I don't ask for much in life - a bit of laughter, good friends, a roof over my head......and a shower that actually puts out heated water.
Usually, I have this type of shower. However, recently I have found that more and more my shower is either not getting warmer, or is warm but suddenly runs cold for a few minutes. Today I decided to have my daily shower in the morning, as I knew I wouldn't be doing too much physical work compared with yesterday's container unloading. I turned the shower on, and put the kettle on while I waited for it to warm up. I returned to the shower and stepped in, expecting to feel the warmth of the water. Instead, I threw myself against the far wall of the shower as freezing cold water hit my body. I stood there, waiting for the water to warm up. I stood there for a good three minutes and still no warmth. Eventually I popped out of the shower cubicle and went into the kitchen to check that the boiler was on (my hot water is on demand - whenever I need it, the boiler kicks in). The boiler was on, so I returned to the shower. The water was still cold initially, but after a minute or so it eventually warmed up. The annoying thing is, I spent less time under the warm shower than I did waiting for the water to get warm. It's so frustrating standing there naked, waiting for something to heat up.
And I can't tell you how many times that has happened.
I've decided that my body is at war with my mind. It's my limbs versus my eyes and my brain. All my life, I have been susceptible to moments of clumsiness. The scars I showed you in my blog of 13th June were almost all caused as a result of my own lack of spacial awareness or clumsiness. I used to think I was just a bit stupid - but not anymore. It's become blatantly obvious to me that my mind hates my limbs, and deliberately tells them to not lift the foot high enough so that I trip over the kerb, or keeps my hand holding the car door as I close it. The mind has formed an evil alliance with my eyes, as it is they that retrieve the information from the world around me and sends it to my mind for processing. Sends it with a note saying "opportunity to strike a blow here!" when the appropriate moment presents itself.
Initially, when I was younger, my limbs didn't notice what was going on. Over time however, they not only realised, but they also decided to strike back. In fact, I'm sure that my limbs are trying to kill my brain. How? let me explain:
As mentioned above, my shower has a habit of running cold intermittently. When it is doing so, I run my hands through the cold water to judge when the temperature is rising. On more than one occasion, my hands have told my mind that the water is warming up - only for me to step under the water and find that it is still freezing. This is clearly a plot to hopefully get the shock of the freezing water to kill my brain.
Similarly, when I have an ice cream, my jaw and throat muscles intentionally take a huge bite of ice cream, and then watch as the "Brain Freeze" (the headache caused by eating too much ice cream too fast) sets to work on my mind. Although not strong enough to kill my brain, it is more of a guerrilla attack - designed to temporarily disrupt.
Even my back and neck muscles get involved - I once was looking out of a window built into the slanted roof of a building. The window swung out and upwards as I opened it, so I was leaning out of the window with the glass pane above my head. Now my eyes had seen me open it, and my mind knew that the glass was above my head. Nonetheless, my back muscles decided to straighten my back, and at the same time my neck muscles pushed my head upwards so that I banged it on the window pane above me. Another attempt to kill my brain.
I don't know who will win this battle. All I know is that I am caught in the middle!!!
Bees. Worker Bees (who are male - what does that tell you?) only live for between 45 and 60 days. Queen bees can live for up to two years (typical). The most common cause of death in a worker bee is Wearing it's wings out. When you find a Bee walking across your floor, it not on a ramble, or a walking holiday, it is walking because it has worn it's wings out. Away. Off it's tiny body. And although it can't fly, it is still heading in the direction of its hive - it still knows which way to go. I think that it is incredible that towards the end of it's life, its wings get worn away by constant use. Imagine if that happened to us as humans? You get to old age and wham! your legs fall off. You sit up in bed on the morning of your Eightieth birthday and find that your arms are still lying next to you. I think I would much prefer that than suffering with Alzheimer's or a similar disease - what better way to know that your time is near than having some or all of your limbs suddenly eject themselves from your torso?
Going back to Bees - for every wingless Bee you see crawling across your carpet, how many lose their wings just as they leave the hive, or just as they
I realised that life is basically a Political Correctness sandwich. The majority of our lives we are always told that we can't say certain things because they are not Politically Correct. There is always somebody who will get upset by something we say. However, at either end of life, you can say what you like. As small children, any verbal outburst is attributed to "Innocence". I went to London once with my Girlfriend of the time and her four year old Niece. Whilst waiting for a train, the four year old noticed a heavy set man on the platform opposite, and proceeded to say loudly "Look how fat that man is auntie Vicky!". Shocked and embarrassed, we said "no, he's not fat is he Amy?" to which she replied "He is, he's really fat!" As adults, it is not done to say such things about people, but when a child says it, the usual response is "oh bless, she so innocent, she doesn't know what she is saying".
Similarly, I believe there is an unwritten rule that once you reach a certain age, you can say what you like about who you like, and no-one takes a blind bit of notice. Elderly folk can be as outrageous as they like, and the most people will say is "It's his age" or "tsk! what is she like?".
I think old people should be allowed to hit younger folk with their walking sticks etc. They've lived a long time, paid their taxes, seen a lot of change, fought in wars etc. so I think they have earned the right to knock the younger, lazier, more selfish generations out of the way when they are going about their business. Right up to their last moments, with a walking stick clenched between their teeth (because their limbs have dropped off), they should be thrashing about like a shark in a feeding frenzy.
That's what I'm going to do when I go - and I'll take a few of you with me!