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There’s a lot that life has been launching at me lately.
Medically, financially, and socially, guilt, & self-hatred, which is undoubtedly one of the worst, along with the unwarranted depression and hatred of my ailments. But the Master-Pisser-Offerer, without question, is:
My recently acquired inability to absorb facts, figures, numbers, dates, and names and my chronically-bad memory are worsened by oligarchs & the company they bought and destroyed; for some obviously underhand ulterior motive, ‘s constant, every day several times going offline, is the killer! I already struggle to see what I’m doing and writing with, , and , naturally &
Don’t help me either. I’ve got to get this out of my system, even if s, Mr Fries, the $26 million salaried boss, sues me. I’ve not got enough money to live on, so it will mean prison for me… which could mean me getting the medical attention I need quicker? No ridiculously increased heating and lighting bills, cost of food price rises, rent going up, insurance going up… He might be doing me a favour by suing me for telling what I believe to be the truth.
I really love doing this rubbish of a blog. But it’s getting harder and harder. Losing work on it diurnally, when Liberty-Global repeatedly, fail to maintain even an imitation of the good service.
I’ve only just started writing this Thursday’s blog at 15:00hrs on Friday. And as for getting Fridays done… well…
(I’ve been out to see the Bank Manager! I know!) Carer Kara went with me and took control, bless her cotton socks. A treasure she is, I’d be lost without her help. (She’s still not keen on adopting me as a grandfather, though… I don’t blame her! Hehehe!)
I’ll tell you about it in the next blog. I hope.
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Just look at this above… One High Norm, and three Hyper One Lows. Considering my life is a mess at the moment, I’m well pleased with these returns!
The attached night pouch was darker than of late. But only just inside the ‘Drink More Fluid’ area of the NHS scorecard by a little.
The regulation need of the arose, so off to the wet room, using two sticks this time. I’m a smidge worried in case the left leg collapses again. But it didn’t… had I just taken , or mayhap alone, I can’t help but feel the leg would have gone on me again. Hehehe!
My heart warmed when I got inside the wet room, and noticed I’d scrubbed of the “Do Not Flush” I’d written on W.C. the water tank. Tickled pink at knowing the tank would refill without me having to lug all the water from the kitchen to get it refilled. Thanks to Deana for ringing the maintenance for me about it.
The right leg where I dropped the soda bottle on my ankle and toe, was still tender, but not as bad as I thought it might be.
(It got a lot worse with doing all the walking on Friday, to get to the bank, and sort it out tomorrow!)The red marks under both arms had returned, but I had some of the ointment left that I used up. The usual procedure of was performed, without any further .
Another Blue-Hue to the morning’s view!
Tea & bikkies time, then got the computer going…
Please do not let Mr Fries, from know about this, cause I know he’ll be worried sick about the company he spent s $23 billion to buy, not working, and will feel so depressed and ashamed. Huh!
Money-Mad Twerp! (Jealousy, methinks? Hahaha!)
Yes, it’s only my jealousy, you know! Haha!
I lost couldn’t of the time it went down. Certainly the most by far from in any one day. They outshone their own usual incapabilities today.
I knuckled down to the regular pattern for hours and hours then.
❶ Starting with creating some artwork or blog input…
❷ Going down...
❸ Washing pots, eye drops in, Medicationalisations, second eye drops in, going to get another bottle of spring water, taking photos of the sky from the kitchen window, in any order…
❹ – coming back on…
❺ Trying to remember where I was and what I’d done – to enable me to redo the world lost because it couldn’t be saved due to – going down. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat, Repeat! Repeat, Repeat!…
Here are the sky photographs from the day
I was so frustrated, more than s Fries will ever be. But of course, nothing must come between the oligarch’s desperate addiction to profit, even if only on paper.
Carer Chris arrived for the next to last call of the day. I was sat in the £300, second-hand, musty, Haemorrhoid Harold Testing, cringingly beige, crumb-covered, not-working, rickety recliner, where I’d fallen asleep. Through mental fatigue, frustration, and fighting off my hatred for the uninterested . Until rang out, and Chris entered.
He was kind enough to tend to me without my getting up from the £300, second-hand, c1968, charity shop-bought, eyesore-horrendously grungy coloured, Harold Haemorrhoid-testing, easily-fallout-able from, unfit-for-use, not working, recliner.
He did the eye drops first, then the medications, and then the second drops. Kind of him; I think he understood how done-in I was.
I reckon I nodding-off again within seconds of the lad leaving.
Into a marvellous dream that I did not want to leave.
It made me want to cry on my sleeve…
Nothing happened to make me sad or grieve…
Suzanne my first love, came into view…
I shan’t say what we got up to!
The door chimes chimed out. It was Carer Chris on the last call of the day. Again, the lad let me stay in the recliner while medicating and eye-dropping me.
Getting back to sleep was not so easy this time. The concerns about the visit to the bank in the morning, and getting things ready, harrassed my tormented mind.
The bliss of sleep was just about to return. The eyelids were drooping, the mind going blank. Then I suddenly realised I’d not had a meal! So I got up and made one, a feast really!
Followed by some wonderful vegan ice cream!
Evening all… Have a good day!