Publishing a weekend report on a Tuesday tells you exactly how my last few days have gone. My brain has been operating at the speed of a 1998 dial-up connection, and my body has spent the majority of the weekend randomly force-quitting without my permission.
Because my internal hardware was glitching so violently, I made the miserable call to cancel my son coming over. The guilt of it is heavy, but when you are unexpectedly passing out and waking up at 7:00 AM with the ‘big light’ still blazing, isolation is the only sensible choice. He is 14. He shouldn’t have to spend his weekend on standby in case his dad abruptly blue-screens mid-conversation.
Bad ASDA!
The weekend then became a strict medical lockdown. It started with the absolute betrayal of the Friday Asda click-and-collect. After surviving a week-long stomach rebellion, I was looking forward to one specific treat: a Starbar. Instead of a substitution, they just refunded it. Leaving a man high and dry on the chocolate front when he is trapped in the house is just poor form.
To counter the sheer disappointment, I decided to throw money at Amazon and ordered 12 large bottles of flavoured water. It feels like an extravagant waste when the tap works perfectly fine, but right now, I am absolutely willing to buy a little bit of joy in a plastic bottle.
Trick or treat
Halloween was a complete non-event on the doorstep. I didn’t get a single trick-or-treater, so I just watched a few horrors on my own. So I ended up giving my stash of sweets to the carers, who were more than happy to take them, and whatever is left is going straight to the carer office with the senior carer next time they visit.
I have also switched up the evening routine and started reading Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea to the birds. It turns out Jules Verne isn’t exactly their demographic, as they are fully asleep within five minutes, but I’m actually really getting into it. When I’m not reading, I am working my way through my bulk-download of Star Trek: The Next Generation, watching it in honour of Sir Patrick Stewart.
So here we are on Tuesday. I am still nursing a heavy medication hangover, but the fridge is stocked, the sweets are gone, and the flavoured water is officially en route. Sometimes, just surviving the weekend is enough of an achievement.
