Hopefully Thursday RBH will have a bed for me, trying very hard not to count on it as I was bitterly disappointed a couple of weeks ago. I am mentally running around like a blue arse fly making sure that the washing is done, the ironing is done, housework done, you know just all those little things you want to be sorted before you go somewhere. Physically things are not being achieved at the rate my brain is thinking about them. The washing machine is having the screaming habdabs, well it was on Sunday when a cycle took 4 hours at which point I decided to cancel it and start again. I am generally not in the habit of washing late on a Sunday evening but wee Lotbots coat was grubby and I couldn't possibly let her go out in the bitter cold without her coat fresh and clean. And to those of you who know me, no I don't give the same level of consideration as to many pairs of socks are in my hubby's drawers. Since then since then my washing machine has starting make horrible noises and all of this from a machine that is 13 months old. Somehow I think this one isn't going to give me the length of service my previous machine did. New net book continues to have the screaming habdabs also and my old one won't download flashplayer. So damn annoying when one is already stressed out enough writing essays on "how to avoid structured dependency of the elderly in critical care."
If there was a way to measure my stress levels right now pretty sure they would be in the danger zone, and somewhere they would be a warning of steam being expelled. I can't relax to watch TV or read a book because constantly in the back of my mind, such questions are going around like is there enough knickers to go in my hospital bag, do I have enough medication to come home to after discharge and perhaps it isn't a good idea to include my favourite grey bra (well it was supposed to be white) as part of my hospital bag, because a doctor might see it. Which is really stupid because I don't care at home, what if I was to be knocked down by a bus I would probably be wearing my snuggly bum hugging knickers and my grey bra then. Yes I know to you men us girls are totally illogical.
I really need to take Lotbots how for a toddle, but jeepers creepers despite the sunshine is really cold in Herefordshire, and the park is really open so the wind feels more extreme down there. Also I need to hoover the dog hair that not only Lotbots deposited last night, but Lady the Shit-zu too who I dog sat for a few hours. Then there is the mopping of the floors, cooking the dinner oh and I must sort out my meds. God my brain cannot cope, I know they say women can multi-task, but I am failing miserably.
Now someone tell me why a black bra is on my dining table in front me?