caused cancellation of trip to beloved sis in Scotland. Bugger. Must have been all the weeding and poncing about in the garden that caused it, plus splitting and stacking logs. Time for a young person to be hired, I think, despite what grumpy husband says. Neither of us are fit enough or young enough now to do these heavy labouring tasks and it rebounds on us in a spectacular fashion.
Am drugged up to the eyeballs and it ain't pleasant, folks. Cannot imagine why people do drugs; a couple of paracetamol are usually enough for me to take as painkillers and anything stronger, as now, makes me feels incredibly depressed, self-pitying and no longer a member of the human race. So where's the upside of taking 'em? Chacun a son gout, I suppose, and they are certainly not to my choice.
So no fun in Scotland, no fine dining, no wine drinking in the summerhouse - at least not until fit again but may manage to get there end of June, fingers crossed.
Must seriously consider the purchase of a suitably sensible and supportive chair, possibly a new desk and could really do with a new lower safer bath. Or I could just shoot myself...
In the meantime, shall continue to press hot water bottle to back, wedging firm pillows behind me and force the cats to accompany me on my bed of pain whilst watching depressing television - oh wait, there's a new Lewis this week, isn't there?
Roll on drug-free existence cushioned by booze.
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