Incapable Inchy: Thursday 14th March 2024

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I’m thinking of writing a blog about “How to Get Nothing Done, but find it needs amending or correcting, then run out of time doing it!” Yes, I reached a new low or high today in brain-befuddledness. Overlooking the obvious, missing the intentions or inclinations of my own tormented mind. I’ve never been so busy getting nothing done… well, done satisfactorily, or to a semi-acceptably state, competently, effectively. But conditionally. 
My senses and intentions are in remission.

02:30hrs: Better shade.

High morning sky.
Lower down.
Wonky, wobbly view.

First…

AARGH! .
I’ve done it again!
I left the Dang tap (faucet) running last night. There is no hot water for a shower or shave. Spit and grumps!

I put the kettle on and had to return to the Throne!
It gets better! Hehe!

Made a brew of Glengettie. Of course, I started writing a blog post and forgot all about tea. Huh!

A third visit to the bog!
Where’s it coming from?

Carer Chris (took the laundry down) and then Carer Kara called. Both were in a rush, up to the neck in it, methinks. Kara looked at the whiteboard and checked the Catheter for me.

MIND BLANK or SEIZURE
A whopper, too!
When I came around, it was obvious that I had been working on the computer. To my amazement, I’d posted the Wednesday Post off; I hope I finished it first. The scribbled notes I’d scrawled meant nothing to me. I was aware of things because I went to check the cooker and taps. The taps were off, the kettle was cold, and no hobs or ovens were left on. At this moment, I looked out at the view from the balcony window.

My eyesight was worse than ever at long distances today. Every house seemed to have two roofs, and they were both moving independently of each other, according to my Glaucoma’s eyes, anyway.

The day bag dropped down the leg, so I must have been drinking well enough while half out of it?

I did notice the nibble box had been well-raided. Haha!.
Well, that’s what it’s there for.

I realised I’d not sent the blog email notification, so I did.
For an unknown reason, Googlemail would not let me import any pictures (and still didn’t on Friday?). Luckily, they went in when I copied and pasted, which made the job messy and protracted.

Can you believe this?.
And was bleeding.
I seemed and cleaned things up. After being up so early, when I returned to the computer, I decided not to continue. Then I realised that the evening carer, Chris, must have been. Could I recall it? Nope! I checked the log book, and he had been.

Despite having been up for about 21 hours, and there must be chunks of the day went off into the ether, I didn’t feel too tired, physically; then again, I’ve not nowt physical, have I?

Time to get summat to eat.
Garden peas, potato cakes and caramelised little pork sausages. These were eaten with bits of the baguette wrapped around each one and dipped in the new Heinz tomato ketchup with pickle!

Got the bed ready to receive the mini-elephantine body and decided to have a bag of chip sticks to round off the meal. I checked the taps and heating and got down in the itch-creating, bruise-giving, catheter-tube-tugging, crumb-decorated from my nocturnal nibbling, God-awfully uncomfortable, cringingly-grotty, no longer working, dirty beige, anti-sleep designed, c1966, second-hand bought for £300, ten years ago from the charity shop, recliner, to eat the treats.
Zzz!

Throughout the next three hours, I did not move from the recliner; I just spent the time getting oh-so-regular. I gave up and got up at 04:00 hrs. I decided to finish the stand-up ablutions. It was far too early to use the shower, and the noise would wake up the tenants living below. I’m coughing and sneezing a bit now. Tsk!

Cheers!