It's Sunday here. The Little Man is playing at his friends. The Good Man is taking his boy home, which all in all, takes about two hours. And I am sitting on my arse again. All I had to do was stay in my wheelchair. Could I manage that? No. Turns out my transferring is not so hot. I'd made myself a drink, and managed to bring it back to the bedroom, without spillage. Ate a pear. Ate a satsuma. Binned the pith, skin and cores. Then fatigue hit me, like a smack in the face with a tennis racquet. So I decided to go back to bed. Good idea. Turns out I was asking too much, and despite determination, I slumped to the floor. Which gave me the opportunity to respond to the WHY? and HOW? questions about this situation. The WHY? is answered quite simply. BASTARD MS that's why. It means that even with my feet flat on the floor, I can't push myself back. So looking and acting like a melting candle, I end up on the floor. And I'm dead chuffed I somehow managed to avoid scrapping my spine against the bed. Whoo hoo! Go me!
Yep, so I'm siting on a hard floor (great for the wheelchair, but rubbish for my arse.)It's cold and it's dark. And that applies to the room, but also how I feel about MS, and also how I feel about my body. My body is an arsehole, that lets me down. Just because I found transferring easy yesterday, does NOT mean I can do it today. And tomorrow, I'll do it perfectly. Maybe. MAKE YOUR FUCKING MIND UP MS! IM FED UP OF NOT KNOWING WHERE I STAND WITH YOU(so to speak)
So the Good Man will get some hoist practice in, when he returns.
I was going to get dressed, and just generally try and look like I'd polished the turd, to a suitable standard. But no. Oh well, never mind. I haven't hurt myself, I'm just cold (despite a blanket) oooh, I've just realised I can reach my bobble hat AND it matches the blanket! Uh oh....the bobble hat is  just out of reach. That's annoying. Never mind. I'll hook it with a coat hanger. TAA DAA!! Success! I can understand how that bloke cut his arm off in that film, 127 hours. If you haven't seen it, please watch it.
And I need to face the FACT that, despite being a grown up, I cannot be left alone. Well, that's what I'll be told. And I agree. Partly. Everyone needs time on their own. I enjoy my own company. Mostly. But I admit that sometimes I'm a bit of a twat. MS is an unreasonable, life stealing C**T. You try living with it. No? Please? Cos I'm done. I'm not ready to check in to Dignitas just yet, but come on!! Where's the fun in this?? I can't even put my own pants on FFS! I remember the days of searching, trying and buying some nice underwear as The Good Man and I were going away and you know......
 Sorry girls........? But anyway.....the cavalry arrived at the same ish time. Girlie number four was attempting to get me in the hoist. She was calm, careful and methodical. Between us we were getting there. Then the Good Man came home with the Little Man, and an impromptu training session began. And I was back in a warm bed in no time. With a flapjack from The little Man. And with a numb bum. But no bobble hat.

My family is pretty awesome. You are brilliant collectively, and individually, and I thank you for being there, and helping me to cope with all MS chucks at me/us.