Morning can has broken me

[desperance]

Oops: that was nearly not good. I had a hospital appointment this morning for skin tests, to learn what I'm allergic to. Not a problem; the radio would wake me up in good time, and as it happens I was awake at 5.30 with back ouchies. Swallowed ibuprofen, apologised to boys for disturbance, went back to bed till seven. (If I'd had work to do, probably wouldn't have done that; but, y'know, book finished, days off...)

Dozed off again about ten to seven, listening to radio.

Woke up at eight. Appointment was for nine. Oops.

Still, the hospital is only a 45-minute walk from here, if I walk briskly. Plenty of time, then, to dash into the bathroom for a splash and a promise, to give the cats their ill-deserved nourishment, to wedge the freezer positively closed with a broom-handle on account of they had opened it again, to slip book in pocket and be away. Briskly.

I am never late. I was not late.

And now we know. To no one's surprise at all, I am allergic to house dust mite. Also, more mildly, to dogs. That was a bit of a surprise, as I lived half my life with dogs - indeed, some of my best friends have been dogs - and I wasn't noticeably sicker then than now. Still, there it is.

And now I have a piece of paper that tells me - medically, yet! - not to make the bed. Yay! Also, not to hoover if I can help it. I should get a friend to hoover on my behalf. Failing that (alas...), I should buy a new & clever hoover with a special filter.

Also I should get rid of all my horrible '70s carpets and go for wooden floors instead. Which actually I always intended to do anyway, only I should of course have done it (like everything) before I moved in; and I couldn't do the sanding anyway for fear of instant death, and I can't afford someone else to do it for me, even if I could find a way to cope with the disruption, even one room at a time. Aargh. It'll happen. Sometime...

So that's the best news of the morning, that I am medically licensed not to make the bed. (Oh, and I'm not allergic to the cats. That's good. They would have been affronted.)

And then I walked home again, and put the coffee on. No man should be expected to go that long without his coffee. While it brewed, I chopped potatoes and celeriac and carrots and onions and leeks and lambs' kidneys and a lamb's heart, and layered them all in a casserole with the neck-of-mutton chops and a pint of lamb stock, and put that in a sloooow oven for the day. We'll see; I shall report back.

And now I have drunk two pints of coffee and am feeling better, if slightly confused what to do with the rest of my day. Perhaps I should shop? This piece of paper says I should change my pillows regularly; I don't think it means pillowcases, I think it means new pillows. I could do that. Quick, before the sales end. I could look at posh new hoovers too. I am not wholeheartedly attached to the notion of spending my little all on domestic stuff that actually I have already, but the shopping per se, that never loses its charm...

Comments

[fidelioscabinet.livejournal.com]

The pillows themselves can be washed as well, although many people are now under the impression that this is not the case. Feather pilows now also come in super-prewashed hypoallergenic versions, for those who hate synthetics.

The allegern-barrier covers are a great help, though, as are the special furnace filters.