Tuesday, October 09, 2012

Three days into daylight savings, meh

I hate daylight savings. It takes me weeks to acclimatise and I'm still finding clocks I haven't changed yet. Anyway how can we save any daylight when I've hardly seen the sun and now they're forecasting rain, thunder, cold and storms. I blame politicians. Was Mr. Abbott standing in a drain at the weekend, when he was standing next to our Ted? Surely he can't be that short but he did look as though he only came up to Ted's navel.

I am now going to have a complain, besides the complain I already had and the one after this.
Southland, nice shopping centre, bloody awful toilets.  Doc Marvin said not to take the diuretic pills if I was going out, brilliant, the effects last two days.  So, should have used the wheelchair toilet on level 3, I'm allowed I have scars to prove my knees aren't co-operative.  Second level and I really know I'm not going to make it back up the escalator.  I know I've put on weight but someone has also zapped the size of toilets down from human to small primate. By the time I hang shopping bags and my bag on the hook on the back of the door after I managed to shave off 3 kgs getting it shut, get my knickers down after tucking dress under chin, backing up  to the miniscule dunny, I was in trouble.  Not only did I forget to up the seat but I didn't back up far enough.  Noise, there's a noise.  Great bladder control now as I hold the horses!  Back up a bit more, release, relief.  Now get out the anti-septic wipes and wipe out the shoe, the foot, the leg, the seat, the floor and 20 minutes later, shave off another 3 kgs as I drag myself out the door.
I would complain to the management but everyone knows that fat people are killing the earth so why worry if one pees in their shoe.  Skinny mongrels.

Can I haz another complain?
Mother, complain.  Forgetting to ask for her pain control again. She is on enough to knock out Black Cavier but any breakthrough pain means she needs extra for a few days. She's been in pain since last Wednesday. I checked on Saturday and she wasn't in the book for extra pills. So still on normal daylight I get up on a Monday morning to go down there. I'm not ready for the Home on Monday, I go Tuesday and I certainly wasn't ready for the sight of Annie Joyce with stitches, black eye and busted knee and her mouth shut for a change. I swear that woman's voice would cut ice. She fell out of bed Sunday night, bled everywhere and got carted off to hospital. Yes, sorry, poor old dear, I'm devastated. My mother says to be nice, I'll be old one day. Hell, woman haven't you noticed, I am older and getter older by the minute.
Ignoring moans from the other side of the room, I get out my illegal white cheesymite roll from Bakers Delight and a bottle Nestea (hope they're reading this I could do with a case) take one yummy bite  when Annie Joyce decides to upchuck. No one has put her bell within reach, Ma's bell is not within reach so I had to belt down the hall and grab a nurse.  Really took the shine off the cheesymite roll but I soldiered on.  Second gallop down the hall was for her other end. Nurse made that in good time.

Thank you to the spammer who offered to up my comments to 4000 a day. You're a real gem.
Thanks to the fourth cold caller about my telephone discount yesterday. I hope your hearing comes back soon.
Thank you to Miss O'Dyne for her suggestion that I turn my experiences into a TV show. It's a good idea, I'd probably piss myself laughing reliving it all.


The Elephant's Child said...

I hear you about the rotten toilets. They are down around my ankles and when I have folded down it is very, very difficult to get up again. And if I lean on the toilet roll holder for support it makes ominous creaking noises. Humph.

I would certainly watch your television show. I think it would have more laughs per minute and more charm as well as anything has since they took 'Waiting for God' off. Does anyone else remember that? And did anyone else love it?

River said...

I agree with you about toilets being way too tiny. Step in, step right up to the pan and reach behind to shut the door before being able to turn around and lock it. Hang your bag, also your giant old weatherproof jacket because hitching that up is impossible, have your pee, flush, redress and remember to take your bag, then back up way over the toilet pan to have enough room to open the door. I've given up on most of that and use the nearest wheelchair toilet. Usually there's nobody waiting for it, so I zip in and out in half the time. I know it's wrong, but it's there, it's empty, I need to pee (in comfort please).
I think Ann O'Dyne has a good idea going there, a TV show based on your blog. I'd watch it!

R.H. said...

I'd laugh to see you entering a backyard dunny, I'd try to push it over.
Ted is about 6ft 3".

R.H. said...

Where did you see the concrete sheep?

Kath Lockett said...

I'd watch your show for usre.

JahTeh said...

EC, I can't believe I forgot to flip the seat up which was the problem and I learned the hard way not to lean on the roll holder. And that's another whinge, smarties who like to whip the toilet roll up and under where you have to claw at it to get a piece of paper.
There were two shows that were good, "Waiting for God" and 'One foot in the Grave", British of course.

River, thank you, another illegal piddler. It's the rail on the wall that's such a help and we don't take up much time because we're not struggling.

Robbert, do you realize that most suburban backyard dunnies were made of asbestos sheeting? It's a wonder we all aren't coughing up lungs. I remember the earwigs under the seat, the spiders hanging from the ceiling not to mention the race horse shoving his head in the door for company.
If Ted's that height then Abbott is short.
Concrete sheep and chooks at one of those big garden furniture place just before DFO.

Kath, you're back and is Mum still out of goal? I caught myself putting the plastic spoons and sugar in my bag the other day and thought of her.

R.H. said...

Asbestos? Man, that's low-class. Our backyard dunny was weatherboard.
What's DFO? Where is it? How much do they want for the sheep, is it full size?

Fenstar de Luxe said...

I still haven't changed any of the clocks in my house!

JahTeh said...

Robbert, I haven't seen the sheep for ages but it was really expensive and full size. Rietman's in Bay Road used to put it out on the nature strip. DFO is near Moorabbin airport but the garden supply place is just before that and they have the chickens. I can just see me walking my shopping trolley home with a concrete chicken sitting on top.

Fen, if I didn't have the computer updating itself I wouldn't know what was what with the backward or forward thing. I even have to update the damn BGL machine.

Ann O'Dyne said...

toilets? when I am on the move with bags I always use the large sized disabled ones.
Daylight-saving Time is a sop to guys who want to get a round of golf in after work. plus, it always turns COLD as soon as the clock goes forward, making it even harder to get out of bed. At the end of the day, it's daylight and you go "christ it's 8 o'clock already".

IF everything was left alone, our circadian rhythyms would adjust gradually each day. It's hard on animals too.

R.H. said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
R.H. said...

I'm reading a book about home design since Federation and you're probably right about the asbestos, sheets of it were widely used.
And how's this, from the 1940s:
"At the urging of Home Beautiful she [the housewife] has also taken up asbestos craft, which she does at the kitchen table on weekends. Nock and Kirby's sell offcuts of this versatile material, from which shelf coverings, table mats, cutting boards and many other useful items can be fashioned.
The average handy woman would have no trouble dealing with the material itself as it could be cut with a saw...and the edges can be smoothed by rubbing with sandpaper. It is easy to keep clean and, with its greyish-white colouring, it looks efficient, smart and fresh.

R.H. said...

Taken from:
Australians At Home Since Federation.
Peter Timms.
(Miegunyah Press. 2008.)

No snivelling atheist feminist or same-sex rooter can ever say RH plagiarises anything. Hell, why would he bother, no one else is half as interesting.