Post 268: Emotions and aches.
A lazy Sunday afternoon didn’t recharge my batteries at all.
The temperature was close to zero and my Darling left without a kiss because I was fast asleep when she left. At 4am she lets sleeping dogs lie.
She came back home very tired and, as usual, went to bed for a few hours before an evening dinner.
For me, I rose early — well, early for me — at 9:30am to feed the cold cat in the frozen garage. Not like yesterday’s late performance I was on time today.
I had woken up with the intention of getting a little job done that should have been done before the 6th of January. Now we’ve got bad luck if the Christmas rules about clearing away decorations are true. I don’t worry too much about the bad luck — I’ve got enough anyway, so a bit more is not going to matter too much.
The job would be done after slurping my cereal bowl of plenty. I couldn’t decide what to have, so I had a handful of everything. It was yummy and set me up for a good day, I presumed. Slurp slurp!
The little job I had planned after the Christmas Day back flip had ruined my chair standing abilities. I still can’t believe I fell, and escaped any harm. Obviously my luck was running high that day.
Anyway, the job. The Christmas cards were still hanging up on the strings around the ceiling of the long hall — doesn’t that sound impressive. It makes it sound like we have many halls in our house, which we haven’t; it’s the only one.
As I am not allowed to get up on a chair, obviously, I figured another way of extricating those pretty greetings cards off their strings.
I have a metre-long “grabber”, or that’s what I’d call it. There’s a hand grip and lever at one end and a claw at the other end, and it’s an old thing I’ve inherited and thought I’d never use it — but use it I certainly do just now. Reaching up and grabbing the cards was a doddle, and before long the colour had vanished from the height of the hall and the normal gloom returned.
Job done — and no falls or injuries sustained. I can now sit and while away my day, as per usual, in my safety lounge seat where my life trundles by.
The only problem was that I suddenly felt hungry and had a craving for toast and marmalade. Oh yes. No sooner had I thought it than I had toasted the bread and crunched and gulped down elevenses. The sweet–sharp filling combination is my favourite, with Marmite coming in a close second.
I returned to the lounge chair where the toast was eaten and my thoughts were on yesterday and our four-legged friend, Byron.
Looking back, he was a good hound, and with very little history with us or the house he was settling easily. He has such long legs and a curiosity as long as his nose, which was into everything. We kept him away from our killer cat Stormy, but there will be a day, I’m sure, when they can be friends. Well, I hope so. Mr Vicious is getting older and more grumpy, but I’m sure they’ll get along.
Byron’s legs are as long as could be, in keeping with his lurcher genes, and it’s so funny to see him stretch and squeeze on the couch where his own blanket was laid. All legs, snout and tail, he looked so contented for a long while after his dinner. He was relaxed by now, and that relaxed us too.
We look forward to seeing him again — can you tell?
I wanted to be proactive about asking my Big Sis how she is rather than wasting away my time glued to the TV, so I put it on pause and got busy with a text. My Big Sis is so attentive to me, so this was a rare opportunity for me to repay the compliment and care. She had a flu like cold for days and needs a little tlc.
I had just got to the end of the “wish you were well” greetings and Byron update text — because she was due to pop down with bro-in-law yesterday too— when I burst into tears. I could not stop or believe it. I was howling, but I didn’t know why.
Just as I sent that text to Big Sis, little Bro called. The screen was all smudged with drops of tears and his name was wiggling about with the uncontrollable upset — but that didn’t stop me from answering on the dry end. I really wanted to speak to him; I wanted the phone-love from a brother’s call.
I’m now tearing up writing this and still don’t know exactly why. I swiped the wet phone screen and squeaked an unrecognisable hello, and my Bro knew. He waited and laughed and waited some more. We got chatting after a bit and I found out he was on a rugby playing field in Horsham, where his daughter was about to play an away game in the freezing temperatures, even though it was nearly midday and the warmest part of the day.
After a good old chat and catch-up I had revived back into a normal person, and Bro, being his usual hilarious self, cheered me up. Our goodbye was brief and I was very glad he called. I don’t know the score — I didn’t check. My bad.
The TV seat was its uncomfortable self as usual after a square-eyed marathon, but I noticed that I was aching everywhere when I got up. Each time it was the same, but I had no reason to be aching or tired.
What’s up with me. Five months since the last chemo, nothing but painkillers as treatment, no exercise lately — so why the tiredness and aches? Maybe I am losing it, my strength and drive. The winter takes its toll on everybody, so I’ll put it down to a lack of sunshine and the happy thoughts that come with the happy rays of sunshine.
This week I should hear from the DWP about the possible less form-filling necessary on the ESA and PIP benefits. I’m not at all excited about this possibility of benefits, but I won’t say no, obviously. My savings won’t last forever.
My Darling has been low lately and that’s a slight worry, but she asked the doctors at work for advice and was instantly prescribed steroids. I think the winter, the SR1, the look of me all are taking a lot out of her.
I wish it wasn’t so but it’s me to blame for most of my Darlings ailments.
I’m a real nuisance and no mistake.
So have a happy day.
Good night.
PS
The dancing fingers are calming down a touch but I don’t know why.
Mr U
