Episode 68. In which the day goes as planned, and yet does not.

This morning, as planned, I had a little lie-in, then got up, watched Whitechapel, and went to the hospital for my diabetic retinal neuropathy screening. What happens there is that you get drops put in your eyes that make your pupils dilate, and then they take digital photos of your retinas, which are examined for any indication that your diabetes is blinding you. I’ve had it done before, the drops sting a little bit but no more than getting dust in your eye, the flass does go off right in your eye and as with all photography of me, I always blink and ruin it so they have to do it repeatedly.

This morning, they didn’t bother with the drops. I’m not sure what that means, the woman (doctor, nurse, technician, I don’t know, and didn’t ask) said my eyes were fine as they were. She said it was probably because I’m quite young (30 in four months, thank you very much) and they might change over time. Which still doesn’t really make sense because I was younger a year and a half ago than I am now. And I was even younger still a year before that, when they first did it.

Anyway, I’m not complaining, just curious. The drops take about half an hour to work properly so that saved me a bit of time hanging around, and I already had a bit of a headache this morning (from working so hard yesterday, no doubt) and I was worried about messing with my vision given that it was looking at stuff that was hurting.

Yay me and my youthful dilatable pupils.

When I was done at the hospital I went to the station, because today was the day for my big Ikea Croydon daytrip. I love Ikea, it’s fun, it’s like being in a sweetshop, only with cushions and throws and cutlery and things.  However, the Ikea at Croydon is really, really rubbish.  There was nothing fun at all, I specifically tried to find something to buy to treat myself and there was nothing.  The closest I got to a comfort-purchase was a big knitted throw, but I didn’t get it, on the grounds that if I want a knitted throw I’ll bloody well knit myself one.

It was a very long morning, all that nonsense and I was still home by half two.

Which is lucky because the furniture for our new flat was delivered early – the company asked if they could deliver it early and we said yes, because of the yay new furniture factor.

However, I am now utterly knackered.  I should’ve had a nap earlier but I was busy doing god knows what (nothing productive, it seems) and now it’s nearly teatime.  The one advantage to the ridiculous Ikea trip was at least I got us meatballs.  Om nom nom.

Incidentally, I’m pretty fed up of the people usptairs and their damned keep-fit-by-jumping-around-on-their-creaky-floor bullshit, I can’t wait to move.

Diabetic moment of the day

I nearly used the diabetes card today, at the train station I went to buy myself breakfast – there was a crowd of teenaged boys at the counter in the shop (I forget what it’s called, one of these places where they bake their own bread then put fillings in it) so I stood at the end of what looked like a queue.  However, as soon as the boys were served and went on their way, some skinny little bitch ran up to the counter guy and demanded the last sausage sandwich (which I had my eye on) and then some fat wanker who got there after me started shouting about what he wanted.  So I said (plenty audibly), FUCK THIS and left.  Unfortunately I ended up with a vegetable fucking samosa for breakfast because there are no other breakfast type places in the station that don’t make all their options with a kilo of sugar.

I know I’m a bit of a cow at the best of times but a queue’s a queue and I cannot abide queuejumping, especially not when it’s so bare-faced and shameless.  I genuinely believe that in that situation I should be legally allowed to grab the offending parties by the throat and throw them through a window.  It’s only fair.

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