Wednesday, 4 February 2015

day three week twenty nine two thousand and fifteen

Pipes and thrums, air blown into the nose, close the mouth, air into the lungs, idea works, system does not.Takes getting used to.
Waking at seven, take off the mask, doctors morning appintment  today, anti-Rudolf, despite the fact that the probuscus' ruddy glow has been significantly reduced.
Put the mask of anyway, intend to get up.
Lie down for five.
Fall asleep.
A story of weakness.

Listen to the son and the wife make their morning rumpus after their alarm has made it's noises. Stay in bed, do not wish to interfere. Son comes in , Quick cuddle, goes to brush his hair and his teeth, eats breakfast, leaves house. Then get up, take shower, take pills, get dressed, all day clothes on.
Make coffee, wife back in bed, resting. Saccharin unfindeable, introuvable, therefore no coffee for her.  Sugar being fattening, it may not be used. Coffee on its own is too bitter, no way, it will not be taken.
Drink coffee, eat the remaining toast left by the son in his hurry to be in school on time. Cold toast with hot coffee.

An Irish Menu Card would read:

Cold lightly browned German Toast with a Smattering of Fresh Butter, drownded in a thin coat of Delicious Honey, accompanied by a Large Steaming Mug of our Extraordinary Top Strength Aldi Espresso Coffee.

¡BULLSHIT!, but people go for it

Leave the house go to the doctors down the sunlit street in the minus ten cold, see the building workers all muffled up.

Doc takes five miutes, he looks at the nose, asks whether it has improved or not, writes a prescription for the same antibiotics as  the last time.

Go to work now

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