Drum roll … I'm finally updating my blog. Read on to discover why life sometimes intrudes and stops me doing things.
Greetings from a very snowy Lancashire. Here's a particularly naff picture.
The bird table is somewhere under there…
As I don't have a 'proper' job, you'd think I'd get lots of writing done, wouldn't you? Wrong. Take last Wednesday, for instance, when I had an appointment with the dentist and hygienist. It was horrid, truly horrid, and when I finally escaped it was with an appointment for an extraction. Aaargh! I raced back to my car, totally stressed out about that, and worried that, because I'd been much longer than anticipated, poor Dylan the Puppy would be frozen. I jumped in the car, saw that he was as snug as can be, slammed the car into reverse and - bang. As everyone was parked in neat rows, I knew I hadn't reversed into a car, thank God, but I had clipped a concrete pillar. (Yes, sheer stupidity comes into this.) I drove the nine miles home before getting out to see how much damage I'd done…
The next job was to drive to the car body repair business. "You need a new back light," he said, stating the obvious. "Try and get one from ebay or somewhere … it'll be a lot cheaper. And call back tomorrow when the boss is here and we'll see when we can fix it." Right.
Back home, I spent hours trying to find a rear driver's side light. Easier said than done…
While doing this, I made the mistake of taking my eye off Dylan the Puppy for ten seconds. I was alerted to this fact when he started coughing on a piece of wood that he'd stolen from the log basket. Would he be all right? Did I need to get him to a vet? I kept peering down his throat but couldn't see anything - mainly because it needed one person to hold his mouth open and another to shine a torch down his throat. I decided he needed a vet. I drove the five miles to our nearest vet - but not his vet - got him out of the car and he was as happy as can be. I walked him up and down the street for a while and it seemed he was fine. I drove him home, without venturing into the vet's surgery, and he immediately started coughing and swallowing repeatedly. Just as I was about to phone the emergency vet (local vets were closed for the day by this time), Nick arrived home from work. Together, we shone the torch down the puppy's throat and - eventually - found a piece of wood wedged across the roof of his mouth.
The day was done. Dylan the Puppy was leaping around like a, well, like a puppy, and I was in dire need of a very stiff drink. So I drank that while searching for a rear light…
The next day, I found a light which I was assured would arrive on Saturday morning. So I went back to the car body repair business and they're going to start work on the car tomorrow.
Then there was the day last week when I ventured to the local health centre to learn the results of a routine blood test - which were fine, as expected. The conversation went like this:
Me: "While I'm here … last September, I tore a tendon in my arm."
Doc: "Yes, I've just been looking at that. Is it better?"
Me: "No."
Doc: "Let's have a look."
Me: "Aargh! Oh, my, ****!"
When he'd released me from a wrestling hold similar to a half nelson, and when I'd mopped up the water from my eyes, he said, "You've got a frozen shoulder."
Really? I wish I'd never mentioned it…
Days like those make me wonder what's going to happen next. What about you? How are your days going?