Inchcockski – Sunday 8th November 2020: A mentally differentiated day, but from what? Beats me!

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Sunday 8th November 2020

German: Sonntag, 8 November 2020

00:05hrs: The usual waking up wanting a wee-wee, with the innards warning me of an upcoming eruption from the innards, via the rumbling, grumbling, and quaking of the skin, literally making the folds of flesh hanging from my belly, shake, as the escapages of wind torrented away. Not only painfully, but even without my hearing aids in, I could hear the almost-musicals tones of the concinnity of the concert of escaping wind, too!

Then, as the mind gained some weak form of control over its own thoughts, the challenge of removing the bouncier than ever, bellied-body from the c1968 recliner was tackled.

A job that this morning, needed a man of steel, heroism, guts, bravery and determination to achieve; but being as I was the only person here, I had to do it myself. (Hehehe!) Clambering up onto my feet was completed with some degree of ease, but getting and keeping my balance, was a smidge difficult – even though there were no Dizzy Dennis, or Wobbling William’s bothering me.  A bit worrying, that was. I took my time patiently and eventually was ready to set off for the wet room.

The wee-weeing caught me out; it was a lot more dynamic than of late (which is a good thing), and of much greater duration! The colouring put me up in the ‘Fair’ zone on the NHS Bladder-Infection grading card. And, there was no Post-Micturition After Dribbling. (It’s [Fate], doing it again, to me, fooling me by slipping in some good luck, or mock improvement medical-wise, early in the day – experience knowing full-well I’m going to suffer later) – it’s so cruel! But I wasn’t going to go into any semi-contentment or smug mode. I’m not being going to be conned again! (Well, I might be)

As I was washing my hands after taking the leak, I knocked some bits off of the floor cabinet, and I returned to the front room, to get the long picker-upperer to reach in the corner behind the loo, where the Germolene tube and Hearing-aid oils had rolled. Tsk!

I noticed how the bruise or underskin bleeding, (Which is a bruise, I suppose – waffling again, sorry!), on the back of the left hand, was getting less darker, so it might be clearing itself up? Not any pain from it, unless I bang it against something, which if not in my plans. Hahaha! 

Back to WC room, reclaimed the dropped items, and off to the kitchenette, to get the kettle switched on. I peep out of unwanted, unliked, light & view-blocking windows revealed a fog-and-a-half had descended. I got the Nikon camera and took a shot of the view.

Health Checks: the sphygmomanometer showed the SYS had shot back up after yesterdays respite. Now at 174, Tsk! Took the medications with spring water and then, made a note to remind me to email the Doctor later, because I need to ask about the DioctylPoo-Softeners got the thermometer into use to see if the temp had gone up any. Medications, brew and computer on and photo downloading.

As I was taking a photograph of the morning fog, a summoning came to the Porcelain Throne. To which I hastily replied with a swift, fast, hurried lightning-like rush to the WC… Well, something like that, at least I hobbled hastily there! It seems that Constipation Konrad is losing the battle again, and Trotsky Terence was in command of this visit! It will be difficult to express the changes to the nurse; each time, from one extreme to the other, I can get easily discombobulated, you know!

I cleaned up, it was a messy one; and went to make a brew of Thompsons Punjana tea. And jolly decent it was.

Seeing the Chilli Con Carne cans there on the counter, I swiftly went into my Sherlock Holmesian Mode: I carried out a search and Chilli-Con-Carne shortage investigation.

I felt sure that I’d ordered three Hubbard’s cans from Sainsbury’s, and three from own label from Morrisons. I know that the Iceland shop didn’t have any of the Princes that I wanted, that bit I can recall. But: Did I put the cans somewhere else than in the kitchen? It’s possible, I suppose? So I had a reconnoitre in the other room. A degree of ferreting about produced a carrier bag, with a tin of Princes Chilli-Con-Carne, and Italian beans, and some packets of instant potato powder? And a puzzled expression on my face.

My total failure to find out what the mystery of the missing cans of Chilli-Con-Carne riddle was, Back to the computer, and bless their crooked cheating, incapable souls, Liberty-Global Virgin Media Internet went down!

I made up an Iceland order. For Thursday 12th November 08:00 to 10:00hrs. Unfortunately, they have no Chilli available, Tsk! Never mind, if I can get out one day, I can call at the Poundland shop to try and get some of their cheapos.

Time to get the Ablutionalisationing done now. The session did not go too well… (Understatement time!)

It was SSS (Shuddering-Shoulder-Shirley) who made the first attack. (I pictured her success here on the left) I had to admire her cunning, it was the only shake she gave me in the wet room, and her timing, just as I was about to pull the old razor down my cheek, was perfection. If I’ve got to have ailments, it’s a comfort to know they will keep me on my toes, although I got caught out well with this five-second-shudder! Globdangnations!

An absolute cracker of a toe-stubbing in the shower against the chair. And nearly, but not after-all, toppled over when I hit the doorframe coming out. Not even any bruises came up, a bit of a powder-puff effort.

Got many bags of waste sorted out, onto the three-wheeled-walker guide.

Took them in a box to the waste-chute room, without any incidents or damage. Slight-Smug-Mode adopted!

I popped down to Jenny’s with some treats the three of them for the weekend, and back up to the flat. Then I made a brew of the beloved Glengettie tea.

Made a start on prepping Josies ~Sunday lunch. Nicodemus’s Neurotransmitters played up, I wasn’t far off of cutting myself on the opener blade, but managed just to let it fall, and nae bother. No opening of the Tuna tins after that, just in case. So I got the battered cod sticks and smoked haddock filled fish cake, and got them in the oven cooking for her. She likes the tuna as well, but too risky as Nicodemus is at the moment, I nearly cut myself slicing the tomatoes, but luckily it was only the fingernail that was sliced. Phew! Risky work this cooking today, Hehe!

I got Josie’s dinner finished off and delivered it to her door, a little late today, 12:10hrs.

I had a bit of a nasty turn as I pressed the bells on the door. Dizzy Dennis, Head-Spinning Spiros, and Balance-Loss Lesley. I wasn’t completely with it by the time Josie answered the door. I think I was only there a couple of minutes, but many blanks in the memory box of what we spoke of.

As I was, for some reason struggling to get in through the doorway, it was as if someone had put the lights back on in my head; My balance returned, Dizzy Dennis disappeared, leaving me a little puzzled as to what had just happened? Looking back at the day, it’d been an odd-one in many ways. Hey-Ho! All fine now.

But I must try to resist going into these stupid ‘Disaster-encouraging’, misleading, Smug-Modes! It only makes the guaranteed cock-up, mistake, error, loss-of, picklement-coping, Whoopsiedangleplop, Accifauxpa, or incoming bad news, far worse to cope with ulteriorly.

I gave-in to, defeated by the sudden wave of Thought-Storms, and turned off the computer. Then opened the can of Churchills 5% beef Spicy Chilli-con-Carne, and added the remaining left-over peas from Josies’ nosh to the mix, and added a little gravy as it warmed up.

As it heated, I did some half-hearted, Stroke Recovery exercises, (Feeling guilty for not doing these more often), hoping this would help bring me into a more relaxed and contented mode. I was seemingly doing well with them… until Peripheral Pete, launched one of his involuntary right-leg Neuropathic Schuhplattler dances, and over I went, landing luckily on the plastic waste bins.

This put an instant end to any ideas of work-outs.

Getting back up was horrendously difficult, and I was close to having to press the wristlet alarm. But, somehow, I managed to crawl on all fours to Metal Mickey, and used him and the worktop to regain my stance. The mess I’d made of the waste bins was of no concern to me at that time, I was well miffed!

I got the part-baked baguette in the oven, and out some Phoirpain gel on the knees and bruises while it cooked. Took the evening medications, then got the meal served up.

This ‘Spicy’ Churchills Chilli-con-Carne, was the mildest I’ve ever tried, so much so, that I added and stirred in some chilli powder to the mix? If I can ever get to town again, I hope that the Poundland shop will have some of these in stick, or even stock.

I got the fodder consumed in its entirity, to satiety, and settled in search of sleep.

But, Sweet Morpheus was not playing fair, and the exasperating Thought Storms invaded again. Crigglebogsnot!

Finally, I drifted off. Only to be woken by I know not what, two hours later!

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit!