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After yesterday’s decision to do summat about my not being able to stay asleep, I found a self-wotsit page on it from the NHS – and filled it in.
Here are the results with m comments added. Hehehe!

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– – – – – – – – – – – –State of the Up-for-Adoption Inchie– – – – – – – – – – – –
Now, I’m really worried, folks,
Got the Catheter night bag off without any
leaking, breaking or dropping owt.
One, not serious, walked into the door frame.
Things seemed too contented for my liking…
The Computer is jerky, but working.
Just one Porcelain Throne visit.
Had help getting the Asda food to the kitchen!
Back to the computer.. and…

“Jumpin’ Jahosafat!!!
CorelDraw had replaced icons, toolbars and dockers.
I had to set about trying to get the others back on and the unwanted off of the programme. Which I actually did in less than nine hours!
AGAIN I let a smug mode come over me.
When will I ever learn?
This time I was so sure I got it as I wanted it… well, as near as I was ever going to, anyway. Displaying great stupidity, naivety, & idiocy. Pitifully unwarranted confidence that it was set right, and brainlessness, I clicked set as defaults. Within an hour, I found I had not replaced the Text-Options box link – not the select-all, Place in front or behind icons.
Another day spent not getting anything done that needs doing!
Tomorrow, I’ve got to go… well, not got to go, but I would like to go to the
diabetic meeting in Winwood Court. So more time is lost in the ether. Why I want to I do not understand cause it’ll be just the same as at the Bulwell meetings, which I can’t get to now with the catheter. I can’t see the whiteboards or written advice, can’t hear whoever is talking… I’ll have to think about this decision…

I woke, got up, and took off the night bag, which had a healthy-looking coloured content, warm; almost hot, of wee-wee.

And for the first visit of the day to the . The evacuation was swift and, for once, not splattery or overly messy. Only and of course, the Queen of ailments for all of last week, , was reaching an 8 on the pain scale meter. Lugging the bowls of water from the kitchen to refill the non-working WC tank three times each flush… well, it’s some exercise, innit?

Pottered about making up and sorting the waste bags for collection. And the morning Carer arrived. I took the tablets, pills and medicine like a good boy. While was here, the Asda order arrived.
Shaquille helped to carry them through the kitchenette with me.
I had ordered some fresh-cut vegetables, bearing in mind last week’s finger, chin and knuckle cutting.
This is all the fresh stuff that arrived.

Shame!.
Still, I got Asda Essential which is now not so cheapo plain yoghurt, that I was planning to have with the Asda Essential cheapo Lemon Curd, but they’d got none of them in stock either.
I did get another block of the Flora Not-Butter butter because it was on Special.
Plenty of potatoes, though; I expected some of them not to be in stock, but they all came. Fooled me there!

And tons of canned peas and various other vegetables.
So it looks like veg soup and stews a week or so.
On to the computer.
Then hours of confusion with carers calling, and phone calls; I struggled to get CorelDraw 2017 reset again.
It’s still playing up now, very regularly.
Not the foggiest idea why. And it cost me another day, and still, it’s not right!

Around 13:00hrs, I heard the mobile tone ringing.
I found it at 18:10hrs when I trod on it on the floor. Humph! I went to check on who texting or calling, and it dropped from assisted by ailment number 9, 
It landed on the spot it had been hiding in…, but despite it being on the carpet, the back of the phone came off!
I spat, cursed and bent down to retrieve the pieces and then launched an attack as I stood upright.
I spat and cursed more vehemently this time. Took a painkiller… I smelt the day long taken to cook soup burning, and I hobbled hastily to the kitchen to turn of the heat and hope for the best…
Then realised I’d left the hot water tap running.

There are depressions and depressions of differing characteristics – I nearly went into each one!
Then spotted the clouds and sun out at last.
And had a few minutes of pareidolia joy.

The evening carer arrived and sorted the medications out for me. We had a laugh; she thought the NHS replies were great & humorous.

Close the annoying computer down and got the nosh sorted out.
Back hopefully in the morning

♫ I Made it through the night ♫

Wednesday morning (another farcical day dawned, I’ll put it in tomorrow’s blog, all the gory details). Back to tonight…

I prepared and dined on the vegetable (it-came-out-horrible) soup, with rolls and a mistaken thought it would be delicious plain yoghourt with a pot of orange jelly in it. The Carer arrived as I was tucking into it – no, that’s not the right word; tucking in suggests that someone was enjoying something.
And yet, I ate it all?

I blame the she-devil, who goes I’ve given yet another title, and she’s named . Even the jelly & yoghourt was tasteless. The Carer gave me a Covid Test yesterday, and it was clear. Taste rating: 2.5/10!

I did my best to stay awake to watch ‘New Tricks’ on the goggle-box. But it was a futile try; although the dreaded woke me up every few minutes, which is not unusual.

I had to get up to empty the day pouch of its contents and wash & disinfect the container.

Glad I did, now, cause the late sunset was just going down towards the horizon.

While taking these photos and viewing the scene on offer…
I went into one of the rare ‘Out-of-it’ spells.
They are hard to describe with any clarity. One suddenly feels as if you’ve gone out of your looking at yourself.
Impossible, I know that, but for the few minutes it lasted, I did believe I was doing just that. No sense, rhyme or reason as far as I could tell for these odd moments I get. Most of them occur when I’m looking out from the window. Can happen any time of day or night. I’ve had a few when I was out and about too? I tried to explain these to the Mental Nurse; her disinterest, or belief, it dispirited me somewhat, as I recall. I’ll not mention it next visit – if there is one with the strikes.

Back down into the £300, bought eight years ago from the second-hand shop, Harold Haemorrhoid testing, repugnantly beige-coloured, dour crumb-containing, virus-breeding, acne-giving, rickety, none-working recliner. I nodded off quickly for around about ten minutes. But the damned rotten crap kicked off straight away.

I took these few last photographicalisations of the day, of the darkening view and wonderful colourations from the dipping away sun.

Now the usually no0bother-at-all getting back to sleep was a bother! It took me ages to nod off this time. Yet the had all but disappeared?

All a part and parcel of the unaccountable mysteries, phantoms, and hauntings of Woodthorpe Court. (It never used to be like this, they tell me until I arrived!).

Now then, where did I leave the walking stick?