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INCHCOCK TODAY

Sunday 21st February 2021

Spanish: Domingo 21 de Febrero de 2021

05:40hrs: I woke up wondering what day it was, the time it was etc., confusion reigned. By the time I’d realised that I’d been sleeping for over fifteen hours, things didn’t seem to matter anymore? I had to battle the puddled mind to get a semi-grasp on reality. The first thing that came to me was that the prescriptions had arrived and needed sorting out into weekly pots.

I got in a muddle sorting them, and made a mistake after error, and have no idea if I’ve got them right or not. It took me hours.

I got the kettle on, and the summoning to the Porcelain Throne arrived. Off to the wet room.

I got down hastily on the raised plastic seat, and a most other-type evacuation began. The escaping product was black and red, looked like nuggets moulded together in a line? It hurt as well but at least didn’t last too long, which is just as well because Harold’s Haemorrhoids have never been more painful! It took a couple of hand-filled tank flushes to clear things away. Not a good experience, which I partly put down to the vaccine, mayhaps?

I cleaned up and got the Health Checks done. The pulse was up a smidge at 99bpm. The SYS and DIA were in range.

The body temperature at 37.0°c looked okay.

I cracked on with updating the Saturday blog. Got it finished and emailed the link. Pinterested a photo or two. Went on Facebooking catch-up. Then I went on the WordPress reader section.

I did the 2nd Health Checks a little sooner than planned. Looked okay to me.

I made a brew of Glengettie Gold and made some brekkers.

I took the fodder to the computer and ate my breakfast from the drawer as I started this blog going.

I got the ablutions sorted out, so I had plenty of time to get Josies Sunday meal cooked. The session went marvellously well!

Only one cut shaving, and a total of only about four dropsies! The showering was uneventful, but I did manage to misjudge the spacial-awareness coming out afterwards, but no damage to the door frame. I managed to clout the arm right where the vaccinations spot was. Hehe!

I mage up some waste bags and got them in the box on top of the three-wheeled walker in the hallway. I’ll take them down later, but not yet; there will be more mess made making Josie’s meal that will need sorting first.

I decided to get everything prepped as much as was possible beforehand.

I got the nosh together and all ready for doing up later and got on with handwashing my thin long-sleeve t-shirts.

All was done, wrung and hung, above the sink.

I got on with serving up the Sunday nosh, taking care with presenting it, as any Sunday chef would do. The BBQ sauced mackerel smelt lovely, and extra cheese and butter sneaked into the potatoes again; I wish I could have eaten it. Hehehehe!.

Delivered a couple of minutes before the instructed time of 12:00hrs, Josie seemed content with it.

I got on the computer to update this diary and was unsure how I felt in myself, not really. With the phenomenal amount of sleep I think I’d had, I felt I should have been perkier than I was.  I was almost irritable at any and everything that was happening, suddenly? I began to question whether I had had so much sleep… But it makes sense, so why do I begin to feel tired again, so early in the day? Mayhaps just the effects of the vaccination yesterday?

I made my way out of the flat door, stubbing my toe en route, and carefully made my way to the Waste-Chute room. Not a soul about. the usual Sunday misery.

I arrived, and dropped the various waste bags down the chute, and had a farcical series of dizzy spells. Odd, because each time it came on repeatedly, I was in a perfect position to grab hold of something for support. Amazing!

I got back and was not in any position to do owt constructive. Indeed fatigue and weariness ruled.

Didn’t feel up to eating or drinking at all. Got down and was soon in the land of nod; it was horrible. Forever jumping awake, specific concerns to the fore, a minute or two sleeping and back awake, remembering bits of dreams… well, nightmares.