Some days just don’t live up to their early promise. Today was one of them. I started reasonably early, and if staring at a blank screen had been on my list of activities, I would have nailed it. However, it didn’t, and I have to count it as a failure.
There is a pasta bake in the fridge ready for tomorrow, the washing up is done and the evening meal is about to go into the oven. It’s pie and roast vegetable. The gravy will be made by pouring boiling water onto gravy granules. It is, like me, simple.
Ironic that the Masterchef final is on to tonight. Watching it obviously does not improve my cookery skills.
I’m fairly sure that hibernating is not as easy as it looks, particularly as I get older. Waking up every few hours to use the bathroom seems to defeat the whole idea of hibernation. I want to sleep from November to 24th December and go back to sleep around 29th December until April. Based on my last stay in hospital, I may have an idea.
For those of you who don’t remember, that was the visit to hospital where the medical profession shoved a camera into a body orifice not designed to accommodate cameras, checked my bladder and sent me home with a plastic bag of urine attached to my leg for three months. Obviously not the same urine, I had to drain that, including, once, into my shoe after knocking the valve that controlled such things.
However, amusing as I find it in hindsight, it wasn’t fun at the time. The only good bit was that I spent three months sleeping through the night. At bedtime you detach the “day bag” and attach the extension pipe and “night bag”. You throw the bag on the floor, arrange the plastic tubing and go to sleep. Eight hours later you wake up, detach the night bag, dispose of the contents and attach the day bag.
I often dream of those carefree nights of sleep. The only problem is that when you are attached to a catheter you can’t help thinking about your own mortality. And then there’s the first night of non-catheterisation. After 12 weeks of urinating automatically, wherever you are and whatever you are doing (a bit like a mouse) it’s hard to fall asleep without worrying about whether you will wake up at the necessary times, or whether . . .
Perhaps I will stop there.
The top picture is to remind me it will be spring soon.
Watching a tv show doesn’t improve skills?
Cookery skills? Clearly not. However, my ability to find gold in Australia or get away with a complicated murder probably have been enhanced by watching TV . . .; 🙂
No daffodils here until April or May. Hard not getting a full night’s sleep. Alas, all too common as we age.
You may remember my catheter debacle, Quercus. Not as disturbing as yours
I’d forgotten about it until you reminded me. It’s one of those things about getting old, first you fall into the hand of a urologist (specifically one finger) and then you, mercifully, forget it as your memory goes . . .
I am not sure that your idea for uninterrupted sleep is one that I can embrace wholeheartedly.
Perhaps not, but as a side-effect it was one of the more welcome ones.
I I usually wake up about 330 or 4 am. Then I do Redactle and go back to sleep for an hour or not and start my usual regime of coffee. I would love to have at least one night of eight hours sleep
Thanks for introducing me to Redactle – more displacement activity was right up there on my to do list. 🙂
I remember your post on “the bag”. Aside from the extra sleep, that was not fun for you to live through. Spring will be here soon, never fear! I was thinking yesterday, when I was out walking, that in another month I will start noticing the daylight is increasing. Slowly but perceptibly the sun will be creeping north along the east ridge. Daffodil shoots will emerge in late December, and some in more protected areas with a southern exposure will be blooming by the end of January.
Yes, it’s the shortest day very soon and, as you say, the days will start getting noticeably longer in a month or two. Snowdrops, crocuses, daffodils . . .