Dementia Dungeon Fronto Wotsit Lobe Temporal Thing

Problem B's

Blog

...is not showing up on internet searches. I'm baffled as to why this is. This is why I've introduced headings as well as SEO stuff  on the back end. You know, key-words and so forth. It's tedious if you ask me. Why doesn't the search engine recognise words on the blog? Thanks for clicking on my link to get here but at this time of writing I am invisible as far as Google is concerned.

Breakfasts: 

We're all getting up at the same time and it's chaos. We're all down here together and I have to have silence at the table. I realise this is unreasonable but I can't read with people talking. So I have to go to another room which I do. Apparently I'm normally completely passive-aggressive when I do this (moi?) but today I think I managed it with good grace. I'll find out later from J if I succeeded.

I just read some great book reviews in The TImes. When someone précis a book and tells you why it's good or bad why read the actual book afterwards? Someone just got rid of all the guff for you - all the hot air - the irrelevant stuff - has been cut away and you're left with the chicken oyster. 

I mean, duhhh!

Blogs (other people's)

I read other dementia sufferers' blogs yesterday in my research. Flippin' 'eck Tucker; mine's nothing like theirs. Mine is a series of stupid/mad rants with dementia making cameo roles for the most part, and theirs are all grown-up and proper and sensible and stuff. Lots of sensible photographs and positivity. You've got to be positive. Positive even when you can't type anymore and dribbling down your shirt. Positivity! 

At least I can still breathe! Whhooo!

My blog's nothing like theirs. Why's this always the case with everything I do? Why can't I be like them? Always the oddball who doesn't get it and tries so hard and then it's obvious I'm trying too hard everything thinks I'm a prat. Quite rightly too, it must be said.

I must try to be like them and fit in. That's what I must do. Fit in. Yes.

"Well, you've made such a good job of it so far. in your life. Titter."

WHO SAID THAT?

I need to grow up. I thought adulthood would occur on my 18th birthday. I thought I'd feel an urge to go to Hodges in the High Street and buy a tweed sports-jacket and some brogues and be like other adult males. 

Well obviously that never happened. 

Bloody builders

...at the hospital breaking stuff in the demolition phase of whatever it is they're doing there is making the house shake and driving the dogs nuts. I sent a couple of emails about that and got a reply from the hospital. Amazingly the noise and shaking stopped.

RESULT!

This turned out to be just a coincidence. They'd finished that stage of the job.

Moral: don't think you can make a difference by sending 2 emails.

Bloody mental dreams

Waking up exhausted having fought radiator beasts or whatever it was. I reckon I could have that Tyson in a fight if I shared a bed with him. Bloody pillows all asunder, bloody duvet out the window.

Okay, I'm going to tell you: dreamt I was in an inception-like world on a train going to America via the moon in order to sell blue jam which was going to be the latest thing as no American had ever tasted British jam before. And everyone was a drawing.

AAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH! 

MAKE IT STOP.