Remember me being a smart arse about a cocktail bar launch party that kicked off at 8.30pm on a week night?
I asked the PR woman if she had the time wrong.
Seriously, 8.30pm on a school night? That’s pyjama time.
Well, the event is tonight and because I engaged with her – and was a smart arse – I feel obliged to go.
I know, I need to work on saying no. I’ll do that after the Mediterranean Diet.
Events at 8.30pm are a hassle for many reasons.
Number one: I am old and that’s too late to start doing something. It should be the finish time.
Number two: I finish work at 5.30pm, what am I supposed to do until 8.30pm? There’s only so long someone can linger over dinner.
Number three: what do I do about the dogs? Do I dash home and let them out for a wee or do I stay in the city after work and prepare myself for a bodily fluid apocalyse when I get home?
When I returned from my weekend away on Monday morning I was greeted by a trifecta of poo, wee and puke because the eldest had forgotten to let them out. Joy.
I still haven’t decided what to do about the doggo issue.
My sister has kindly agreed to keep me company in the city. She is taking me out for a belated birthday dinner then we will go to the cocktail thingy – briefly – together.
In other news, I had some unsettling medical advice last night from DD’s sister in law. She is a fancy specialist in the UK and is currently visiting him. She said it didn’t sound like I have S 1, 2 or 3 nerve issues and she thinks it’s probably some sort of disc problem.
That is annoying because it means my foot pain and hip pain might be totally unrelated. I seem to be piling on the health issues. Old age is a terrible thing.
So I think I will stick to complaining about my hip to the doctor tomorrow and ask for an MRI without mentioning the pain in my foot and my wild theories about it.
I can bring that up while we are discussing the MRI results.
Between the late cocktail bar opening tonight and the early doctor’s appointment tomorrow I don’t think I will have time to blog, so have a great weekend and I will give you the lowdown on Monday.
Song of the day: Carole King “It’s too late”
housegoeshome 
Tell the GP EVERYTHING. You don’t know what’s connected, neither does anyone else until it’s all assessed. Let someone who has spent their life training decide what you need. Plus, maybe you get it all done in one go and don’t have to go back for another version of the same scan, which could happen. Let it all out. What have you got to lose?
I told her everything, you were right. The toe was vital information