A crippling workload
Hurrah, the posts from 2016 were unexpectedly being stored on Goodreads, and so I am replenishing the new site with the old posts. If you are interested, you can now scroll back for a year so far, but as there are so many posts, I don’t think I can do them all in one night.
As regular readers will know, the furniture collection has been very expensive to produce, which has caused major hold ups. I am seeking a contract or two to finish off the first few pieces, so that I can get on with Lucifer Ogilvie.
In addition, complications regarding my mother have meant that I am unable to do as much work as I have in the past, it is now turning into a huge legal conundrum which I am strangely unphased by. So far, I have had to sit in a room full of people who have either already lied, or are in the process of lying because I am such a horrible person for taking care of my mother and avoiding people.
What is most irritating about this, is that people who don’t actually know what has been said or done are now jumping on the opposing bandwagon on the assumption that I have somehow forced a career driven carer to lie about my mother, and a pair of vile nurses to assume that because I am very polite, I am also a pushover. Imagine their surprise when I chased them from the house shrieking thank you, thank you!
Anyway, for the raw foodies watching this saga, my mother now has proper arms again, and I am working on reinflating her legs after the concentration camp style nutrition in hospital. She is not hugely conversational at the moment, but as you all know, detox involves a lot of sleeping. I am restretching her muscles at the moment as she was suffering from contracture.
According to the vile nurses and her doctor, this means crushing her legs even more and drugging her so that you don’t hear her scream in pain as her muscles waste. Instead her legs are gently being stretched with a fierce rub of menthol to restore her muscles in much the same way her arms have responded. At 90, she has in three weeks recovered her ability to sit up by herself, so I look forward to seeing how these legs turn out when they are done.
The NHS seem to be genuinely offended by her recovery, which is most upsetting. Not quite as upsetting as her absent children’s wish to kill her in a care home. Yes, looking after her is blisteringly hard work. No, I do not begrudge it, although I certainly should given the family dynamic she set up in advance of her dotage.
Anyway, I am thinking I should get on with the shoe collection to pay for more resin, and I need to work on the computer games.
Toodle pip,
Ina