, then!
I considered putting some socks on, as it was getting reet cold. But stood there looking at the scary, scowling Sock-Glide, and a moment of resistentialism came over me?
It seemed that Pareidolia had gripped me, as I started talking to the damned thing! But I chickened out of using it, not that I was scared or anything like that, of course. Cough, cough!
Getting some new PPs on, and they ripped as I pulled them up? Oh, heck!
I remembered a little late that it was time for the next Dioctyl capsule to be taken. Forced plenty of water down with it.
I got back on Computer Cameron, and carried on with the blog updating, but not for long! Good old Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet went off again. It’d been dead slow all day!
I think Herbert must have gone out. It’s tranquil around the place. Even the ‘Hum ‘ is not as bad as usual, mind you, I can hear the drone from the plant room on the roof.
It’s already gone my head-down time already. Still, I will give in to my tiredness and get something to eat. Then I’ll collapse in the recliner. The internet is so bad and slow now it’s back on, but I’ll have a look at the Coronavirus figures first, internet permitting. Well, it wasn’t!
I got the nosh made. Fell asleep eating it. I cleaned up the mess from the tray falling off of my knees. Had a wee-wee, for what it was worth, it was more like a quick spray of air freshener without the nice scent.
Settled in the recliner, and waited for sleep to come… and waited… and waited…