Manic Monday? Try INSANE!

I've had to have a re-jig of my uni units this semester, to include a 2nd core unit that I can't do as easily next

This means that I now only have one 8am start, although it's still Monday. It also means that my already Manic Monday is now a bit more so, with an extra hour's lecture in there. This gives me a 3-hour lecture, a one-hour break, then a one-hour lecture backed up immediately with three hours of tutorials (although the tutes are all in the same place).

It's only one extra hour added in there, but Monday is already just about killing me. However, I then only have one other 2-hour tute on Tuesdays, and then the rest of the week is classes-free.

I can still have my nap in the student bar between classes on Mondays, but it won't be as long! I may also need more boosts from the Lolly Shop....

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Understanding my physical challenges: An analogy

So, I've been trying to come up with a way to explain to a non-disabled person what it's like to face physical challenges at work, as a person with a disability. My current workplace is very physically demanding, even for me, a wheelchair user with long arms, full reach, abdominal muscle control and good balance. After 2.5 years of just getting on with it, despite the inaccessibility of large areas of my workplace, I'm at a point where I'm having to say, 'Enough. I can't do it any more.'. My employer is struggling to understand what's changed. Why is my workplace 'suddenly' inaccessible? What has changed with my health, to make my work so arduous for me now? Here's my analogy*: Imagine that you are looking for a job in the field you have just qualified for. A new employer says, if you move out to our location, we'll give you a permanent job. You just have to be able to carry 10kg. Cool, you think, I can do that. I'll uproot myself...

Dear Cleaner, please don't wash my dishes.

(Warning: contains swearing. You'll see why, I hope.) Considering that I am constantly fighting with piles of dirty dishes in my little kitchen, you'd think that the first thing I'd want my cleaner to do is wash them. And I used to. But I quickly realised that although the dishes moved from the pile, through the soapy water in the sink and to the drainer, the vast majority of them didn't end up being clean. It turned out to be a great big waste of time - and a huge disappointment - and I had to wash the stupid things myself anyway. Mine aren't as pretty, but I do have a yellow bowl. So now I do them myself, eventually. When my cleaner comes, once a fortnight, I'll sit and do my dishes while he or she is doing the housework tasks I find difficult (rather than just annoying). I have also even been known to do a sink full of dishes in between cleaning visits, often in the middle of the night when I can't sleep, or when I have other pressing things to d...

Frustration

I had a particularly bad setback yesterday, after a bit of a mixed week in terms of my diet. I'd been shopping with Dexter in the early afternoon (after spending the previous day and a half in my PJs, too exhausted to function) and he whined and begged for pats from people the whole time (this is the same after any promo event we do which involves pats from the general public). I was frustrated with him already when I got home, but still needed to go over to Coles. I'd bought a food processor (yes, another one; the other one died after one use) and a water filter and went to drop them in and get a new bag before heading over. However, on our way out, rather than shutting the door for me, while I kept Fred inside, Dexter just bolted , absolutely bolted away down towards the ramp (afterwards I thought that there are probably baby possums in the trees, as it's springtime), and Fred followed him. I had to catch Dexter first, as he's the one that can get in the most t...

Compostable Kate

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