Stress afoot
Appalling night due to sudden onset of the worst gout I have ever had. Quack said new meds might spark an attack at some point and sure enough I was assailed by whimper-inducing pain. Superstrength painkillers helped a little and I had some sleep after about 5am. My lovely wife brought me porridge and a flask of tea in bed and she left for work with strict instructions for me to stay there. Finished the Hangover Hotel novel in a blurry haze, a fantastic book in many ways.
Soon summoned however by the No Rest for the Wicked Dept. and after a call from an estate agent was forced to drag myself out of bed to chase solicitors. House move appears to be going at full steam -- and the prospect of moving into our new house before the end of the month. This means I had to make a payment of the house deposit I hobbled painfully around the house getting dressed and organised. I needed my passport to make the payment at the local branch, but after searching every inch of the place I could not find it. The only conclusion is that it is in storage, in one of 100 boxes.
Pretty stressed by now, decided to gather up all the other ID I had and try anyway. As I couldn't walk much, I had to take a taxi. No taxis to be had, as all of them on the school run in this Godforsaken town. The school run? I thought in my best Victor Meldrew mode. Managed to get a cab eventually, and painfully went to the bank, who naturally found themselves unable to help and seemed alarmed at my request. Managed with difficulty to get a cab home, with the same rather cheerful driver.
My lovely wife returned, and we decided to go to the big box place tomorrow morning first thing. Settled down to watch the World at War again, grateful for the fact that I wasn't living as a subject of the fashionable madmen of the 1940s. Lorraine cooked me pasta, the PK comfort food, and we watched a few Frasiers before bed. Absolutely shattered and still with an ouchy foot.
Soon summoned however by the No Rest for the Wicked Dept. and after a call from an estate agent was forced to drag myself out of bed to chase solicitors. House move appears to be going at full steam -- and the prospect of moving into our new house before the end of the month. This means I had to make a payment of the house deposit I hobbled painfully around the house getting dressed and organised. I needed my passport to make the payment at the local branch, but after searching every inch of the place I could not find it. The only conclusion is that it is in storage, in one of 100 boxes.
Pretty stressed by now, decided to gather up all the other ID I had and try anyway. As I couldn't walk much, I had to take a taxi. No taxis to be had, as all of them on the school run in this Godforsaken town. The school run? I thought in my best Victor Meldrew mode. Managed to get a cab eventually, and painfully went to the bank, who naturally found themselves unable to help and seemed alarmed at my request. Managed with difficulty to get a cab home, with the same rather cheerful driver.
My lovely wife returned, and we decided to go to the big box place tomorrow morning first thing. Settled down to watch the World at War again, grateful for the fact that I wasn't living as a subject of the fashionable madmen of the 1940s. Lorraine cooked me pasta, the PK comfort food, and we watched a few Frasiers before bed. Absolutely shattered and still with an ouchy foot.
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