Ow. Ow ow ow, my baaaaaaaaack! My lower back, my upper back, my neck, my knee, my ducats, my back!
(I couldnโt help throwing in a little Shylock there.)
Mum lurched against the old microwave thatโs waiting to go downstairs in preparation for hard rubbish collection. That lurch caused her leg to be wounded. Itโs horrible seeing how fragile is her skin. Blood blood blood, hands washed thoroughly, Dettol, cleaning, disinfecting again and again, blood-saturated wads of cotton rounds, careful application of ultra sensitive wound dressingโฆ Sheโs okay.
Cleaning up the blood from the floorโฆ
Appointment - and ha, the garage door had a fit. It wouldnโt close. Repeated hurried attempts to fixโฆ finally found small tool has lodged itself in the way. A good 25 minutes to sort things out, but in the meantime I must have knocked over an empty glass jar and sent it catapulting down the driveway as I found great shards on the downward slope.
Work done. I only have some more paperwork to do.
Repeated bending and letting myself become cross at the universe all combinedโฆ and everything is in pain. There. Iโve said it and now I will find the humour in it. Slapstick, wry deadpan humour, grim farceโฆ but at least the lasagne will be ready in a few minutes and Iโve taken some Panadol. Lasagne is a reason to grin.
