Full Time Care

Anyone else remember that episode of ST:TOS (that’s Star Trek: The Original Series for the less geeky among you) where Spock mind-melds with a rock monster, the Horta? He puts his hands on it and starts shouting “Paiiiiiiiiiin”. Well, that’s how I feel today!

We have our landlord visit tomorrow. Every six months, the agency sends someone round just to check that we’re not knocking holes in the walls, making virgin sacrifices in the shoe cupboard and generally keeping the place in order. So for the last four days, I’ve been doing housework - and it’s killing my back. All that scrubbing, mopping, dusting, hoovering (or vacuuming for the Americans) and washing is not recommended activity when your back is fragile.

Still, it’s all done now and everything is spick and span. Well, almost: I still have the loo to clean and the tiny front garden to tidy. Unfortunately, the wind blows crap into our garden all the time and, because it’s so small and right up against the path, adolescent (or drunk) passers-by tend to dump tings over the fence into a corner.

I also had a call from the local Job Centre today about our benefits. Apparently, I get to choose which ones I want, since I’m sick and a carer. I’ll go through that some other time, as it might help people in a similar situation. Suffice it to say that the lady who called was lovely, of course, since we used to work together. Actually, that’s unfair - I know she’s lovely to everyone she calls it was nice to speak to her again, though!

Enough for the moment. I have to go and move a huge pile of washing into the bathroom.