CBF

All posts tagged CBF

Today’s Lunch – 20th February 2019

Published February 20, 2019 by helentastic67

Todays Lunch

Today’s Lunch

Good Mental Health Day

I confess today I’m dealing with a little depression, or sometimes as I like to call it CBF! I have both depression and anxiety. It’s not that crippling variety that most people suffer but the type that hums along in the back ground. The type I find I have to remind people that it’s there behind the smile I paste on my face and it’s often when I need to solve a problem around my home that can’t be taken care of with funding. It’s when I remember fondly the days I worked and would just go buy the thing or things I needed and just tighten the belt a bit later.

CBF 1

The sales guy in the Freedom asked my budget? I hate that question so I usually respond with “an amount I can ask from my father without his head exploding” Which means he quotes me the base-level.

Shopping

Sometimes when I’m advocating my needs to family to help me solve certain problems it’s painful when as an independently living 46-year-old woman. All I should need to just name a figure and ask if they want it paid back over time or can it be a gift? Needing to explain the whole backstory and what I have done to attempt to solve the problem and how it’s impacting on my health, comfort and wellbeing is another level.

Independant Woman

I know these awkward conversations are never looked forward to and in the back of my mind I’m always wondering if my laptop will die or my iPad or phone and those things will be far more important and should I just suck it up and live with my cat-pee smelling couch? I am a little immune to it but it still sometimes comes back in waves and getting a rib put back in the other day by the osteopath is reminding me how I’m sitting on my couch cannot be helping!

Asking for money

So, on a better note, here’s today’s offering. Doing something different today. This pork thing (I didn’t get the name) it’s like a pork schnitzel with lettuce and mustard with a side salad and my medicine!

Pork SchnitzelLatte

Toot

Published January 21, 2019 by helentastic67

toot

Toot

As you may recall the last place, I lived I was in a unit, I was the front unit in a small block of three. What was so good about it was that apart from feeling like I lived in a house, complete with three bedrooms, a real laundry, a small backyard and a linen cupboard. But what was particularly good was I had street frontage.

street frontage 1

I could sit on my couch and see when the landlady came down with her secateurs and dead headed the roses. I could see people walk their dog’s past and stop to smell the roses. Part of the reason why I never picked the roses to bring them inside was because I could watch people appreciate them, from my couch and it also meant I discovered my garden hose cut by something sharp, I could tell it was likely my landlady who was insisted I not use the garden tap, telling me they paid for it.

smell the roses

Ironic, I don’t miss her and her ‘Handsy’ husband. However, the point being, is that when I had the CBF’s (Can’t be Fucked) to leave the house, I would stay in bed, but look out the window and see that I wasn’t alone, even if I didn’t want to go out and be a part of the world.

cbf

I remember a downside was the 50 something, man child who still lived at home, who parked outside my bedroom window. About six metres from my window and across the front lawn. The footpath, then the nature strip. (But still) and he would go out to warm his engine at 6am every friggin morning and he wouldn’t do it once, but several times. Every morning. I wanted to scream at him.

man child

“Dude! Your car is old, but it’s not vintage” now you know said ‘Man-Child’ was Greek. Because they are.

old car parking

But the main cool thing about having a street frontage was that most days there would be a car that drove past and tooted. Now, I didn’t know who was doing the tooting for ages and having lived in Clifton Hill years ago, opposite some low-rise Public Housing (don’t start me). Apparently, the norm is when visiting someone in Public Housing, you pull up in your car out front and toot your horn. None of this getting out, going in and using the doorbell. Don’t be ridiculous.

honking

So, I had presumed (note: Avoidance of the word assume) that some lazy ass was saying hello to the wogs across the street without stopping.

lazy ass

It was a very fair assessment, trust me. So, the tooting horn continued, I have to give it to my carers who seemed to appreciate my frustration.

frustration

Until one day, I mentioned it to Aunty Christine and she growled at me “THAT’S ME”. What? Apparently, Aunty Christine would go past and toot a hello every other day, would have been helpful if I’d known this.

thats me

From then on, when I’d hear it, I’d turn to my carer in residence and point outside to say ‘That’s Aunty Christine’. Sometimes, she would later report a guy across the street looking strangely at her ass she drove past. So, she would just give them a dismissive wave. As if they were meant to know she was doing the 5 quick toot salute to Helen? Priceless.

dismissive wave

The downside is I now live on a very busy corner in an apartment and no more tooting.

no more tooting

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