Well my brother arrived at ten past nine or 21.10, however you like to put it. The journey with Dad had involved over three hours of stops for food and drink so hadn't been a quick one. My brother had the meal we'd kept for him, we had a bit of a chat before bed and I got up early to have breakfast with him before he headed off for his work on Saturday.
At least the house is relatively tidy. I'm trying to do a bit of cleaning/tidying a day to keep on top of it. My life seems to be about trying to get a balance between living in utter chaos and wearing myself out trying not to live in utter chaos.
What would it be like to have nice strong healthy muscles who could scrub and clean all day without planning to seize up and turn into throbbing lumps of pain?
M.E./CFS, whatever you like to call yourself, I totally loathe you. Why do you have to mess up my life like this? I'd like to smash you on the floor and stamp you to death and throw your miserable remains out of the window. That's what I'd like to do.
Talking of muscles...
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