Monday, February 13, 2017

Not my problem

I woke up on Saturday and discovered that I could not read properly. I have funny little blotches all over the place in front of my eyes so many of the words are missing when I try to read anything. 

This is not necessarily a bad thing because there is simply not much worth reading at the moment that provides comfort to a delicate soul like me. 

But because I can read only half of what I see - I only get half as cross. 

But I must say that I am getting a lot less cross as time moves on. This could well be because Indiana’s behavior is so appalling and so disgraceful that everything else - even the antics of the orange fluffbudgy - pale into insignificance. 

So I spent two hours with the eye doctor today and he concluded after an intense examination that he did not know what was wrong with me so he has referred me to a specialist  - where I go tomorrow morning.

I asked him if I should get new glasses and he said let’s not worry about that at the moment - and I have worried about that statement ever since. 

So I have carried out a brief assessment of the seeing eye dog capabilities of both Georgia and Indiana. 

At the mercy of Georgia I would spend an immense amount of time standing in front of the treat cupboard - and would never leave the house. 

As for Indiana - well with her I would be dragged miles on my stomach - shouting hoarsely for her to stop - as she galloped towards whatever she gallops towards. I have no idea what this is but she always wants to go somewhere and it is always at a gallop. 

And (spare me) she is now bigger than Georgia.

So after we walked them together last week Cate said ‘fuck me I am not doing that again’ or words similar to that 

And if you are wondering how I can write this without being able to see - then I should tell you that I am using one eye - squinting - and my nose is pressed to the screen of computer. 

And the fact that my personal trainer works me like a drover’s dog does not help at all. He says things like ‘this is the last one’ and when I finish and collapse sobbing on the floor he says ‘well just one more set’. 

So after gym I am nearly comatose and then have to deal with the travails of the day. 

So over the last week I have made many bookings for flights and hotels and shuttles and all sorts of things. I could not begin to tell you how hard it is to fly from Indianapolis to Paris if you are traveling Lufthansa. 

Lufthansa flies from JFK. United flies only to Newark. American flies to JFK but only on Shrove Tuesdays when the moon is full. 

So I have to go to Newark and get shuttles to JFK and on the way home I have to stay (shriek) at Newark overnite - but I am not staying in the rat infested hovel where we stayed last time. 

And there is so much to do here it makes my head spin. There are two people in this house - why is the washing machine going 18 hours every day. Where does all this dust come from. Does UPS deliver it in bags and Cate spreads it around the house and then puts her white gloves on and wipes the surfaces - and says hmmmm. 

So I really don't have time for politics. I have accepted the fact that the orange fuckweasel is not my president. I am not a citizen and I did not vote. 

And we will not be here to suffer the consequences of fucknuckle and his band of trogs. 


  1. I’m sure that a little bit more investigation will reveal the identity of “fucknuckle and his band of trogs”. Are they mythical creatures? Would a trog be a blog written by a troll? You guessed right: I was halfway through your blog post when I started to wonder how a fellow with eye problems could write so well. Seriously, Badger, this could be a consequence of stress associated with your Paris trip, or something trivial such as glares due to the arrival of spring sunshine. What I’m trying to say is that there are countless reasons why it might have nothing to do with any kind of serious affliction. On the other hand, it doesn’t sound like a good idea to move to the other side of the Atlantic when you’ve got an eyeful of annoyances of this kind. Why don’t you simply remain calm at home, and relax for a few weeks… up until your eye spots simply disappear ?

  2. Two questions with little in common:

    1. How has your new president avoided getting physically neutralized by somebody who hates his guts?

    2. Does your friend Merisi employ a robot to take the same coffee photos after all these years?

    1. Mr. Skyvington,
      this is Merisi speaking:
      Soon the linden trees will bloom again and I swear I will make the same bad shots again as I have been doing all these years. All by myself, pinky swear!
      Yep, I am a woman of immense talents.
      Sincerely yours,

  3. Mrs. Merisi,
    This is William Skyvington from France speaking. Several weeks ago, when I was worried about Badger’s state, I was saddened to see that his former Viennese friend didn’t even include a link to Pinchgut in her blogroll, let alone comments to his posts. I’ve just checked, and this is still the case. So, my remark about your robotic blogging was intended solely, and deliberately, as a gentle kick in the backside.

    1. *giggles*
      Badger and I are channeling our messages by way of Russia! ;-)
      Badger is still running under "Vienna for Dummies" and updates appear there regularly. In fact, I came here yesterday via my blogroll, even though a different post was announced there (and that title worried me to no end).
      As far as my robotic blogging is concerned, it is a matter of discipline, even survival. Once I stop blogging daily, it will be the end of it, I am afraid.
      Let's hope our friend Badger got good news today, and has been ordered to employ a house and a dog keeper. He is working himself to the bones otherwise.
      Best wishes,