And Now I'm sick....

Oh great. I finished work on Tuesday and on Wednesday went to the doctor about my swollen foot. I spent THURSDAY in Hospital having all kinds of tests (a full MOT as the doctor says). She says she will have some idea how to get rid of the Pitting Edema once she knows what's causing it.

Well, naturally enough, I went to check it out. It could be...

Congestive Heart Disease and the edema is caused by the heart not being able to pump all that fluid so it colects in my leg...

Cirrhosis of the Liver - a bit of a bummer because I don't drink that much so I'd hate to turn into George Best.

Chronic Kidney Failure which means gradual loss of kidney function.

Hyperthyroidism - watch me turn into a zombie

or some other less likely possibilities like lupus and various forms of cancer.

Now I have to wait and see.

Procrastination

Another week has gone by and still I've done nothing. My novel remains unwritten, I have a few posts on the BBC website, I've done very little at work. If Procrastination was an Olympic sport, I could procrastinate for... well, probably for the Beaker People because nobody else would have got round to invading Great Britain.

Whatever

Another day wasted. What did I do? Well, in Championship Manager, I managed to get the sack from Aston Villa but I did win the Scottish League with Celtic, which was nice. My addiction rating is "Just one more game, honest", which suggests a problem, as does the fact that I have managed to write exactly zero pages of my novel today. I really should be ashamed of myself. Like the man says JfDI, Alcuin.

Maybe next week.

Beside that, I was watching the footage of the explosion at Hemel Hemstead, then some football. I must admit, I enjoyed the row between Brad Friedel and Robbie Savage. I wonder if Savage said anything really unforgivable and to his own teammate. After all, this is a character so vile that even Dion Dublin lost his rag with him. Oh yes, and in the same game... Tomas Repka. Does Repka know there's not actually a war on?

Sunday Morning

Like the Velvet Underground say, Sunday mornings are indeed about the wasted years so close behind. As usual, I wake up, still counting those hundred dollar bills that are so much fun to count than sheep. I check it out, did I win the lottery? Oh well, maybe next week.

I look at the work to do on my novel. I have the scenes completely plotted. I just need to write 1-2,000 words for each scene to produce a 150,000 word novel (and this time, it'll work and get published). I don't do it though. I waste another day playing Championship Manager.

This may change in the future though. I bought one of those self help books (for procrastinators like me). When I get round to reading it, I'm sure it will help. It's called JfDI just do it by Nicholas Bate. And yes, the f does stand for what we all think it stands for.

Right

It's Saturday, the BBC has gone to bed long ago and I'm up, awake and blogging. Yeah, that's what I'm doing and I'll do more later but for now, I'm just setting things up.

Later, of course, the time will come to post all sorts of exciting (or at the very least interesting) things that come to mind.