Can't help noticing that my arms have become very itchy all of a sudden, indeed, it feels like a small army of ants are crawling about under the skin. I checked the washing powder (Fairy non-bio) and the washing up liquid (Fairy as before), same perfume, same clothes, same moisturiser. To distract me from scratching off my skin I googled 'itchy forearms'. Oh dear. It would appear that any day now I am going to wake up as a wrinkled old prune of a crone, with not a mg of oestrogen to my name...... Not much help in terms of relief (suggestions vary from the wacky to the completely mad) but at least I understand why I feel so very scratchy. One of the many and varied symptoms of becoming old whilst also being a female. Ugh. Still better than the alternative....
Am also about cheesed off with being chief nurse down on the farm. Eldest STILL coughing and barking fit to burst, with a raw sore throat and varying degrees of headache. Things were so bad yesterday that we called the out of hours doctor service for a bit of advice. In a nutshell that advice amounted to 'stop wasting my time' and 'go to A&E if you have concerns'. Ouch. Second son is the beneficiary of half a course of antibiotics which I found in the back of the pantry. Only slightly out of date too, when I blew the dust off to look at the use by details. Luckily they seem to be for chest and throat infections (among other things), and something of a miracle has happened for him since he began taking them yesterday. Sadly they will run out too quickly. Hoping its enough to bring him to full health. The green sputum seems to have retreated for him anyway, which has made his life much more comfy. I know he should not be taking old drugs, however, I can't get him to a GP surgery for love or money, and he has been so ill for the whole of Christmas that I am desperate. Fingers crossed. And the Farmer. He says he feels quite a lot better today, enough to realise how very off-colour he has been throughout Christmas and the New Year.
What a festive period. Hot lemonade by the bucketful, packets and packets of aspirin, ibuprofen and paracetemol (not all at once I hasten to add), decongestants, throat sprays, nose sprays and lozenges. This house resembles nothing so much as a Chemist's shop. This bug (or bugs) has been hanging around making everyone miserable for two weeks. Its time for it to BUG OFF!
Fetched in the yellow horse for a second spin in three days. Now that the thaw has come I need to exercise the ants out of his pants too. However, following the trend as highlighted above he has cast a front shoe. Lost in the mud. Therefore, back out into the field he went, as he's no good with only three wheels on his wagon, and now we must await the attentions of the farrier. More thumb twiddling.
Cleaning at work tomorrow, 8 showers, 8 toilets, 4 kitchens, 13 bedrooms etc etc. Perhaps the activity will push the itchy arms to the back of my brain for a while! Would like to be able to say that I have innumerable SALE bargains, but I would be fibbing. Couldn't face the melee this year. Hoping I didn't miss anything too bargainish!
Hoping that January brings the builder who promised me a new shower room prior to Christmas. He didn't say which Christmas.
And to round off this tale of woe, here's a final story to cheer you.
Before Christmas the dishwasher decided that it would go a bit mad. It wouldn't switch off or complete a cycle. The man who mends the washing machine was duly telephoned and promised to come on Friday. He didn't. He was phoned again and said he would come the next Friday. And didn't. In order to stop me rushing to the shops to buy a new dishwasher, the Farmer telephoned a new advertiser in the Local paper. The advert went something like this: 'phone Frank for domestic appliance repairs, any distance, no callout charge etc'. Sounded Fantastic. Frank said he would come on the Saturday before Christmas. I couldn't believe my luck. And Frank did come, and he brought a burly mate with him. Frank pulled out the dishwasher, agreed it was the microchip, asked his friend to cop a hold of the other end, and carried the dishwasher out to his white transit van. Hoho, said the Farmer (and I), where are you going with that then? Oh, to test it of course, when I get the new part that will be £80 fitted and working. See you. And there you have it. In a nutshell. And we let him take it! No card, no details, no phone number (except for the one in the paper, which I have BURNED by accident). Has it been stolen in the boldest scam I have ever experienced? I think so. What fools we are!!!! Go on, have a laugh on us! Anyway, I'm in the market for a new dishwasher......
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