Grey skies, still wet washing, more washing to go out, it's cold, the trees are sad and the lorikeets woke up me at some disgusting time this morning.
The BrickOutHouse has two bulging discs and a high level of gout in his bloodtests due to an excess of Uric acid.
Now the hard part is getting him to Centreluck because he thinks he should work for his money.
He can't work but he's in that halfway stage of admitting he can't and should be asking for help.
This all goes back to the last four years of hell when he took any job available in the area to help with mum so he has had no full time work on a continuous basis. Unless we count the hellhole of cleaning industrial pumps in such noxious fumes and fluids that we didn't worry about his back because we thought his lungs were shrivelling. Yes, the hazmat gear was brought out every time there was an inspection by elf and safety but try cleaning the innards of a tiny heart shaped pump in great hazmat gloves. I digress but I'd still like to punch the bastard in charge.
He says he's been working for himself. That's true to a point because none of the idiots he does work for seem to have money when the job is finished. I found his CV when I was going through papers to throw out. The brilliant things he was doing as an apprentice at 19 still amazes me but thanks to workplace harassment, he ended up with a breakdown. Then, as now, he said nothing because he wanted to work. That's another on my list of 'punch the bastard in charge'
So Centreluck it is even if he sticks to saying everybody goes to them with a bad back but not everybody has the kind of X-rays he has. If it wasn't for bad luck, he'd have no luck at all.
And if we can fund Oprah Winfrey to bring herself and an audience of adoring imbiciles to tell the world about Australia then the government can fund a health card for a working man in need. Jeebus but I'm beginning to hate the cult of celelbrity in today's world.