Playing Catch Up

I'm still struggling to play catch up with all my chores. Bad timing - meant that the decorator came in to refresh the hallway with some basic painting. It looks clean and fresh now. It hadn't been painted since the day we moved in 1999 and it needed doing then! It was a struggle to clear all the bookcases in readiness and of course it all had to be put back afterwards. Just at a time when I still felt weak and useless.

I still feel very tired. I've been told that I shouldn't underestimate the physical effects of the demands placed on me by caring for MyMan. That his depression is sapping my strength too. Apart from the extreme feeling of bone wearying fatigue I have a positive attitude. I'm just frustrated that I never get all that I want to do done each day. I get the 'must do' chores done and am having to leave the 'would like to do' list undone. But it is the latter that are fun, interesting or sociable .

At the moment I'm trying to get myself organised for a Macmillan Coffee morning. Several weeks ago October 1st seemed to be a good date for a charity coffee morning. Now I'm not so keen. I hope the sun doesn't shine that day. The last thing I want to see is all my cobwebs glowing in high definition sunlit glory.

Update: 13th October - All who came to join me for coffee and cake said they enjoyed the chance to socialise for a good cause. I've just paid a cheque for £90 into the fund.

Too Ill To Care

It has been a very eventful week. Following on from the flood. I ended up in bed with a dose of gastric flu. I only left my bed to visit the bathroom, many times. In three days I didn't eat. I did nothing much beyond sleep or listen to Radio 4 or the World Service, which played continuously in the background.

My Man fed himself on canned soups, baked beans or spaghetti on toast. On the few occasions that I did surface to go to the kitchen for a glass of cooled boiled water. I would see that he had used practically every saucepan we owned. I was relieved that I did not have to worry about the mounting mountain of unwashed pots and pan. He told me that he would do the washing-up. I was not to fuss, or worry about it.

I finally surfaced on Sunday, but felt quite weak and nauseous. My appetite did not pick up until the remnants of the used saucepans had finally being cleared from every kitchen surface. It has taken a long time to return to normal, whatever normal is. After spending so many days lying down or sitting weakly in a chair. my back muscles are protesting. I feel stiff and old.

If I ever wonder what I do with my time every day. the evidence now lies in front of me. As soon I was able I picked up a cloth. I cleaned the kitchen sink; the bathroom basins and the toilets. Dusting, hoovering, tidying, nothing has been done. At the moment I'm just concentrating on maintaining a basic level of hygiene.

Normal service will be resumed as soon as possible.

Waste Not Want Not . . .

Waste not Want not but it's time for a new beginning. In a new house. Where all the plumbing works properly.

This week I've had the plumber out 3 times. The recently fitted replacement waste disposal system clogged up. It refused to evacuate the workings of its innards into the drain. Instead it had tried perversely to rid itself of its contents by violently vomiting. Me, the kitchen sink, windows and cupboard doors were all covered in a dirty regurgitated mix of shredded vegetables, teabags and slimy water.

I took a risk and plunged a hand into the unit up to my elbow. Fret not: I only did this after I'd turned of the electricity. The blade and impeller were both moving freely. I believed it was a fault with the new unit. My previous waste disposer had worked well for 10 years with only a couple of minor hitches. One of these being when I'd inadvertently thrown a scouring pad into the works. I'd only replaced it as I'd had a new double sink fitted. Believing that at 10 years of age it should retire before it died.

I sent out an appeal to my friendly plumber. He called in on his way home. Dismantled the drain and found it was thoroughly clogged. He checked the waste disposer unit said it was working perfectly well. That the clogged drainpipe was the cause of its malaise. After an hour he left with everything working well and flowing freely again.

The next evening while preparing a salad I turned on the waste unit. Within seconds an ominous salad red and green tide started to head once again in my direction. This time I was faster on the draw. Killing the power before it had another bout of projectile vomiting. The plumber was there within half an hour. Still said he'd every confidence in the unit. He made a minor adjustment to the angle of the drain, removed a 'baffle' in a pipe (whatever that might be) and once again left me. He suggested I run the water well after using the unit. To ensure any residue was cleared from the drainpipe. Which I duly did.

This morning I found the cupboard full of water. Another phone call. He arrived within the hour. He thought that as the pipe work had been taken apart so often over the last few days that it could be a washer problem. He checked all the joints, washers, replaced everything. Tightened every nut, screw, bolt whatever. Swilled and flushed through the system. Neither of us really feeling 100% confident. He was about to leave. Re-assuring me that any more problems and he'd rethink the pipe work from scratch.

It was at this stage the overflow pipe from the tank in the loft started to gush.

The central heating engineer is booked to come and fit a new cold water tank tomorrow. Neither he nor my plumber believe the ancient tank will accept a new ball valve fitment.

It never rains but it pours.