Snowy Surgery

My GP's office, with the pretty redundant warning in the window...

Because I Don't Have One Yet...

Here's a photo of my GP's surgery.  I've been coming here for six years now, and in the last year and a half finally saw a GP who bothered to do more than treat just my symptoms.  Yay for that. 

It's been a good 'un, this surgery.  And yes, here that means doctor's office. 

Le Cough

I've been taking this pretty green stuff that Kristianna helped my buy last year in Paris when I also had cough and chesty throaty congestion.  It works a treat, and tastes nice and minty! 

Not that I'm glad to be coughing.  I'm ready to be done with that.

Brrrrrr.

So I have somehow managed to unravel a bit of my left calf muscle (muscles, actually) where they join the tendon.  No idea how I managed that, but it's been hurting me all. week. long.  After doing all the usual stuff for strains (of which I am all-too-used to, as I'm a clutz), after four days it was no better.  So yesterday I went to the GP about it, which is where I found out it's a wee bit frayed.  And that it wasn't dumb of me to go in about it, after it not getting better--which is nice to hear, because I am such a worrier by nature that I often worry I'm worried for no good reason.  Anyway.  She told me yesterday to go straight home and put my leg up and ice it 30 minutes out of every hour. 

What?!  No way.  I had plans yesterday, which included coffee with one friend, and McDs with another.  Plus I had to get the prescription she gave me... and by the time I was that far, it wasn't any further into town...

Yeah, I pretty much disobeyed the GP. But today, I'm obeying.  This is my handy-dandy homemade gel pack:  washing-up liquid.  It's not the good kind (here, that's Fairy, but I do sorely miss Dawn...), but the cheap-o kind.  Still, it works.  It's cold, it gets mushy as it thaws so it moulds to me, and it doesn't drip water everywhere.  I hear putting a little liquor in with it makes it even better, but I'm not about to waste good alcohol. 

Thirty minutes of every hour is a dang long time.  Especially when it's already chilly in here.  Brrrrr!

An Open Letter to This Dang Cat

Dear Dillinger,

I realise you are named after an outlaw.  A dangerous outlaw, who didn't hesitate to hurt people.  However, you are not an outlaw.  And you are not allowed to hurt people whenever you want.  Yet you seem to think that's okay.  If you want to continue snuggling up next to me, in my lap, or anywhere near me, you need to put away the sharp objects.  Otherwise, I'll have to banish you. 

Thanks,
Amie