Tuesday, 2 September 2014

Scary - Strange - Sly - Super - Silly


I "hate"  (strongly dislike) using my CPAP machine.  I feel so very uncomfortable when I  wear the face/nose mask.

I do so "for my own good" (As my Mum used to say when administering a noxious and Physician prescribed "tonic" [heavy in iron]  "this is for your own good")

My Sleep Doctor tells me that this mask must be bound tightly to my face.  I am obedient to his orders.

Last Friday I placed the mask on my face for my own good.  In a semi-drowsy state I determined that I should increase the air pressure. 

I thought that I was doing this.

In fact I was turning the damn machine off.

SO the mask was bound tightly to my face, but it was not delivering any air. In fact it was restricting my ability to breath.

There were consequences in my dream life.

I had a weird and scary dream in which my Mum had purchased an expensive antique map of Norway, only to discover that the map was a fake.

I tried to warn Mum, but my dream did not allow this. A priest kept blocking my way to her.

Then the dream  moved to a place in which  I saw an old friend of mine  (long since dead) shot dead.  I tried to do something about it I was bound tightly in blankets  by some enemy.  I pleaded with the "enemy" saying "let me go, I want to see my Mum".

Then I woke up, all entangled in my blankets, and gasping for air.  Deeply gasping for air, and terrified by what I had dreamed.

It was another experience of dreadful and dangerous sleep apnea and the use of CPAP machines::  i.e. " dammed if you do and damned if you don't"

CPAP machines anyone?
Joy is a neighbour who lives across the pond from me.  She is eighty-something. She walks every morning.
Joy is very fond of my dog Penne.  The feeling is mutual.
When we meet,  Joy greets me as John.  That indeed is my first name, the one I use with my family members in the U.K, .  but not in the USA, where I am known as Michael, ( my middle and preferred name).
The  name John is not published as my first name in our Condo. Directory.  So "why the heck" does Joy use it?
Who am I to know?   I haven't a clue. 
But I will never correct Joy. 
My senior cat Adelaide is utterly sly.
Each morning and evening I set out wet/canned food for her and for  junior cat Ada 
Adelaide gobbles her food.  Ada eats a bit and saves some for later. 
 Knowing this,  I set out Adelaide's food in the kitchen  where she consumes it in haste, and I set out Ada's food on the lanai for her to consume at her leisure.
Greedy and sly Adelaide has figured this out.  She thinks that she is very smart, so she enters the lanai, and slinks around  its  perimeter -  thinking that I will not see her as she raids Ada's dish.
Of course I see this, and with a click of my fingers  I "order" Adelaide away from Ada's "leftover"  foods.

I had a wonderful Anglo-American brunch last Sunday at the home of my friends Jack and Donna.  Jack, the chef,  served French toast - made from his home made banana bread - with strawberries and whipped cream (the American bit), alongside imported English bacon, sausage and black (blood) pudding  (the Anglo bit).

The blood pudding was superb.


Our mutual friend Muriel stopped by after lunch last Sunday for coffee and a chat.

Donna noticed that I have new glasses.

She said  "they make you look very intellectual".

Quick as a flash Muriel responded  "well he had to do something".



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