Roast lamb dinner

In a reflection of how small my world has become since developing a chronic illness, the highlight of my day today was researching and buying a new living room rug.

I could tell you about the existing one, which needs replacing because it has developed a permanent ruck that makes it a trip hazard and about the only thing that makes mum swear.

I could tell you about how I found a really nice rug for a bargain price, then discovered that the company selling it made up for the low price by massively overcharging for delivery.

I could tell you that I also bought a rug for my bedroom, a cheap replacement for one that was lost along with my flat.

I could then tell you how that old rug was almost exactly the same colour as my cat’s fur, and that several times I panicked that I had lost her only to realise that my bedroom rug was blinking sleepily at me, bemused at my sudden panic.

I could mention, as a supplementary point, that my eyes have suddenly developed an odd wateriness that is not, in any way, a recurrence of the tearfulness that has been plaguing me for the past couple of days.

But that would all be very boring, so I will just tell you that mum is still unwell, having woken this morning in such considerable pain that I was considering calling 111¹, so tomorrow morning I will be on the phone to the GP surgery on the dot of 8.30am, as I hate seeing mum in pain almost as much as she hates being in pain.

For dinner tonight we had the roast dinner leftovers which our friend gifted to us yesterday. It was very nice – roast lamb, roast carrots, broccoli, mash, and potato wedges (double carbs is a very Isle of Wight thing) with gravy. Mum declared it “delicious” and scraped her plate clean, which only hurt my feelings because I’m feeling ridiculously over-sensitive atm.

So… yeah. That’s another day done with nothing much to report. Thank you for sticking with me through this dull patch: it will get more interesting soon, with the next week holding a visit from family to clear my late grandmother’s house before its new owners move in, two hospital appointments (one by telephone, one in person), potential contact with the local social prescriber, and hopefully the resolution of mum’s health problems. I suspect I will soon be longing for the boredom I am currently hating. 🤷‍♂️

1. The national non-emergency healthcare line, for those who don’t know it. ↩︎