Bacon, egg, and chips

Mum has had a bad day today. I’m not convinced she has actually felt worse, but she’s been feeling worse about how she’s feeling (if you see what I mean), so it’s been a day of complaints and me repeating explanations that mum doesn’t listen to, or listens to but vocally disagrees with.

One result of her general malaise has been mum following me around the house like a lost puppy. At one point, she wandered into my bedroom and told me she’d missed me: we were sitting in neighbouring rooms and talking, but she wanted me right by her side.

So that’s where I sat while I called the pharmacy to ask if they would be delivering mum’s new painkillers today. The person who took the call asked the pharmacist without putting me on hold, and I don’t think I was supposed to hear the somewhat testy response “I don’t even know why she’s asking. Friday, maybe?” (The pharmacist also does deliveries, on his way home after work in the evening, so I can forgive his weary irritability.)

The only friend I can ask to pick up the prescription has her grandchildren with her this week, but she’s promised to try and do it if she can tomorrow, which is very kind of her.

Then we waited for a local roofer to turn up to give us a quote on our leaky conservatory roof. However, appropriately for the time of year, he ghosted us for the second day in a row, neither showing up nor letting me know that he wouldn’t be showing up. (Yesterday he responded to my “where are you?” email, but today he didn’t even do that.)

I guess I’ll have to find another company to ask for a quote, and hope this one actually shows up.

By dinnertime I was all out of enthusiasm and energy, so dinner was bacon, chips, and a fried egg for me. I didn’t take a photo, so you’ll have to just imagine the plate of hot, crispy bacon, golden chips, and a perfect fried egg, with no smoke alarm beeping irritably in the background.

That’s exactly what it was like, honest.