Post 521: Printing 9th folder up to blog 450.
It’s not been fun but as the busses become fewer and the issues which are more chronic are repeatedly reported I find that it’s still a wonderful refuge.
This place has become my space and like it or loathe it here it is, warts and all. It’s only when I’ve been printing out this huge blog and doing the reverse digitisation is filling my days and giving me strength. I hope in some way you can see through the darkness to the light at the other end; I’ll see you there.
My appetite is still big and to be honest it’s not like I need the calories. I’m just a glutton lately. I am on the half a steroid tab a day still which is for the back pain but obviously it not enough which is why I have to suck up some more the oramoph, and heed and return to life.
It’s very easy to say the positive things but the prostate & lymphoma tattoo is a constant reminder of better days.
“We will win” is not a test, it is something to aim for.
We all walk together.
Mr Vicious didn’t want to help me with the printing today. He’s a funny cat most of the time and helps us, when he’s inside. Today he just wants to sunbathe in the conservatory until that is, the Foot Soldier arrived. Ha ha.
That’s because Henry arrived unexpectedly in the morning surprising both the cat and I.
The printing had hit the rocks with another black cartridge that had lost its ink to the pages I’d been ripping through. There was a call on my mobile which was hidden under a mountain of paper so it wasn’t found easily but as it was Henry held on the line.
He asked how I was and in his syrupy South African accent it’s sometimes hard to understand what he’s said especially if we are laughing a something as usual.
He said is now ok for him to come over, I said yes and before I could stand up and extricate myself from the paper and files of stuff, the door rang and either a neighbor was generously giving me some veg from his garden or Henry was standing outside ready to start on my feet.
It was the latter and I was not ready. There was last nights dinner plates on the sink and pans strewn across the counter top I hadn’t washed up yet. Oops! And I didn’t have the package of tools nor towels for his chiropody on me. I would have ran down stairs if I could but instead called out several times the I was indeed coming.
I had chosen today to make Henry’s life easier bringing down from my crowded office with all its confusion of paperwork right now, an adjustable floor lamp that might help him see my toes better. It’s not dark in the kitchen where I usually sit to be chiropractored.
Anyway, that’s what I thought, so I manfully struggled down the stairs with the lamp and a bowl to fill with tepid water for my feet to bathe and all that would have been enough for my Darling to go ballistic over because of the danger to my back with the weight of it all or just the trip hazard going downstairs with it all in a hurry. Omg! How stupid am I. Oh crikey, what would have happened if I fell…
With everything at the bottom of the stairs I opened to door and Henry who saw my stupidity and helped me to the kitchen where after the apology for the mess in the sink, he helped himself, filling the bowl, and in his jovial relaxing manor he made light of everything (pun not intended).
In fact the hour or so he was administering to my feet went by in a flash and the lamp was a godsend for him to pose in the right place for his best views of my stinky toes.
We chatted away about the usual sport and history of the local and far downland towns and parks and he left me soon enough with the washing up after another enjoyable foot doctoring.
I can’t reach my toes and he can and that’s why he comes along and sorts out my now beautiful tootsies. It’s a really good deal and I’d be unable to cut my toenails any other way. Hoorah for traveling chiropodists.
Before I tackled the kitchen sink and the pile of washing up I had to restart my printing, after replacing another cartridge and all. So I trudged upstairs with my new toes leading the way and sorted one mess out. Soon the 9th folder was full and I tidied up and went back down to make some lunch after draining the sink of the piles of dirty clutter.
When done I saw it was nearly one o’clock and I was starving for a sandwich spread roll and some fruit. The vinegar and pepper flavours of the terrible childhood sandwich spread is a guilty pleasure and takes me back to school packed lunches mum used to make, and trips to London museums for “education”, or as most of the boys thought, a big runaround in a big playground.
So the other problem was my back. I’d done no good to it by lifting the heavy 1060’s brass pose-able lamp downstairs and sitting for a couple of hours again printing 50 blogs (200 pages) in the library chair I’m usually comfortable in, but not today.
I took some Oramorph with the roll and grapes and struggled with the washing up afterwards.
I was so glad of a rest I spent the afternoon in the chair watching tv while my Darling slept on after coming home knackered from work.
The only last chore was to peel the veg for our fish supper and I was done. Proper done.
It was a very successful day if a little painful. But I survived.
The salmon supper was lovely and a large blush orange for pudding a tasty treat.
I hope your Sunday dinners were as good.
Take care, I’m resting all day today.
PS
The Tattoo situation was just about not being there when I booked it. It was not a big problem but I’ve learned my lesson.
We have over the years never unilaterally decided on anything (unless you count the piles of baby stuff arriving everyday unbeknownst to me).
So we are back on an even keel at home now. Xx
