Two more days...

It’s Wednesday. I promised myself that if my heel showed no signs of improvement by Friday, I would drag it and my sorry fat arse down to the local quack to see what they can do.

Besides, I’m running low on Seratide and I need a new scrip.

I also plan on checking what other rheumatism remedies there are. I was given some quinine-derived stuff last time by a specialist who wasn’t sure if it was rheumatism or Lupus(!). The stuff did nothing for my wrists and a lot of alarming things to my brain. I had a massive cognitive failure and those pills were the cause.

I’d rather have what little brains I have left and suffer pain and agony than be able to move and not remember why I was moving.

For now, since I’m literally stuck in one place for extended lengths of time, entropy is winning in the house. I can see things piling up. I can also see nobody doing shit about it. Just leave it all for Mummy. Mummy will fix it.

Honestly. I don’t give a pink flying crap if you re-organise everything in the process, just CLEAN UP AFTER YOURSELVES WHILE I’M OBVIOUSLY CRIPPLED! For fuck’s sake!

And it wouldn’t hurt to clean up after others, either.

Hubby and Mostly Shiftless have been working super-duper late ever since I hurt myself and (gasp) politely asked Mostly Shiftless to do something for me. The horror.

He didn’t lift a finger, BTW. That’s why I call him Mostly Shiftless. He’ll only do something to help us when he feels like it.

Though I am proof that one does not die from doing housework, perhaps they are scared they’ll hurt themselves in the process.

Only if you leave furniture in the pathways, you lousy slobs…

Okay, that was mildly unfair. Hubby does pick up after himself. And Mostly Shiftless can be relied upon to do his own laundry. They just don’t do anything else.

Hubby once told me he had plans to buy me something both expensive and nice when the occasion warranted. I’m starting to think, “fuck the gift. Help me clean the house!”

I’m in pain and I’m lashing out in the only way I can. It’s very possibly not fair.

Neither’s leaving everything until I can walk again.

Just sayin’.