Thursday, 26 February 2015

I dropped a bookcase on my foot.

Nice Mr Next Door is moving, so it seemed to be a good time to lose the meccano shelving that I was planning on getting rid of, because I know he can use it, and while I was at it he said I could put the bookcase I wanted to get rid of into the skip he was getting.  My knee is a bit iffy at the moment after falling on Tuesday - I slipped on some mud and went crashing.  It isn't bad, just awkward and gives way now and again, which is why it was obviously the ideal time to drag a meccano shelving unit, five food high, over some clutter on the floor and up some concrete steps.  

I managed that, by a miracle.  So it was obviously an ideal time to manhandle a bookcase taller than me out and up the steps.  I'm not posting a pic, it was covered with dust and stuff was piled everywhere.  Everyone knows that you should always clear a space for stuff to go before you move it off the shelves.  That makes sense.  I just dumped it, my dining room is more chaotic than ever.

So I was manhandling the dratted thing up the dratted stairs and the darned thing fell on the edge of my dratted foot.  I said some rude words.  No, it isn't serious.  Yes it is sore.  I may have a minor bruise.  I just felt I could cry.  It is such a little thing, but I felt like it was the end of the world.  It is particularly embarrassing when I think of all the people that have genuine problems.  But I dropped a bookcase on my foot.

Father has asked me to get him £100 worth of Euros, because it is low at the moment and he wants to go on holiday to Malta.  At the moment he isn't fit to leave the nursing home.  Of course I will get them for him, he knows what he is asking.  That's fine.  It breaks my heart that such a free spirit can't get to the nearest pub, let alone Malta.  The Euros aren't about the holiday, but hope.  I think it is a misplaced hope.  I'll get them anyway. 

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