I spoke too soon. Today the bed was to be delivered. When the men arrived they said they could not get the bed up the stairs past the inclinator, or stair lift. Apparently mattresses may not be bent - the manufacturing process has changed and if the mattresses are bent, they break. So all my activity was for nothing. The bed has been taken back to the warehouse, and there have been phone calls to and fro. When Dr P woke up from his morning nap and enquired about progress, I had to tell him the bad tidings. Consequently his good humour and tolerance has vanished, and yet again he is grumpy, and declares the purchase of the bed to be both stupid and unnecessary. Yet again I feel defensive and incompetent. And somewhat cross, along the lines of 'why does everything have to happen to me?' and VERY disinclined to tolerate criticism from Dr P. Why does everything have to turn into a problem?
Never say die. I telephoned the firm who installed the inclinator, explained the problem and asked what could be done. They said they would get back to me. I waited and waited, and finally rang them again, and discovered that Yes, they could. The next exciting installment is scheduled for Tuesday - another week to wait. Now the department store is talking about it costing me an extra delivery charge. Perhaps an arm or a leg? Oh yeah?
Temporary anaesthesia and amnesia might not do any harm at all. Who needs to be conscious, and to have to remember all this sort of thing? It needs to be obliterated from the memory. No wonder there was so much wishful thinking about waving magic wands. Of course, men historically have indeed have magic wands. They are called wives. So useful to have someone to blame. As well as to do all the work.
