SATURDAY’s POLITICAL CARTOON
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I had not had any sleep to speak of; one horrendous night; With  Thought Storms, and each time I moved an iota, either the or else would wake me up, not that I did a lot of nodding off last night. At around 0600hrs, I was forced out of the discomfort of the £300, second-hand, musty, Haemorrhoid Harold Testing, cringingly beige, crumb-covered, not-working, rickety recliner.
Standing up, and getting to the Porcelain Throne, has never been more excruciating.

I got to the wet room and proceeded with the evacuation. Apart from a little bleeding, there was no struggle or pain involved. I decided, as I have done for several days now, that as I was already in there, I’d get the done. Which I did! I felt sure that I’d hear the door chime music if a Carer Came.
Started with the shaving. Determined not to get so many cuts this time, I went steady with the razors… but that was not working, not around the neck, anyway.
It’s not fair that the hair does no longer grow on the head but is growing enthusiastically on the neck and shoulder tops. I’ve just got to apply more pressure to get the soft twine-like razor-blocking type. I acquired about eight cuts, all on the neck, so I couldn’t see them. Looking in a mirror at one neck hole is impossible with and   jerking you about.

Got around to the medicationalisationings.
Harold’s Haemorrhoids first. Always the easiest one to tackle.
Then the worst one, pain-wise, Little Inchies Fungal Lesion. A few, well, many Oohs and Arghs were released while doing this task.
I believe a couple of words describing my hatred of the lesion sneaked out, too!

The farce of trying to put the eye drops in the eye seemed more ridiculous than usual today. I used about a third of the new bottle, and of that, I doubt if much of it actually got into the cataracted eye. The nose, cheek, chin and chest… Yes! No problem with the nose spray. Germolenes the creases in the belly and put some on the neck cuts that were resisting the Brut and were still bleeding. I rubbed some into the hands as well. But there was no way I could get close enough to do the toes! Humph!
I’d have done the toes as well with the Phorpain. But the problem’s the same, isn’t it? I can’t get to them. I think I’ll ask one of the Carers to rub them both in if they would for me.

I was getting the fresh PPs out and realised I had left the trousers in the front room. So I popped in to retrieve them from the computer room;
The evening Care had let herself in and was at the Carers Desk when I limped into the room – naked, I thought at the time! Oh, what a mistake to maker! I hid behind the back of the recliner. Thank heavens that I noticed I actually had put the PPs on! Phew!
The was Sam. It all happened so long ago, it 18:00hrs, and as I say, the fatigued is coming on, so with that, the memory and concentration fade. So things may be short on detail from here on, as I have only my poorly scribbled notes to go by.

I missed putting this photograph of the morning view I took earlier.
Another not-too-great shot. I’m becoming quite skilled at taking these. And also the shaky-+looking pictures. Not to mention the mystery photos that came from I know not where. Oh, I mentioned them!
Noisy-Neighbour Herbert, in the flat above, has been knocking and tapping away on and off for hours now. And this continued until 17:00hrs When I got a blessed relief from them. Must have been having his dinner. I am afraid I am getting pissed off with Mr Untouchable, and for an hour or two, maybe four, each time he kicked off, I hit the ceiling with Metal-Micky. Who has not left my side and has been used so many times? I hope he complains… mind you knowing that ignorant superior, loved by the Nottingham City Homes Management, it’ll be in the wrong, and I’ll get myself thrown out of the flat.

Blogging on and off all day, and as the day progresses, so do my mistakes, errors, Whooposiedangleplops and concentration.

I spotted a bag of prescriptions on the Carers table that will be left for Richard to sort out on Monday.

I keep meaning to ask Richard if Meridian might ask for some Anusol to be put on my monthly prescriptions. Having to pay over £7 for a tiny tube is prohibitive. I hope I remember to ask and that they do add it monthly.
I got the bowl with some Dettol and washing-up liquid in it and gave the feet a good soak.
The toes are just not easing up, pain-wise. Mind you, paying a woman £25 pounds to cut your toenails, and she cuts your toes as well, almost every time you go… Is not good! I shall ask whichever Carer comes tonight (Assuming one does come, of course) if they will rub some Germolene on the toes gently. And Phorpain Gel on the ankle and legs. Surely I must get some sleep tonight after last night’s sleepless nocturnal hours?

Just as I was correcting the multitudinous above passage, there really was a lot of them to do! Arrived and read the above passage after giving the medications. Although she was late, she still agreed to do my feet for me; bless her cotton Socks! She’d seen where the tubes were and got on with looking after me. She’d chatted while doing them and was deserving of some extra treats, which she selected. ♥

Ah, the feet felt better now! I was not hungry at all? So no cooking; I could concentrate on sleeping. Got the TV on so I could fall asleep when the commercials came on. I took a Hemp capsule; hopefully, that should calm me down, ready for the much-mossed sleep ahead. I thought I had worked out well all that I could do to encourage Sweet Morpheus to visit me.
Got the computer off. Some nuts and bikkies on the Ottoman next to the chair, with a litre of blackcurrant and apple-flavoured spring water.

Now for the challenge! Can I get to sleep?
Will the Thought-Storms arrive?
Will the unneighbourly, superior-natured, snotty, unfriendly, superior-acting standoffish kick-off so late at night again? With his weekend concerts of banging, tap-tapping and thudding again? Or, mayhaps, either or will ruin things for me?
We Shall See. I’ll report back in the morning to finish this blog. Fingers crossed of course.

I’m back.
I weakened and made a meal of sorts after all. A roasted vegetable Risotto with BBQ sauce added a banana and a pot of lemon mousse. The mousse was not eaten. The fries were added, and I dined while watching the 1968, I think, cup final twixt Coventry City and Tottenham Hotspur. Flavour rating: 8.2/10.

I washed the pot, back into the recliner and soon fell asleep… Bliss!