Woke early this morning, having learnt the lesson from yesterday, with a bottle of juice by my bed and painkillers at the ready. Had trouble remembering whether I'd taken three or four lots of co-codamol by the end of the day, so my last one for the day I made ibuprofen, to be on the safe side.
Had another few long phone conversations with the police, the garage, and the insurers, eventually agreeing to put pretty much everything off till Monday. In theory I would be back at work on Monday, (given this is officially my holiday, wheeee!) but given how crappy still I felt whenever I did anything as reckless as standing up I had a feeling that wouldn't be happening anyway. And I had to go back into hospital on Tuesday.
I spent much of today catching up on the last few day's TV, or groaning in bed. I was going to make myself decent for when the groceries were due to be delivered but in the end, unshaven and unbrushed I just pulled a skirt on under my nightie and answered the door like that. I'm sure I must have looked insane but by this point I was well past caring.
They delivered about three times as much sirloin steak as I wanted, policy being apparently to deliver closest size they had no matter what the price difference, which of course they charged me. Nearly nine pounds worth of steak. I had wanted to treat myself, but this was ridiculous. I rang them up and said so and they begrudgingly refunded the difference "as a one-off". I should bloody well think so. I guess my lovely next-door neighbour will get a treat, anyway.
In the course of putting the shopping away I dropped a jar of jam on my already painful foot. They probably heard me scream in Asda. A perfect end to a perfect day.
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