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Ezoic
2011-02-16 23:45:00 (UTC)

It always pays to save your work regularly

I cannot believe that I have just lost all my mumbo jumbo for the
day. I had typed what would amount to several printed pages on
three different subjects and now, because I was trying to be clever,
it has disappeared into the nothingness of cyberspace. I suppose I
should be relieved that it is not a business document I had been working
on for hours, or an Excel spreadsheet that does not have an automatic
save, but it is still quite annoying. I had read, proofed, and re-read
the entry but now it is but a distant memory. I will try to recreate
it, but it will never be the same as I poured it directly onto the
screen from my subconscious which has now shut up shop for the day. Oh
well, if I have time I will start again. But I am going to save first.

What was I writing about - I really have no idea. I will ramble
on and maybe it will come back to me.

The following bites were far more interesting and witty when I wrote
them the first time, now they just seem sad and uninteresting, but here
we are anyway.

It’s strange, the things we find irritating. First I must say that I am
extremely grateful to Hugh for his help in the past few days. Since
hurting my arm I have been unable to drive and if it were not for him I
would be ‘a prisoner in my own home’ or flat broke from paying for
taxis. Hugh has kindly driven me to and from work and delivered me
safely into the hands of the physiotherapist and waiting, no doubt
smoking himself to death, in the car park. However it is the small
things whilst driving that have started to drive me crazy.

I know this sounds petty, but each time he gets into the car he
changes the position of the driving seat. Its not the position changing
that is the problem, after all he has extremely long legs and I don’t
want him to have to drive with them up around his ears, but it’s the way
he does it. Brent and I grasp the lever and smoothly manoeuvre the seat
into the correct position before releasing it. Hugh, on the other hand
clicks the seat back, grating metal on metal. Far worse to my ears
though is the handbrake and gear changing. Admittedly Hugh is used to
driving a manual and my car is an automatic, but each time he comes to a
stop, not just at traffic lights or a stop sign, but when the queue of
traffic slows or while waiting for someone to move out of a parking
space, he applies the handbrake and puts the car into neutral. Again,
when we put on the handbrake we depress the button, and perform the
action in a smooth and silent movement. Not Hugh, each time he wrenches
the brake, taking it through every clacking ratchet. I know it is
pathetic but there it is, it makes me tense and irritable.

--- ---
On Wednesday evening I was laying in bed reading, happy that for the
first time in days, because of this damned arm, I was able to lie on my
side (the good side). I had an itch on my back and, without thinking I
scratched it with my dodgy appendage. Once I had scratched the itch I
went to replace my arm on the upturned side of my body but it wouldn’t
move. It suddenly felt heavy and dead, just like it does when you fall
asleep on a part of a body. Mild panic set in till I realised Brent was
lying next to me, engrossed in his book. I asked him if he could move
my arm down as I couldn’t feel it. I know now that I didn’t phrase the
questions very well because the next thing I knew he was yanking my arm
further across my back, pushing my hand
into the mattress. Suddenly I could feel something – a sharp pain in my
shoulder and when I yelled at him to stop he became quite confused, "but
that's what you asked me to do" he grumbled at me. Although we both saw
the funny side of it once I had explained that when I said down, I meant
back down onto my body. The English language is a
funny thing and so easily misinterpreted.



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