Woken by anger this morning. Reader beware the rage is raw.
Bunny scratching at the bars at 6am, she’s done with sleep wants up.
More fucking negative covid tests into the bin.
Passed the fields with rubbish just dumped. What’s the matter with you fuckers?
At the weekend we visited our blue bell wood, got chatting to a local on the way. The wood is closed. Last year some visitors dug up the bluebells, crushed them under foot, took some home. You’ve spoilt it for the rest of us. You can fuck off. Don’t come again.
Where do our ideas of beauty come from? I was reflecting on a thread from @obaa_boni where they were discussing the power dynamics of beauty, who can afford to be seen as beautiful and it occurred to me that when I wrote about the chiropodist perhaps I wasn’t clear. My concern for the damage to the toe nails wasn’t cosmetic, it was around infection. My concerns about hair washing were around scalp irritation that had resulted in needing a prescription.
I am not innocent of neglect of my cousin and neither are those in positions of power. At a time when she was unable to care for herself no-one cared enough.
So this morning we’ll take the three bags of tablets and the new ones that were picked up on Friday and have a bit of a regroup.
I’ll phone adult social care again, keep them up to speed about the pending eviction. Push back on those words from my children “Mum you look tired, do you need a rest?” They know I’m not present for them, the emotional toll heavy as it is.
Bunny keeps coming for cuddles, she knows something’s wrong.
I wonder if those who are wondering about social care in the next ten years, I wonder if they are looking after their cousins. If not why not.
I’ll no doubt come back to this fuck wittery later. Stuck as I am in this fucking gap.