Inchcock Today: Diary – Sunday 6th March 2022

Ode To Worry…

What’s lurking, waiting, for me to be worried?
Dementia Doreen is to be considered…
Cataracts, slowly my sight will get hid…
A world war? I bet Putin’s well-bunkered
Going deaf too… that would be horrid…
Peripheral Neuropathy, that’s got to be feared!
The falls dizzies it causes has me well wearied…
My memory loses, leaving even me bewildered…
But worry in itself is not to be cheered…
Getting through each day, things need to be altered,
I’ve taken it well, I think, not been a craven coward…
Luckily life’s been crap, so I’m not too bothered…
But what really annoys me… is the computer’s buggered!

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –

I stirred from my slumber, almost in a nonchalant mood? I worked out what day to was, and would usually have Thought-Storms, worries, fears, on my waking up – But not this morning! I felt in a laid-back sort of mood, which is something preciously rare for me. I can’t remember the last time they were absent when I was recovering consciousness.

There are the last two days even more amazing happenings. I’d not been worrying about anything at all, taking everything in my stride, even when I had all the bother with the computer… I basically thought, ‘Well sod-it! If it goes, it goes!’ I can’t be bothered with all this worrying, sod-it. Sod-it, sod-it! I knew it couldn’t last! But things are getting back to my usual worry-guts mode again.

Had a wee-wee, made a mug of Glengettie tea, and onto the computer… The Crabnabbed computer, which had had a dreaded windows update, would not let me get any photos recognised again! This really got to me. It confirmed the return on fretting and frustration were fermenting again! Took a picture of the end car park. If the computer lets me, I’ll have to add it later on, fingers crossed.

The innards gave off a rumbling, squelching sound. I decided to get the ablutions done while I was in there. No thought was given to the can of beans I’d just taken out of soaking and into the saucepan with some chilli seasoning – it may as well not have happened as my mind was concentrating on an injury-free wash and shave! Which very nearly happened. Nae bother with the nasal clearing, teeth-cleaning or shaving… not a single cut!

I felt somewhat cocky as I left the wet room, which will probably account for how I managed to get the walking stick entangled in the stand-up clothes airer; we both ended up on the floor in the hallway! I had to go on my hands and knees into the front room, and I used the rickety recliner to get back on my feet. But, no injuries, other than a knock on the elbow. Even Cartilage Cathy didn’t complain when I clunked down on the knee? It’s a funny old life, innit?

Β I suddenly remembered the beans in the pan! Like a greyhound out of the trap, I hastened to the kitchenette – well, I hobbled fairly quickly! All was well with the bean medley… I’d not turned the heat on! What a Plonka! So, I turned the heat on.

Carer Pricella arrived. A pretty sweet thing, she was made most welcome. She soon had the medications sorted. She kindly gave me a couple of minutes of waffling time and took the bags with her to the chute for me on her way out! πŸ’œ

I did the blogging in between nipping in to assess Josies’ meal. Managed to get some photos uploaded, but again, not all of them. Grungleturds! Got the WP comments were replied to and posted yesterday’s blog off.

I tended full time to prepping Josies’ nosh then.

Hope she likes this recipe. Chilli bean stew with extra beef, seasoned with the usual selection but added some black bean sauce, not a lot. The standard side treats and gin.

I proudly delivered Josies’ meal to her door, with an extra pot she could have later on.

I arrived a the prearranged time of between 5 to twelve and five past.

Josie was looking alright and up for a chinwag… well, more like an interrogation of what’s in the bowl. Hehehe! β™₯

Then I concentrated on getting this blog started. After five hours, it still wasn’t anywhere near finished. Humph! Dementia Doreen, Cataract Cathy and Peripheral Neuropathy Pete made sure that my progress was so slow and error-ridden!

The day’s gone again? What happened? Hehe!

I’d better get my nosh sorted. Battered fish with chilli, BBQ chips and a can of garden peas, methinks… but anything could happen. Better get a move on, or the Carer might get here while I’m scoffing.

Dingledick! Again I forgot about adding the peas I’d left in the saucepan! I wondered why I’d got all that room to add the sauce on the plate. Anyroad up, I liked the mild chill flavour of the battered fish. Nice! Washed the pots, had a wee-wee, and I got done in the c1969 recliner. Put the TV on, and fell into a deep, deep sleep. Zzz!

Sunset photo’s

Beautiful set of sunset photos produced,
Admiration of nature induced,
Forgot about my traumatologist…
Appointments that I’d missed…
But I must call my audiologist.

As photos go, they’re not my shabbiest.
Possibly, even some of my best?
Worries were temporarily dismissed…
My Thought-Storms were vanquished,
Natures changing colours; inspirationist,
I thought I heard a harpsichordist!

I hope to see my ophthalmologist…
Cause not seeing-well makes me pissed!
Not suitable for a photographist…
My ailments thoughts were intensive…
But, theseΒ  photos were recompensive,
After a day of being at my crankiest,
A few moments at my blessedest! β™₯

This Ode wrote by Inchie, Who is old!

Carer Julia came in; I didn’t hear the chimes, the ears are getting worse?

I can’t remember much at all about Angel Julia’s visitation. I wasn’t really with it much, still partly asleep, methinks. That is not normal for me cause I love this gal and her helpful, patient ways. I can recall going with Julia to the front door, but that’s about it. Another mystery?

Getting back off to sleep was not easy, as tired as I was. I put the TV back on; that did the trick. I wish I’d tried that earlier than I did now.

Nemo Mortalium Omnibus Horis Sapit

27 thoughts on “Inchcock Today: Diary – Sunday 6th March 2022

  1. I hate it when I can’t remember my goings on with a beautiful woman. You remember Priscilla’s presents, that’s good. Good looking food all the way around. You are becoming a great sunsetmeister.

    • Cheers, Tim. Don’t know if its Dementia Doreen or some other ailment that’s give me the mind-blanks… Humph!
      I think the sunsets disappear soon, clocks changing and all that? I could be wrong, I usually am, you know. Haha!

  2. Thought storms can begin during the least threatening portions of any day, lurking silently in the background, waiting for the moment that you least expect to alarm placid moods and to replace them with a familiar dread that drifts into your spirit to join the flying beasties of Pandora’s disturbing, screaming, biting and spiting monsters. Every mood but hope springs out as your eyes dart about to locate them, to toss them into the nearest available abyss. Then to discover that they emit from the dark and hidden corners of your mind, to realize that the denizens who author the vagaries of your spirit know that they cast long shadows and are resilient before every attempt to dispel them. We are each the authors of every word in a story that spans the length of your life, imbues with all the doubts, triumphs, and solutions you concoct. The spot will not out.

    • I recall thought storms that have vexed my spirit, so I toss some words up into the air and see which ones land where. Then, I watch for lightning and hope that they burn off all my remaining red spots. πŸ™‚

      • I received the test results this morning, it is some shade of eczema. Fortunately, this particular flavor of eczema is easy to cure: a round of prednisone for a couple weeks and I should be looking my abnormal self again.
        Haha!
        The spots are becoming less angry than the earlier bright red pustular freaks, now more pinkish β€” they are flatter than plonk!

      • I am doing well without the Humira right now. Actually, when taking 40 mg of prednisone per day, it messes with the other medications. It doesn’t seem to hurt the INR, at 2.5 it just hit the perfect reading for blokes like me. So far, so good.

      • Fingers crossed, Bill, for you…
        For things to improving is overdue,
        HRH Lisa, will look after you…
        A special lovely lady, that is true!
        I think we make, a happinss crew! β™₯

      • Taking Humira and prednisone at the same time is contraindicated, as some physicians might advise.
        Lisa has taken an extraordinary amount of time debriding the wounds, given the total that have come and gone over the month or so. She learned the process by having to go to a local hospital’s wound clinic. Between visits HRH would work on her own extensive wounds, bestowed by the quacks who call themselves doctors. That made my own red spots look small by comparison.
        Do you know what they call a doctor who ranks last in his class?
        Secretised answer spelled backwards:
        rotcod.
        Haha but not really.

      • You be an Humiaistoneite, Bill. Hopeth things still balance out.
        HRH is suffering through failings of others, that wrangles me, so you must be so angry!
        Love to all, and thanks to Alan for caring, and Furry for purring. It all helps. Cheers.

      • The olde ailments make up their own minds on how quickly or very slowly things proceed. Yes, a balance must be reached.
        HRH has taken so many slings and arrows of the outrageous-fortune variety, and none of them deserved. Wrangles me and all of a good heart. Anger-inducing most certain.
        Alan has assembled a piece of furniture, and with considerable aplomb. Would have taken me all day and night, and then returned to the shipper. Furries fare well, including the hobo cats who know that a meal may be found at number 37 Crowell Ave. Cheers to all.

      • I often think of HRH, makes me realise that I have no right to complain. Poor gal, and I can understand your emotions, mate. For πŸ’›Lisa πŸ’›.
        Thanks to Alan, and all the clan for caring for the little hobo and sharing.

      • We watch a YouTube program often, they take in any animal from a donkey to a goldfish. I am vegan because of a sensibility to all animal life anywhere. Have been quite fully vegan for a couple decades, a vegetarian for the 20 years before that. I do tend to get gung ho on some things like that. But I am otherwise quite harmless.
        This evening I had to press down on HRH’s smaller toes on the left foot to relieve contractions upon the leg. My stuff is as nothing compared to the utter enormity to all the stuff a dozen quacks can damage.

      • Well put, Sir! I was talking with US Care Julia about vegetarianism, she was pleased with me getting the beanburgers, bean pasties and is trying to wean me off of bacon… but I fear the taste is too good. She is a vegan, too!
        Have they tested you for Peripheral Neuropathy, Bill? You may not have it of course, but thetest tickles, and that bits fun! Hahaha!
        β™₯.

      • It is always a pleasure to find a fellow vegan, there are not too many of us. Palates change the more you wean from meat and all its byproducts. Glad that you have contact with at least a couple vegans, we are not stereotypes by any measure β€” just regular ordinary marvelous people. To put it modestly. πŸ™‚

  3. I am designing another piece of machinery that might work betterer: blaring words at the blasted thought storms, hopefully sending them scurrying for escape. As they scurry, I envision a maze that takes them to the porcelain throne. A Rube-Goldberg device drops the toilet-seat lid on those T-Storms and pushes the flush-lever. It just might work?
    An invention that deserves a patent number, nicht wahr?

    • Tickled me pink that one did!
      It certainly does, Billum! I’ll look up Rube-Goldberg on Google…
      Hahahaha! The self-operating napkin! Not seen these before, I’ll have to write the name down and somehow find time and eyesight to add your head on one of the cartoons?
      Temporarily, I wish to grant you patent number: HRH 01 Billum 01, I fank you, Sire!

      • Rube-Goldberg devices are fun to follow. The more mundane the task, the more complicated the solution. I look forward to having my noggin appear on a Rube Goldberg πŸ™‚
        That patent number is easy to remember, and it has the full faith and support of the Inchcock Foundation. The lab needs some refurbishing, my favorite hobby.

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