Post 377: I do want to get out of bed, but not today.
The chicken or the egg?
Am I in pain because I’m still in bed, or is the pain keeping me in bed?
I started to read something new and online, which I will return to later and finish, but I read enough to know the speaker being interviewed was right.
I’m certainly not a fan of politics but, looking back at my era of being able to vote (1982 onwards), I’ve realised I can only count a handful of statesmen in those 44 years, which means there’s never been many hard-working politicians who are there for the long haul and treasure their time in such a worthwhile institution.
Well I never—I didn’t expect to ever say that.
How remarkable that, given time to think, you can achieve something you probably didn’t think was in you.
Speaking up is always hard.
Talking of which—speaking up—isn’t that what the forum’s all about?
The word forum is Latin (a cold shiver just went down my back due to the 1st year Latin I was subjected to at school).
A place of discussion in a Roman town, basically.
I would have liked to have lived in days where a forum in a massive town could be the source of not only intellect but future thinking.
One of the problems I see in the following generations is that future thinking is too expensive to consider.
The problem with that is that without direction into the future we really are rudderless and at the mercy of undercurrents we can’t see but are stronger than we can cope with.
We are not the owners of our own future.
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Enough of that old twaddle. I’ve been in bed all day and I can’t decide whether my back pain is the cause or effect.
I haven’t taken any more morphine—I feel sleepy enough—and if it’s caused by the drugs (my sleepiness), I don’t want any more thanks.
It could be all to do with my chocolate intake, but I’d like to think the dark chocolate I am predisposed to and given to eat is very, very good for me.
But on the other hand it could be that I’ve just got pain. More pain. Pain that I should perhaps take more seriously.
Can the waxing of the car earlier this week be the cause of chest aches that make exercising the shoulder (that needs exercise) difficult and painful?
I propose that whatever the cause of the aches, I’m not going to make it better by being up and about doing things that may explain why I’m in pain in the first place.
So I’ll stay in bed and rest.
Should I volunteer the pains to my points of contact for them to decide the importance of my situation?
My arms are ok, I’m eating well (especially chocolate), I’m weeing well—I’m ok. It’s only a few aches.
The ribs are where it all is. The ribs that are pretty fragile and they get a bit battered over time. They ought to be a problem—they do so much and are in the front line. The chest is where it all happens, other than the head obviously. It’s ok to have little pains.
Let that be an end to it. I’m going around in circles here and that’s not helping. If it gets worse I’ll speak (write) to my specialist nurse.
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To be honest, I had to watch the whole three episodes of a K-drama I’d been sleepily watching because I hadn’t really understood the plot’s finer details, so I did watch the three hours over again.
It was brilliant. I got the nuanced storylines. I’m happy now.
While my Darling visited me three times today with food, we’ve been in touch by text regularly.
Ha, ha—I know, doesn’t that seem wrong? It’s a modern thing but today it worked well because we both needed space for our guilty pleasures we have alone on the TV. It’s healthy, sort of.
She was catching up with a pile of things she needed to make time for, like myself.
I include thoughts about dressing up for forthcoming weddings.
A couple of weeks ago my nephew took his dad out for a fitting for a suit at Moss Bros, and why ever not.
The whole idea seems fair and, for a change, something uplifting (apart from the cost).
So I’ve been thinking I need one too, and before you put your hands on your hips and do that voice of questionable desperation, I should clarify that my body shape has changed over time. So while my Darling is the arbiter of fashion always, I’m putting my foot down here—and with the ease that texts and emails give us, the booking for Thursday next week at 11:30 will be a bit of fun.
Moss Bros here I come.
I couldn’t get into my three-piece suit for our pals quietest wedding ever in late January. My lovely vest/waistcoat wouldn’t button up.
I’m too fat for it, I hate to say, but if that means a new suit then great—bring it on.
I’m the godfather after all, I need to look the part. Ha, ha.
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Going back to earlier in the week and the second chat with my thingamy—thank you, my Darling—my Celebrant.
Why can I not recall that word (Celebrant) every time I want to use it? Why?
But anyhow, I’m so pleased I’m getting to chat to the lovely lady who will be summing me up.
I think by the time it’s needed she will have a great picture of what my life was all about, but even more, these interviews are a moment for me to recall things that made me, me.
I enjoy it.
It was something I wanted to do particularly because of some funerals I’ve been to, I’ve wondered who the celebrant was talking about.
I don’t want that. I want everyone to be comfortable on the day, and have a great day.
I’m happy that it’s going so well.
My Darling seems relaxed in her company too and that’s so very important to me. This whole exercise is for my Darling, I won’t be able to hold her hand, but the eulogy will.
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Please stop me now.
My fingers are needing a rest and I need a trip to the toilet, so I’ll leave it here.
Big Sis comes tomorrow/today and that should be fun.
My Darling will be up the café as usual with her pals, so she’ll be happy that I’ve got company.
She still worries too much.
And last but not least, “pinch punch the first of the month”.
Good morning
Have a fab day
