♥ Classy TFZer lassie Gladys! ♥
Saturday 6th March 2021
Igbo: Satọde 6th Maachị 2021
01:25hrs: I woke and lay there, desperate to claw back some of the memories of the many dreams I’d been having. But, it was not to be. I know that some were had a joyful nature to them, and I had the abilities (in the dreams) that have been long lost to me! Klappboggleworth! I could not remember any details… well, other than I was in raptures and Little Inchies fungal lesion was bleeding. So there had been some inordinately rare movement in that department!
The Daktacort ointment will have to be applied to stop the bleeding, so I have no choice other than to extricate my generously-over-ample stomach and body from the c1968 recliner, catch my balance of trot (limp) to the wet room to do so. I arrived, and I found I needed to utilise the Porcelain Throne first.
Oh, dearie me; Trotsky Terence was back in full-control again! A 3-0 win over Constipation Konrad. I’d just picked up the crossword book as well, in anticipation of the delayed kick-off that I’ve had for the last three visits to the Throne. The semi-liquid evacuation started at a fair pace. But things got stuck-up and very gooey, messy then. I waited, hoping that the mess would flow again, and even got three answers to clues! Sure enough, the movement began also, but it was so squooshy, stinky, and a right flaming mess to clean up – with Little Inchies fungal lesion bleeding and dripping down the legs, and the PP’s down, naturally, this made it a mammoth job to clean up! Still, it didn’t bother me much; I just pressed on and cleaned it all up?
Fantastically, the bog’s first flush cleared the sticky mess and all of the toilet paper in one go? Not been known for months that!
Then, of course, the onerous job of medicating and cleaning things up in the front lower area had to be done. I started the last Dakacort tube and went through the as expected, painful job of applying the ointment. Ooh, argh, Eeek! But it stopped the bleeding in a short time (phew!) I washed around and changed the PPs, had a belated wee-wee, and went to get the Health Checks done.
I made a brew on the way, took the missed evening medications (Ahem!), and tended the Health Checks. The Boot’s Sphygmomanometer readings were SYS 166, DIA 76 and PULSE 92. All a smidge high, I thought.
The body temperature on the new contactless Chinese thermometer came out as 36.8°c – 98.24°f. For some reason, beyond my capabilities to work out, the Canon camera photo came out all red? But the screen was in light-green? Hey-ho!
I went to open Excel to compare and record the readings on the graph, but guess what? I couldn’t access Word or Excel… Again!
Why do they charge me for extras I can’t remember asking for on MS Office, and then they deny me access. This is the third time they have updated, and I couldn’t use either for a day and a half! Well, I’m disgusted with them! Do the profitable morons think we are all idiots? Ah, well, in my case, perhaps! What do I do if, this time, it doesn’t come back on? I must think of another way of storing my medical recordings. It was so easy to start with to send them to the clinic, as well. Damned Microsoft Gits!
I got the Friday Diary finished. Emailed the link and Facebooked.
The ablutioning time arrived, earlier than usual. I usually do them at 08:00hrs, which should not disturb the neighbours’ sleeping (lucky monkeys!) With the Morrison delivery being due, twixt 07:00hrs and 08:00hrs, I had to start the session by 06:00hrs.
So, off to the stand-up ablutionalising session, I hobbled. As I took off the long bamboo diabetic socks, I decided and got them soaking in the kitchen sink to wash afterwards. I just can’t make my mind up or stop fretting and thinking, can I?
Back to the wet room. The nasal clearing went well enough, no bleeding or choking! Then I got the teeth cleaned, a lot less painful this morning, oh, three dropsies!
The shaving started, and a mystery found here; as I was bending down to pick up one of many dropped razor, some blood dripped down onto my nose? I investigated and saw a little cut on the top of my bald head? How? No razor goes up there, no need? Anyroad, it was only a tiny nick… possibly done by one of the mysteries of Woodthorpe Court; the phantoms, kelpies, spectres, poltergeist, spirits, manifestations, zombies, demons, cacodemons, rakshasas, hellions, aliens, extraterrestrials, hobgoblins, apparitions, elfins, pishogues, apparitions, gremlins, and ghostly goo-like Ectoplasms! Hehehe!
But I did better shaving the face and neck, not a single nick at all!
I had to wash the new tackle department, of course, if I triggered the fungal lesion off again. All went well, then the getting on of the new bamboo hosiery, and not using Sock-Glide-Glenda, either! Which proved a painful experience and a mistake, perhaps? Tsk! Rolling up the first sock, I cunningly placed my bum in the corner of the room to try and avoid going over. Noteworthy, the hose went on at the second attempt, and I could have sung-out with joy! (I think I did, actually?)
Then with the second sock, things did not go so well… As I was full of confidence now, I rolled up the hose but could not get the Cathy Cartilage and Peripheral Pete affected right leg up high enough, and foolishly, stood with the leg part-way up to the other knee, and over I went! Clattering down the wall and hitting Harold’s Haemorrhoids on the floor cabinet on my way to the floor!
However, I did get them on eventually! Hahaha!
The silver-linings were that the piles did not start bleeding, nor the fungal lesion. So, although I was annoyed at myself. I realised it was my own stupidity that caused the calamity, so no moaning from me about it! (Well… a smidgen, perhaps?)
Got the Germoloid on the haemorrhoids, some more cream, well, ointment, on the fungal lesion, and olive-oiled the ear-holes. Sprayed some manly deodorant all over me (Old Spice, I think?), started coughing, and tidied the room up. Off to make a brew of Glengettie.
Washed the socks and got them hung above the sink to drip dry. I’ll move them nearer the heater when it’s safe to do so, and no chances of any dripping. (Pork or beef! Hahaha!)
Back on the computer, but the delivery was due, so I thought I’d go and help the man carry the stuff up to the flat. What a mistake to maker!
I went down to the front lobby with the box on the trolley-guide; at least I should help a little in getting the bags back up to the flat. The man was not a very lovely person and seemed to take an instant dislike to me before I said anything to him, apart from, Good morning! He was keen to see my I.D., and I told him it was up in the flat? He checked my date of birth. Questioning each detail. I put two of the lighter bags in the box on the trolley and began to take it inside… as I turned, the man was driving off!
So, there I was, stuck downstairs, and somehow had to get seven bags of food up to the flat! I really did knacker myself.
- I had to carry some bags individually into the lift foyer.
- Go back and collect the others, take them through.
- Return back and get the trolley with the two light bags on it, and get them to the lift foyer
- Then, when the lift arrived, I had to manage it so that the door didn’t shut on me, get the six loose bags into the cage, then the trolley and box!
- As I got to the twelfth floor, a chap was not pleased that he couldn’t get in the elevator. I have been sneered at a few times, but this man was an Ace at it! I felt awful!
- Got the bags, trolley and box out onto the lobby floor… To make things worse, the lift door shut on the man… I could fell the virtual arrows coming my way!
- Next, I had to move the bags and trolley to the loft lobby door, get the loose bags through, then the trolley and me inside. Carry them down to the front door; I was struggling by now and feeling a little strained and drained!
- At got the bags and trolley inside and had to stop. I just stood there fighting for me to breathe for a couple of minutes.
- Then I took the bags through to the kitchen, put them on the floor, and needed another minute or two to properly collect myself.
- Collated the bags and got them sorted out… slowly, very slowly!
- They had sent that horrible seedy bread, not the white sourdough I was looking forward to having tonight. Crap!
- The ice-cream had partly melted!
- The tomatoes were squashed!
- The swiss roll mini-cakes were mangled entirely!
- The fridge looked a little bare, to say all the stuff I’d just put in it?
- I think I must have been having a funny-moment, that wasn’t funny!
- One of the tubs of Custard & jelly was broken, plastic split!
- But was I bothered? Did I mind? Yes, I bleeding did! I felt right, cheated and mistreated!
Luckily it didn’t bother me too much (Lying Swine!)
Back on the computer, still short of breath and coughing something rotten again! The worst thing about the whole farcical delivery was that it had destroyed the unaccountable lightheartedness that I’d been enjoyed for a day and a half! Now, Depression Dennis was taking a hold on me.
I sourly updated this diary with the above details, then the sneezing started? What’s going on here?
I tried to remember the things I had not done earlier and conducted my scribbled notes. I tried the crap, overcharging, shitty, unreliable Microsoft Office programs again.
What a pratt, I actually thought it would open and work! Not the way my luck has changed in the last two hours or so! So, no updating the medical figures, then! I’m getting low now!
Ah, I remember, it’s TFZer Shirley’s birthday. I’ll make a graphic and put it on Facebook.
I feel a little better now for remembering. ♥
I risked making myself feel more depressed by looking at the local Emagazine for anything worth promoting. Apart from local yobbo drug gangs letting off fireworks each time they get a new supply to let their pissant users know, the possibility of Nottinghamshire Covid-19 Vaccination centres might have to close, due to supply issues, there was not a lot worth reading about. Mind you, the Covid-19 new cases were well down over the last seven days. So, not all doom and gloom… even if I am currently in a ‘Doom & Gloom’ attack.
I decided to try the crap malted seasoned bread. It might be okay. I made up a cold meal, imitation Dagwood sarnies, pork & stuffing meat, and tomatoes. Chip sticks, roast onions and some sugar snap peas and got settled early to dine. Tray on my knee, feet up om the swivel chair, and tucked into the nosh!
The malted grain-seeded bread was worse than I’d hoped it would be, tastewise. But with plenty of pork, stuffing and butter on it, it worked out to be enough to mask the bread a bit. I gave it a Taste-Rating of 6/10.
Washed the pots, and settled down to watch some TV, Auf Wiedersehen Pet and Rosemary & Thyme, 2 episodes of each following each other. Of course, I missed most them, thanks to the kind for once Sweet Morpheous allowing me to nod off into a dream interrupted but much-needed sleep! Ah, nice!
2 thoughts on “Imputed-Inchy, Saturday 6th March 2021, Diary”
You put on the Ooh, argh, Eeek! Dakacort to stop the bleeding at one end, and you go and cut yourself with the razor, and start bleeding at the other end. There’s no end to your bloody bleeding it seems. Well, you at least know you’re still alive, right? You do such an amazing job of staking up the trolley. I would think the Tate should like a stacked trolley installation. You are getting good at getting those sexy stockings on your legs. The Dagwood sandwich and fries look great. Too bad the malted bread was a fail.
Yes, I was on a roll with bleeding, Saturday. Hehehe!
Ah, the Tate (why do I always get a mental picture of that crap pile of bricks, when the Tate comes up?) It really creased me getting the fodder sorted out, mate.
Ah, that’s another let down you reminded me of, from the Amazon, Morrison shopper – I asked for sourdough bread, not malted – then the git leaves me struggling to get… never mind, I must rid my brain of it! Haha!
Ah, well, back to the Throne…