Inchcock – Tues 20 Oct 20: An incomprehensible, abstruse, recondite, discommoding day!

TFZers Going for a ride?

Tuesday 20th October 2020

Finnish: Tiistai 20 Lokakuuta 2020

00:00hrs: I awoke, with a medley of muffled and confusing thoughts hammering around the brain box. No wee-wee or Porcelain Throne needs to distract me this morning, meant a few minutes and headache gained by the time I pulled my concentration away from the malaise, of the muddled-melange of omnium-gatherum thoughts, fears, ambitions, and intentions, which did not stand a cat-in-hells chance of success, I’d nodded off again!

00:30hrs: The second-stirring: Suddenly wide awake, no Thought Storms either! I heaved, huffed and puffed, released my colossally-stomached with scrawny limbs attached, body and the bald-head, (No mean-feat at my weight, I can tell yer!), from the c1968 recliner. To find that Duodenal Donald was in a bad mood again, and giving me some stick. (It’s about time he gave me a break!) Still, there was no wee-wee wanted? Caught my balance easily enough this time, no falling back down on the recliner and bursting Harold’s Haemorrhoids… A tentative Smug-Mode was adopted! And I limped off to the kitchenette with Metal-Mickey. To get the Health Checks done.

I’ve got the hang of the new BP sphygmomanometer, but I must remember it takes three times as long to come to a result, as the old one did. If I remember, I’ll try the old one again in the morning, to see if it’s not the ‘New’ Duracell batteries that are the problem). The SYS was high again, Tsk!

The  No-Touch thermometer worked alright, but it turns itself off too quickly. I’ll try to make sure the camera is nearby in future; it read at first as 32.4°c – I retook it, and got 33.9°c? Another thing to remember, I must look it up on Mr Google, to find out how far away from the head to take the temperature from. I’m doing it about four inches? I hope any advice I get is in proper inches and not metric.

Took the medications and made a brew of Glengettie tea. Note in the picture, the Morrison skewer? These have a thick end and are easier for when I want a really strong cuppa, I can squash the bag against the cup. Difficult, nae, impossible when Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters are playing up.

I got a few potatoes in the crock-pot, plenty of Squid and distilled vinegar to flavour them. I added a bit of black pepper to them later on.  I’ll turn them on later. (Famous last words?)

I may not be a Chef de cuisine, but for a 44-year-old, failure, I keep trying. I’m getting betterer… Alright, alright, so I got the age a few months out! Hahaha!

I got onto the computer and answered some comments. Went on the WordPress Reader section. Then got on with updating the Monday blog, which seemed to take longer than ever. Mind you, a lot of photograph uploads, and doctoring was needed to the bad ones, so it looks like I took them right, the first time.

Nicodemus’ neurotransmitters were making it hard work, and Duodenal Donald was not helping my concentration at all. (Sodding useless Peptac!)

Aha, a sudden but non-urgent call to the Porcelain Throne arrived! So I saved all the work, turned of Computer Cameron, and decided to get the Ablutions done after the Throne Session. (Did yer see that? A cantlet of organisational-ability crept in, there! Oh, yes!)

Another stand-up job, too early to use the shower, with the Iceland delivery being expected early today.

Well, the Throne Session caught me out altogether. With being on the Dioctyl©, and taking the Macrogol, I anticipated a much easier session than the one I suffered! And with having eaten the Chilli-Con-Carne last night, I believed things would go a lot easier this time – But No! Constipaiton Konrad seems to be counter-attacking! After four days of lesseningly painful sessions, this one bounced back to Defcon Two standards! Agonyisticalisations! The Silver-Lining Search results: At least there was only a smidgeon of bleeding. I think the nurse is due to call me this week, to see how things are going with the wee-weeing, and pooping, she’s going to be happy with me, I don’t think!

However, looking through rose-coloured glasses, and being sanguine, the ablution session went not too bad at all… well, it could have been worse, maybe not one of my best ones, perhaps…

Alright, it was pandemonium Accifauxpa-wise! More dropsies than ever before. (Thank you, Nicodemus!) During the series of droppages, I broke the best razor, a bottle of aftershave slipped, and the spray-top cover burst open (Mind you, I smell nice now, Haha!) and I cannot get the cap off now! Cut my finger retrieving a plastic double-bladed replacement razor. Cracked my head against the sink when I dropped and bent down to get the body spray.

The Silver-Lining Search results: No toe-stubbing, no knocking anything off of anywhere, and only one incident of walking into the door frame, and that was a minor incident. And this cheered me up, the new haemorrhoid cream worked a treat! But then again, there was no bleeding when I used it. So it’ll need testing-out when applied as the blood is flowing. It could have been worse, really methinks!

As I came out of the wet-room, a series on unexpected, involuntary passings of wind shook me a bit, and the tummy began to ache instantly and has stayed that way for hours. I’m going downhill again. Tsk!

I did some more updating, and Duodenal Donald seemed to ease off considerably, but the innards were still aching badly. (Who can’t win? Humph!) I stopped computerisationing again, and put the kettle on, and popped out on the balcony to take a couple of photographicalisations.

The first one, to my right, was of the grave-hill path up into the park, from Chestnut Walk. Many months since I’ve been up[ there, and I remember struggling to get up it as well, Hey-Ho! Then, to my left and a slightly zoomed-in shot of Winchester Street. The building bottom left, shows the top-floor lights on, this is the National Laundry premises. Beneath them, are various rented garages, with a couple of Arthur Daley, “No problem you can have the MOT now…” type characters. Hehehe!

I got a message from Iceland informing me that I should be getting the delivery twixt 08:20 and 09:00hrs. Fair enough! I checked the email they mentioned. They have no frozen baked potatoes, so a refund had been arranged.

Shortly, the Intercom sounded, luckily Herbert was taking a break from his clattering and banging, so I heard it alright. I saw it was the Iceland deliveryman, pressed him in, and got a can of G&T for him. He came up and put the carriers inside the door for me in the hall, that was kind of him.

Slipped him the thank you can of plonk, and took the carrier bags through to the kitchen to sort out. As you can see, there was not a lot of stuff ordered today. Most of it was made up of plank for Christmas pressies, so I do not need to get any later. I’m all ready now, in case I’m kept in when the bowel op is done. See that as well? Forward-planning? Me? Oh, Yes!

This is all I had that was not for Christmas pressies. But I’m going to make up a Morrison order for next week. Here I go…

I got the Morrison order done, got confirmation, then realised I’d made it for this Thursday, not next Thursday. Doah!

But felt suddenly so bad, Duodenal Donald, Dizzy Dennis, and I’m swaying with hardly any control. I left it, got something to eat cooking. I rang Jenny to see if she had any details of the window cleaner arriving. All messy, truth we do not know if he is coming or not.

In the morning, the rest of today’s events are just a blur. No idea what I had to eat, no photo on the card, nothing recalled until I was stripped and in the c1968 recliner, and spent hours trying to get to sleep, it was as if I was drunk or something. It took me hours to nod off, then I sprang awake an hour later, at 23:00hrs, in need of a wee-wee… Tsk!