Thursday, 14 February 2013

Is it that time again? 6am and I are old friends.

Yesterday we had some traumatic post - well traumatic for me in my current less than excellent condition. 

Having trouble typing this morning - add that to the list of symptoms. 

Our insurance company, Zurich, announced they wouldn't cover the old house (that's the one we haven't sold yet ... ) any more and the council warned that as the house will have been empty for two years during the next payment period - starting April - our council tax will be going up 50% .

Wow, just typed that exactly backwards %05 - funny the tricks your mind plays.

So if anyone out there would like a really nice, reasonably priced 3 bed terraced house within a short walking distance of Barnsley please, please get in touch ...

I wore myself to a shred phoning around insurance companies trying to get another deal on insurance for unoccupied property - one firm that specialises in insurance for unusual cases, for example, thatched roofed properties, stopped talking to me when I declared the claim we had two years ago for the hole in the bedroom ceiling.  Fortunately, Swinton, (bless you S - whoever you are) were able to offer not only a decent price, but also a considerable saving on the insurance for our current house, which was with Zurich as well, allowing me the enormous pleasure of ringing them back and cancelling both policies.

After all that excitment I was so tired that when the OH tried to explain something technical to me, about the new Local Guide possibly, I sort of couldn't even hear what he was saying because my mind had turned off.  I could see his mouth moving, but the words were just meaningless buzzy things.  He changed the subject - I think he realised I'd gone blank - and I did follow his semi-rant about the lack of communication in his boss's office. 

So not gone completely gaga then.

He made tea, thank goodness, and then I went to sleep, for about an hour and a half I think.  It was only 9:30pm when I woke up anyway.  And that was it - look, I'm still here, still awake and now it's 6:15am the next day.  I must have had another 3/4 of an hour at around 2am as when I gave up on reading (couldn't concentrate) and playing patience (shoulder hurt too much to hold the phone) I plugged in my mp3 player and I missed the 12 tracks inbetween American Pie and Tie Your Mother down. 

The trouble is I'm really tired - gritty eyes, can't concentrate enough to read, typing a mess, but not to the point of yawning and going to sleep.  I think I broke myself again waiting for the parcel with the guides to come yesterday (oophs, no the day before yesterday now), pushing to stay awake all day scared I'd miss the man, the same man who'd called on Monday when we were both in and who neither of us had heard at the door.  We found the card 15 minutes later ... I read, I yawned, I read aloud, that worked for a while, I ate chocolate, I sat on a hard upright chair, I walked around, I read some more, I yawned some more, I posted on Facebook, I walked around, I yawned ... finally the man came at 3:25pm and then I had no trouble keeping my eyes open 'cos I had one of the OH's new guides to proof read.  I'd pushed myself through the point of being sleepy and back into being awake.

Today I have an appointment with my GP, or "Locum, Locum" as it says on their online booking form.  I intend to explain that for the past nearly three weeks I haven't been at all well and it's not getting better.  Please give me more painkillers and another bottle of the stuff for my dry eyes ... and could you possibly consider referring me for more tests for my tiredness? 

About three years ago, when the occupational health doctor at SHU was trying to get me retirement due to ill health, the doctor at the pension authority said that my tiredness would be sorted by exercise and some cognitive behaviour therapy and that as I was going to get better quick sharp I couldn't be retired.  Well, here I am, an afternoon walking around the shops sends me back to bed for a week, a trip to a meeting in London makes me sleep for three days, and letters about money make me cry.  Not back at work am I? 

Ahh, the cat has just woken up, it must be her breakfast time - as usual inconvieniently just before the OH's alarm goes off and he has to get up anyway. 

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