Tag: My Lovely Man

My lovely man did himself an injury. He is back home, after a few days in hospital. Where, truth be told, he was wonderfully looked after and.. surprise, the food was fabulous. I was concerned, at some point, that he may opt to stay in hospital because the food standard exceeds what he gets at home.

But, he chose home, or they instructed him to leave… and for that I am grateful.

He now has some weeks/months of recovery ahead of him and will require help for quite a lot of things. Cue Old Flo Nightingale.

He’s a real toughie my lovely man. Not at all a whinger. High pain threshold. I am the complete opposite. Whinger supreme and I skipped the pain threshold handout queue.

Of course, unless it’s me doing the whinging, it’s not allowed.

There has been much banter between us where he is insisting he is not going to need help , he’ll be OK, (he does need help), and me telling him that he must ask and not over do things or he is going to take longer to heal.

So, back from the hospital I helped him to bed (hospitals are not restful places, what’s with that?)

Just as I was about to emphasise again that he must PLEASE not do anything that he needs help with he said…

“You know what you should bring me… that little brass dinner bell.. then I can just ring it if I need you”

Guess he’s getting the hang of this.

I am, unfortunately for my wallet, a marketer’s dream.

You’ve heard of influencers? I’m not that. I’m easily influenced.

If someone recommends or gushes about something, I’m compelled to fit it into my world.

My lovely man tries to distract me when he can see on my face I am buying into something someone is mentioning. Actually a gush or a recommendation is not required. Just a casual passing remark will do.

I once bought an enormously expensive thing because a lady I sat next to at the departure lounge stated ‘it has changed my mother’s life’.

That statement will do it.

My latest is home gym equipment. We may, in fact, need a bigger house.

So far, my home gym equipment has not made me in any way fit, but I have no regrets.

Everything I order requires assembling. We are no good at this.

Luckily our neighbour is very handy. He is making a tidy living out of assembling my orders.

He has a cctv camera that views the road.

We have reached the point of…

‘I see you have had a delivery, do you need help’

He has also gently requested..

‘perhaps don’t try and assemble it, it takes me longer to take it apart and start again’

I am, unfortunately for my wallet, a marketer’s dream.

You’ve heard of influencers? I’m not that. I’m easily influenced.

If someone recommends or gushes about something, I’m compelled to fit it into my world.

My lovely man tries to distract me when he can see on my face I am buying into something someone is mentioning. Actually a gush or a recommendation is not required. Just a casual passing remark will do.

I once bought an enormously expensive thing because a lady I sat next to at the departure lounge stated ‘it has changed my mother’s life’.

That statement will do it.

My latest is home gym equipment. We may, in fact, need a bigger house.

So far, my home gym equipment has not made me in any way fit, but I have no regrets.

Everything I order requires assembling. We are no good at this.

Luckily our neighbour is very handy. He is making a tidy living out of assembling my orders.

He has a cctv camera that views the road.

We have reached the point of…

‘I see you have had a delivery, do you need help’

He has also gently requested..

‘perhaps don’t try and assemble it, it takes me longer to take it apart and start again’

I live with some trepidation of what my lovely man is going to find online. There is no link the man won’t follow.

So recently he started reading about worm farms. Look darling, he advised, we can buy a worm farm and dispose of dog poo into it.

Our lives have reached this level of excitement.

So, of course, I ordered one. They were full of advice as to how many boxes of worms to order with it in proportion to the quantity and size of your dogs.

I asked if cat poo could be put in too. Nobody knows.

The poor things arrived.

I wondered if they had been trained, or at least briefed, of their diet from hereon. Are they a special type of worm I pondered. Masochists? I certainly feel like a sadist.

So now we have to gather up the dog poo and mix it in (with complicated ratios of hay and soil and kitchen waste), and feed it to these poor souls.

As it turns out, most of the pooing is done on the pup walk, so it’s great fun picking that up and bringing it home.

I’m not sure the worms are grateful.

Kitchen waste is leftover fresh fruit, veg and salad we are advised. Not a lot of it in this house, so they get my wine soaked strawberries.

Our worm farm came with instructions and at the bottom of the pamphlet, we were advised that there is a risk of the worms migrating if conditions are not suitable.

We are feeding them dog poo! The conditions are entirely unsuitable.

I fully expect to soon see a line of worms with their hats and backpacks, trundling off to greener pastures.

In an effort to improve my fitness levels I have injured myself.

In the buttock sadly.

I’ve pulled a muscle in my bum I informed my lovely man.

How he asked.

Must be from my exercise regime I informed him. Obvs.

It’s extraordinary that you’ve hurt yourself considering your mild routine he commented.

And usually, he continued, oblivious to the hole he was digging, if someone pulls a muscle, they know about it immediately, when and how did your injury happen?

I explained, a bit frostily, that letting yourself go is a very gradual thing. Over many epochs really. As is building oneself up again.

So, now I have to pay a professional to tend to my buttock.

There was a time, that massaging my buttock was an offered service.

That ship, it appears, has sailed. And here we find ourselves.

Some years ago I was imploring my lovely man to please instill systems to keep himself organised.

He answered me at the time that he has a flawless system, he waits for me to tell him what to do and he does it.

Now…. I know what you are thinking… ‘she sounds bossy’

But! You’d be right.

One of the things my lovely man is instructed to do is to take his (many) pills twice a day. These I carefully organise for him every 28 days and put them out morning and night.

I know what you are thinking… he’s more than capable of doing this himself surely.

Bear with.

He is in charge of organsing our glass of water for our respective bedside tables at night.

I noticed that I only had half a glass and queried it. Well, he said, my pills were there, so I just used that water and took them.

I looked across at his side and yes… there were his pills and his full glass of water. I pointed.

OK, he said, I must take my pills.

So…. now his hormones are all nicely balanced and I’m bossy AND ratty.