Post 358: Tired, like I ran a marathon, which I certainly have not.
Today was a washout but, luckily, I had nothing but rest to occupy myself with — though, even that was hard work.
When I woke, I didn’t notice it. Neither did I when I walked carefully down the stairs (unaided) and did my first and only chore: feeding Mr Vicious.
The weather was light cloud and breezy again, a bit like yesterday, only slightly better. I left the kitchen door open, which allows Mr V to come into the house as far as the hallway and probably sleep off his breakfast on a kitchen chair — the one with the mock sheepskin top and gel below. It’s really for the wheelchair, but he uses it as his own particular happy place.
I left him there all day. I think he was feeling like me — tired.
I had my colourless granola for breakfast, washed up the dish and left it to drain, then went into the lounge, leaving Mr V sleeping.
I didn’t put the TV on immediately, but I did notice how warm it was. The little mobile oil heater was on top form and I couldn’t complain — I love the warmth. Thank you, little heater.
I answered a few texts and one email from my old mate who wants to hook up, after which I flicked the TV on.
The space programmes following the progress of Artemis II were tailing off, but that wasn’t what I was inclined to watch anyway.
I suppose I started to feel tired almost immediately, but it was a few minutes later I found myself waking with a snap of my neck and its associated pain. Then again. And again.
Snap, pain, snooze, repeat. I was not enjoy this, I should be in bed not in the chair.
I’d now rewound the programme a few times and was losing the plot — quite literally. So I put on something I wasn’t too bothered about and shuffled my bum forward, and with my head resting on the back of the chair…
Zonk.
About an hour later it was one o’clock and, although I didn’t feel hungry, I struggled up out of the chair and stood there waiting for all the parts of my body to wake up and engage.
I took a few tentative steps towards the kitchen where the cat was still asleep on the gel chair pad, close to the fridge that probably had something I could eat.
I couldn’t be bothered with a big or small sandwich or a salad, so I plumped for a Müller Corner (other yoghurts are available) and sat back down.
My Darling came in around 2:30 with bags of food and headed to the kitchen after saying hi. I gave her a cuddle and told her the sum total of my morning’s activities — which was a resounding nothing at all.
I didn’t even eat any Easter eggs that are still everywhere. Big ones, small ones — some as big as your head (who knows where that’s from?).
After unpacking and settling on the sofa, I continued much the same as the morning — only this time I was holding my Darling’s hand, which made all the difference.
Yes dear, I should have gone to bed earlier. And yes, my Darling, I should go to bed now — but I didn’t. I’d rather snooze holding her hand.
Dinner (one of those ping varieties) came and went, and I carried on in much the same way.
We both went to bed early, said our goodnights and had our cuddles, then split off into our bedrooms. And that was it.
I don’t know why I was so tired today. It worries me a bit.
I’ll admit to having pains brewing in my ribs and back, but they’ve probably been there all along.
I did pin down a date to see my old mate — this coming Saturday morning — so I did do something.
Oh yes, and I found out (as did all the old fellers in the WhatsApp group) that the youngest member — who’s just 50 — has a seriously bad back and has had to give up his work as a very good DIY man. He’s now looking for a job with no lifting. Poor sod.
I privately texted him to see if I could do anything to help, but he said no. He’s such a great pal. It’s hard to see someone suffer.
I’m sorry to end on a sour note, but let’s hope he finds something soon.
Good night.
Take care.
