Mediterranean veg, feta, piri piri chips
Last night, mum laid down to sleep. I sat around reading for a while, then also laid down. As usual, it took me a while to switch my brain off enough to sleep, but after a while I started to drift off.
At which point, mum woke up and called through my door to ask what she should be doing. I told her to go to sleep. She laid down, got up, and asked me again what she should be doing. I told her again to go to sleep. She went to the loo, laid down, got up, asked me what she should be doing. I begged her to please go to sleep.
She finally did, until 3am when she woke me up to tell me she wanted to go back to bed. I told her she could do exactly that, but she wanted me to confirm there was no-one at the front door, then tell her over and over that she should sleep until it got light.
Just before 6am we did the whole thing again. And again just before 8am.
Then at quarter to nine my phone rang.
Unsurprisingly, I have spent the rest of today feeling absolutely wiped out. Mum, of course, remembered nothing of her disturbed night, and indeed flatly told me that it hadn’t happened.
So I guess I imagined the whole thing. 🤷♂️
The biggest news of the rest of the day is that my application for the flat with the river view has been rejected, because I don’t have an income. I guess I can see their point, but I can’t deny I’m very disappointed.
Tomorrow I am going to call the council housing department, while mum is occupied by the carer, to ask if they have a guaranteed rent scheme, which takes on the role of a guarantor.
(A guarantor, if you don’t know, is someone who legally takes responsibility for paying the rent if the tenant defaults for any reason, giving landlords the reassurance needed to take on a less than financially ideal tenant. (Like me.) Usually a guarantor is a family member or close friend, but I don’t have anyone suitable.)
Having this security might – not definitely, but might – help me persuade a landlord to take a chance on letting me live in their property. 🤷♂️
Dinner was another “throw it on a baking tray” meal. I only used half the packet of piri piri seasoning, which was about right for mum to eat the chips without complaining. (Or at least without complaining about the food being too spicy. She still complained about lots of other things, as usual.)
Now I just need to get through the rest of the evening, and hope that mum lets me sleep tonight. She has promised to try, but who knows if she’ll actually do it? 🤷♂️
