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Woo hoo, I'm writing downstairs! At last I have a laptop in the living room, rather than my bedroom. It's still a big mess in here so no pics yet, but I have hopes of getting some furniture shifted tomorrow. We need a lampshade and I discover that I absolutely do not give a shit. I don't like the bare bulb hanging down, but, man, I look at what's on offer and can only think, yes, I'll have one of those, any one, you choose, don't care, so not interesting.

Today ended better than it started - I'm so close to the edge of the unravelling right now and managed to generate bucketloads of doom and gloom about how we would find ED. She was fine. Silent, as usual, but with a real smiley peacefulness about her. SIL was there, which made it a bit easier as we could chat to him and she listened, rather than struggling in the silence that often develops. He's refused to insure the wheelchair van - well, refused in effect, by giving me a load of bullshit about insurance, so it's going into my name and I'll have to cough up to insure it. He's a tight motherfucker, that's for sure, driving about in his £80,000 car, telling me what he can't afford.

I haven't managed to apply for that training course, stuck at writing the personal statement, where you have to sell yourself. I've only ever done one formal job application, for my first teaching post, where I stayed for years and years. Then I did supply, where they just want to know you're qualified and don't have a criminal record, and from work I did then I was offered other jobs without formally applying. So I have no idea how to do this. Also, I'm not sure I do want to work with mental health service users. We're all a bit unpredictable and some of us are totally intransigent about issues that seem weird, or prone to over-sharing (which I do here rather than in real life). I only manage myself at singing and art group by knowing that I can walk away when I need to, which does happen. So I'm leaning towards not doing it. The application has to be in by Wednesday, which is the day I go for this scan for bladder cancer. Man. I kind of feel that if I could get that out of the way, either I'll be going proper mental, or I'll have the all clear and be able to think rationally about whether I want to do this or not. I may end up scribbling a load of shit on Tuesday night and posting it through the letterbox by hand on Wednesday morning. Or not.

I am grateful for: ED's smiley face; Bloke driving us there and back; finally being able to use all the rooms here; acupuncture tomorrow - I missed it last week and can feel the difference, much flakier; the wind's died down a bit

sweet dreams, dear peeps xxx

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