Monday, May 24, 2010

All of me is not well and that's a whole lot of not well

Last Wednesday, Southland, the cavacade of wheelchairs and me riding trolley for my mother's shopping.
"Do I have money?" "Yes."
"Good, I'll have that lace cardigan and in all those colours."
And so it begins.....

Thursday, Southland, one trolley but half of it is taken up with cat items. Why does my shopping list now begin with 'Kitty litter' and the register read-out ends with me approaching bankruptcy.

Friday, cooking all the stuff I bought yesterday and fighting with the Electoral Commission again.

Saturday, down to the home away from home with new Electoral Roll papers. I have to go because I know I'll find two witnesses on Saturday. Get roped in to call Bingo. I forget it's not a race to the finish and I'm not calling the Melbourne Cup. Mother to the right of me telling me what to do, little old ladies to the left of me throwing down plastic tops on their bingo boards like the Titanic was sinking. Telling ma to shut up every two minutes in between numbers is giving them the best laugh they've had in days. The only thing livelier was the fly flitting around and that committed suicide in Gordy's coffee.

No, I'm not doing it again.

Sunday, pain is my friend. It stays my friend and it is still friendly with me. If it doesn't piss off by tomorrow, it'll be the doctor and a surgery full of lung fairies. I've got my own germs and I don't like to share unlike others who think it's their mission in life.

I hate being sick, it makes my hair turn grey and fall out. You'd think the way I'm built, (brick shouse comes to mind) it would make the fat fall off but not in my world. In the words of the great Arnie, "I'll be back!"


Ann ODyne said...

what's going on here?
I got this in my dashboard subscription to Copperwitch:
'Page not found
Sorry, the page you were looking for in the blog CopperWitch does not exist."
I tried to buy some cold remedy at a Colac chemist today and they treated like a strung-out junkie. took my drivers licence away to record that I swindled some dimetapp out of them. christ.
My method is to hit it hard with some serious stuff right from the first warm forehead and itchy throat (after the salty chips).
get well soon though dear Coppy.

Ann ODyne said...

OK I left out the 'me', but you figured out what i meant.

also i lied. I am going to boil those dimetapps, add some Roundup, and make crystal*meth

Mindy said...

Hope you are feeling better soon.

Kath Lockett said...

I hear ya, JahTeh. We three are also fighting off colds that have more staying power than any toilet duck cleaner.

Our tiny weatherboard house now echoes with the sounds of three human beings coughing, snorting, throat clearing, honking into tissues, sneezing and sniffing. I'm sure my suburb should be renamed Phelgmington

River said...

Sorry to hear you're not well JahTeh. I'm having the odd twinge here and there myself. I'm not surprised with Kitty Litter weighing what it does.
Lace cardigans for your mum in a rainbow of colours? Sounds lovely.
I'm betting you'll get roped into Bingo calling again, at least once more.

JahTeh said...

Annie O, I'm getting that notice a lot plus diagnose connection but if I refresh the page, I'm right.
The trouble with the chemist is that you look like a bikie who's running a meth lab.

Mindy, too much running around and ignoring symptoms until it's too late. I did have a script from the last episode which will take a couple of days to kick in.

Your blog is very descriptive of the germs lurking in Locketts, I almost feel like putting on a mask when I visit.

River, it will pass, given enough drugs and bed rest. I'll see the doc when I feel better and that's not crazy. The logistics of getting an appointment then getting myself there and home again was just too much for today.

R.H. said...

I'm appalled that a flea like Goldsworthy with no talent whatsoever can influence this country's literature. Maybe that's why it's so awful: sub-mediocre.

JahTeh said...

Robbert, I thought she was the love of your life but here you are being snarky again.

R.H. said...

Okay, I'll give her one more chance.

R.H. said...

But she'd better look out; anymore hanky panky in taxis with dirty old professors and we're through!!!

JahTeh said...

Robbert, ever the gentleman and ready to forgive.

Brian Hughes said...

"Why does my shopping list now begin with 'Kitty litter' and the register read-out ends with me approaching bankruptcy."

Tell me about it. As well as our own two little darlings, we're currently feeding half the feline population of Fleetwood. (And that's a lot!) I've never been so broke! And what thanks do we get? Piddles up the skirting board, half-chewed chickens on the landing and the occasional stray-cat boulder hiding in the back of the wardrobe. What did I do to deserve this, I'd like to know?

R.H. said...

The cute little latte set: useless academics, public servants and so on, are suddenly feeling sentimental over basically one of their own in the way of manners, privilege and education: Bunyip Aristocrat, Mal Fraser. Look at Brunswick Street now, crawling up his arse, but golly what would you expect, from such gizmo-crazy hairdo-parading poseurs.
And just watch his state government equivalent, Jeff Kennett, who sold everything we owned get the same from these dopes in the future, all he has to do is grow old and talk nice.
Mal Fraser was the shiftiest rat ever in Australian politics (worse than Billy Hughes) sneaking through the back door of Government House to overthrow an elected Labor Party. Say what you like, dream all you want, Whitlam will never forgive him.
Grazier Mal goes back a long way: pirated land and slave labour. He is employer class, gentleman farmer, suing you, sacking you, putting you on the street. He's a landlord with his own personal army: the state police. He's a magistrate, total bastard, fining you on behalf of himself for trespassing on land he thieved years ago.

Near the end of these gangster's lives they'll seek atonement, remake themselves, but don't be fooled, once a fascist always a fascist. They'd do the same again.

R.H. said...

Latte set. Queer birds. Well-educated but saying fuck. Well-off but tattooed. Crowding the city like crowded poor. They want to live crowded, stupid cunts. And busy busy busy. What dopes.
Well they can have it. They want my joint? They can have it. Here, take it, look it over, and in they'll come, creeping, fretting: a funny look, OH my goodness!- BANK BOTHERERS! Ha Ha Ha! Suckers, all your lives, born to consume and pay interest.
Never mind, I'm getting out, escaping, from this tit display, transport hysteria, whole stinking mess. I'll be a country boy. Okay? No myki, no stabbings. I'll have a woodpile, a Lotus sports, and a good pair of boots for walking through the forest. And my dogs of course, they'll adore it. Which says it all. There's no better wisdom than you get from a dog.

R.H. said...

Full moon, brighter than a street light.

Darlings, needing your love always.

Ever above his circumstances.

JahTeh said...

Robbert, I find no forgiveness for either of them but I would still spit on Jeffrey for selling everything he possibly could then crowing about how he left the Treasury in the black. Mind you I could give Brumby a good smack in the gob right now.

Dear Fleetwood, my 'head of house' is currently sleeping on my clean washing to punish me for throwing her off my chair. She will not tolerate any intruders but is frightened of the magpies but they are huge. I just wish she would piddle in the kittylitter instead of me getting up every 5 minutes to open the front door.
Don't the English believe in chopping off the bits that breed?

Middle Child said...

Hope you feel better by now...I can be as sick as a dog but lose not an ounce despite vomitting and not eating - its wierd