A Funny Day

It’s been a bit of a funny day. We didn’t rush to get up, but John came bursting into the spare bedroom where I’m sleeping, to check whether I was phoning the doctor’s surgery. No, I wasn’t. “Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m in the queue: Number 8.” Right. Golly, I had forgotten that we were both going to try getting through the surgery this morning. Good job John remembered.

John scooted down to the surgery for 10.30, leaving me to do a spot of tidying up. I did that, and then remembered that I needed to unjam the paper from the printer. I’d been printing something on Saturday and it had eaten the remaining ‘feed’ paper – 3 sheets – and promptly stopped working.

I found a YouTube video and started watching it. Ah! I needed a screwdriver. Ran downstairs, collected my toolkit and ran back upstairs again. Darn it! The screws were too stiff for my arthritic hands. Ran back downstairs for the electric screwdriver. Just then John came home.

“How did you get on at the doctors?” I asked. “OK,” John replied, “the doc’s going to give me salt tablets to see if that’ll help on the fainting situation and advised me to drink plenty of water.” I filled the jug with water ready for the day.

I told John what I was doing. Did he want to come and supervise me on the unjamming of the printer? He said he would. Well, I was jolly glad he did. We had to dismantle the whole blooming printer, more or less! I’d never have succeeded on my own.

We went and had a bite to eat for lunch to celebrate the successful mission accomplished. We turned the TV channel to Wimbledon. Poor John – he hates this fortnight. Wall to wall Wimbledon…… hehehe. “I’m going out to the garage to see what I can do on the car,” the ol’ man declared about three o’clock. Righty-ho. Bless.

I was still glued to the tennis on TV when John came in from the garage about a quarter past four. “I’m going upstairs to have a lie down,” he said as he passed the lounge door. Good idea, I thought. Much better to lay in bed that slouch on the sofa.

Well, that’s what I thought then. Haven’t seen him since. He’s been asleep all evening! Clearly exhausted from the trip to the GP, the printer and car mending.

I checked on him at tea-time, but he was snoozing on so I thought I’d let have his sleep out. I then took him a cup of tea midway through the evening to see if he was OK. “I’m staying here,” he said. “You can close the curtains.” I wonder if he’ll wake up in the middle of the night and be ready to start his day at three o’clock in the morning? I’ll be interested to find out!

Take care everyone. God bless.