Sad pre grocery delivery dinner

Thanks to everyone who responded to my request for information on the problem of my blog diverting to a spam website. I had an interesting time chatting to WordPress’s chatbot, including a period spent waiting for a member of the tech team to join the chat, only for the chatbot to admit, after some questioning, that no-one was coming to help and that it had “misinformed” me.

Just as I was giving up – I never want to see the phrase “help is on the way!” again – I got through to an actual human, and a helpful one at that. Unfortunately (or maybe not) he couldn’t replicate the problem, and asked for more information on people who had experienced the problem. He may regret that, as I love a good bit of data and am genuinely looking forward to producing a form to capture said data. [Rubs hands together in quiet glee.]

That done, I settled in to wait for a call from the GP, having requested a telephone consultation as my feet and legs are so swollen they resemble balloons with toes.

The GP wanted to see me tomorrow but I have no way of getting there at short notice (I miss having a car and being able to go anywhere at any time), so instead will see him at his next available appointment slot, next Monday.

I also had a phone meeting today with a representative of the DWP / Job Centre. Although I am genuinely chronically ill and disabled, part of me is still expecting to be told that I’m not that ill, and to stop slacking and get back to work. Of course, what she actually said was that I don’t seem to be in a condition to even consider working just yet, so things will carry on as they are for now.

Dinner was the sort of meal you have when groceries are being delivered the next day and you have to have whatever’s in the freezer: veggie burgers, the last chips in the bag, a bit of microwaved frozen sweetcorn, and ketchup to make the meal less monochrome. After taking the photo I added a handful of cherry tomatoes for the same reason.

And so to bed, early because I’ve got to be up at stupid o’clock tomorrow to accompany mum to an 8.30am hospital appointment. The only saving grace is the possibility of getting my hands on a Graces Bakery chicken mayo sandwich from the hospital shop. Hold me in your thoughts on my quest, please.