Headpiece stuffed with straw. Alas!

[desperance]

I seem to have no resources, when I can't work.

Or, no, not that: but the bad hand that prevents my working also prevents my doing anything else useful. Can't cook, can't sort my life out, can't even wash the dishes. (When I was young, there was a TV sitcom featuring a one-armed Irishman who seemed always to be washing dishes with a little mop-on-a-stick. I remember nothing else, but that particular image keeps coming back to me now: not easy, that. And not to be made fun of, as it was.)

And apparently I am no longer any good at not doing useful stuff. Maybe it is the incipience of deadlines, but the sound of Time's winged chariot is like a whip in my ears, that I can't respond to but also can't ignore. Aaargh.

So I find myself sitting up here poking at the computer, waiting for it to tell me something nice: which is not working, exactly, but is not doing anything else either. Nor does the computer cooperate: my inbox is drearily empty of niceness. Where are the mega-deals, the unexpected love affairs, the invitations to travel far and wide...?

Also, I am increasingly worried about my hand. Or not the hand exactly, which I think is pretty much healing to plan: but the tendon down the forearm, which is alarmingly painful if I catch it wrong. Sort of electric-shock painful, at a yellworthy level. I mentioned it last week to my physio, and she was unconcerned; I wasn't reassured even then, and this is a week later.

Stitches should come out tomorrow, and if I'm lucky I'll get to speak to her again, but I don't like this. Given that the last trouble I had with hands & nerves & tendons took two years of physio to sort out, I do not like it at all.

(But! Sean-the-poet has just phoned, and we can go drinking. And then I can go to the opera: drunk, but hey. At least I don't have to sit here poking the keyboard and not working...)

Comments

[frumpo.livejournal.com]

That would be Robin's Nest
http://tv.cream.org/a-z/r/r2.htm

[desperance.livejournal.com]

See, I knew someone would remember...

*departs, pubward*

[moral-vacuum.livejournal.com]

And many years later the Irishman was in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

I am tickled by the idea of Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter tucked up in bed watching an old episode of Robin's Nest when Tim suddenly thinks "Eureka! That's just the man we need!".

[lamentables.livejournal.com]

You sound a lot like me when there's no electricity.

[http://users.livejournal.com/la_marquise_de_/]

Would you like to come and stay for a while? I can drive up and fetch you (and take you back) and can offer films and books and so forth as distractions.

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Thanks, but I can't - at least, not yet. I have to be here tomorrow (for stitches, etc), and then down to Oxford on Friday (for Saturday gig in Wokingham. Where's Wokingham? I dunno...). And after that, well, I have to rebuild my own life sometime. But thank you.

[slovobooks.livejournal.com]

I work with a man who has no thumbs...

[desperance.livejournal.com]

Really truly? How does he deal?

[pennski.livejournal.com]

Hmm, keeping everything crossed for you on the stitches and recovery front.

I have an MRI date of 21st Nov and am doing my best to bear up until the end of this week.