Muddle-headed Kay (mhw) wrote,
Muddle-headed Kay
mhw

This journal has been placed in memorial status. New entries cannot be posted to it.

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Today

So yes. As it turned out, no sleep for me last night because the back was stupiding again, but that did mean I got to read the copy of Pratchett's Wee Free Men that James lent me last night, which is unchallenging enough to be read through morphine haze, and that's a pretty damning criticism, considering that P C Doherty can be oversubtle for me in that state.

Then to the dentist with Jus, and nothing much to be said about that barring that it's hard to pronounce "photopolymerizing filling" with one's upper jaw shot up with lignocaine. Ms Chadha is pretty hot. How come my dentist always gets the pretty graduates of either sex?

Jus dropped me in town to sort out my Council Tax benefit, which has been confusing me with poorly-written forms. Took one look at the queue, decided that coffee was the better part of valour, and adjourned to Browns.

Left Browns. The queue was, if possible, worse, presumably because people were using their lunchbreaks to sort payments and claims out, so I went and did a spot of shopping. Nothing too exciting, unless you get excited by boneless pork leg reduced from £9.50 to £6.50, and I'm fairly sure there isn't a purity question about cheap pork.

So then back to the Council House. By then I was feeling a bit grey and fadey, and the automated queueing system still said that the expected wait time was 60 minutes, just as it had before, and bearing no obvious relationship to the visible person density. I took my ticket, and waited... and waited... and waited... and then...

One of the side-effects of opiates is nausea. Nausea, often accompanied by projectile puking. It also doesn't help that the claims office is down an awkward flight of steps and some way inside the building, and that my mobility isn't of the best.

Sod getting out of there; I didn't even have chance to warn people.

But everyone was very kind and got me hot sweet tea and didn't glare at me while they swabbed the carpet and furnishings. They even offered to pay for a taxi home for me if I needed it. Good to know that my Council Tax helps pay for things like that.

Given that I conspicuously wasn't well, but seemed to be recovering OK, and after protesting that I'd be fine, they moved me straight to the head of the queue, bless 'em. All that - and my queries were sorted in three minutes: yes, a green form not a purple form; bank statements will do; no, Jus doesn't count because he's co-owning with me. If they'd only written the forms and letters coherently, I could have been sure that such was the case without having to go through all that.

So I'm back, and I'm going to write a little start of something I agreed to with Jonathan last night, and then I shall have a bath and a little lie-down.

In happy news: a lovely care parcel from meallanmouse. Ann, it made my day! *smooooooooooch* Thank you!
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