
I might say that life is an enigma,
With complications over which to ponder,
I try to understand, to be an analyser,
Will I ever be a true comprehendor?
I’m not a very good fact grasper,
My desire to know grows achier,
I make notes in my adversaria…
Hard to read them with my glaucoma,
HMG gets more and more austerer,
Will life ever again get boshter?
Starmer, the great circumventor…
Fibber, fabulist and fabricator,
A decent con man and storyteller,
His promises get ever zigzaggier,
He may prattle, babble or yatter…
Of things that don’t really matter,
To the ordinary shat-on voter,
A Labour core value nonbeliever,
A degenerate, a political gangster,
Moral derelict, deceptive fact-dodger,
A political delinquent, a dispiriter,
He’s double-crossing, a double-dealer,
Fabricator, killer and demoraliser,
He’s corrupt, immoral, & diabolic!
Rosey cheeks from his dipsomania?.
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Depression Duncan and High-Mode-Horis shared the day again, visiting me so often, but neither had the upper hand. I lied. Duncan has just returned after a decent time with Horis, which gives Duncan the upper hand. I just can’t concentrate. At least they took a while, as they did yesterday, before toying with my mind. So I got a few photos and graphicalisations done to go on before I turned into a… never mind.
The mistakes made today outnumbered yesterday, maybe two to one. But one of the Accifaupa’s had a distinct bit of humour attached to it. It’s about the only spot of fun all day. I was on a downer for the three Carer calls. But they went well, particularly on the first call. Which was well after the humourous incident of the day. I’m delaying telling you so I can make myself look a tad not so daft.
I’ll start as usual by waking up and somehow freeing myself, oh, so reluctantly, from the bed’s clutches.
I forced myself to move my legs to get off of the bed.
While emptying the catheter night pouch, I decided to get a shower, shave, and medicate where I could reach. I checked the kitchen in case I’d left something on or running and took a scarce photograph. In my wandering mind, only a precious few made it to the blog. I think I took several view photos later from different angles, only to find I’d left
It took ages for the sun to break through, well into the afternoon.
The first job before getting things ready for the task at hand was to remove the catheter muslin bag. I joke not; it took me half an hour, a lot of pain, loss of blood from Little Inchies Fungal Lesion, and the use of some, erm… shall I say, colourful cursing and swearing to get it off undamaged. I’ll ask the Carer later to put it back on for me.
This warped, mangled body, mind, and innards were fooled again. The anticipated near-liquid flushing did not happen. Trotsky Terence wasn’t in the running.
After several failed, painful efforts to encourage the movement, I sat back with the crossword book and had a go at it. I’d not been doing well over the last few days on that puzzle, yet I got about ten clues answered!
Conrad releases his hold, and a little wind and a pong permeated out, followed by three massive torpedoes! One after the other. Glad they escaped!
I cleaned my teeth and might have gone into a seizure. I remember the toothbrush hitting something and bouncing down; I heard it fall, and then that was it for a few minutes. I came back and found that I was sitting on the WC again. I felt confused, but there was no pain, accifauxpas, or injuries. Great!
I got the shaving sorted out with almost ease this morning. No droppages, and just one tiny little nick.
Oh, I did enjoy it. Cartilages Carole and Chloe were good to me; even Anne Gyna left me alone. (The funny bit is coming soon.)
I did have a bit of a wobble as I got the shower curtain closed. So I plopped my bottom on the shower chair, but the water was on hot and full power, and as the fluid fell on me, I was liberal with the carbolic soap wherever I could reach while sitting down. I left the water showering over me and really enjoyed it!
As usual, I reached for the grab bar from the chair to get up. The Cartilaged gals were again not pleased with being used, letting me know in their typical fashion, pain and threatening to give way. I got both hands on the grab bar just in case and hauled myself up onto my feet. That’s when it
It was my toothbrush!
I got on with the
It took a while, but then, as I was told to, I dried off the catheter day bag with kitchen towels.
In the red microwave bowl in the fridge, I made a mixture of Vegetable soup, pickled mushrooms, water chestnuts, garden peas, and some potatoes. I stored it for later use.
Oh, and Korean BBQ sauce with peppers, etc.
Really out of it now, for a long time.
I had recovered a smidge and was back on the blog when Carer Manpreet arrived. I had not seen her before, but that might be wrong. She’s a nice gal.
I added some things to tomorrow’s Iceland order. They emailed me to let me know.
I heated the food and got Milk Roll sliced bread that Jenny had given me. Bless her cotton socks.
And tucked in while watching Heartbeat on channel ITV3. Lovely!
Another messy day.
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Cheerioski!
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The lying seems to have become normalised and more obvious with Blair, Bush Jnr, Howard and Sharon.
There’s a political plague of lies, methinks Paul. The true frustration is I can do nothing about it. I suppose we could stand at the next election… but who for? Hahaha!
Well, you made it through another day, Gerry, in spite of your problems.
Ah, bless you, Sir.
I hope you are coping well?
TTFNski, sweet dreams. 🙏🏼👌🏼