Helpful Podiatrist

So, I visited the podiatrist. The last I left off with you guys was I was going to go and get my feet checked out because I was getting shooting pains up my feet when I walked. That obviously wasn’t ideal because I walk to work, so I decided I needed to do the adult thing and fix whatever was going wrong. 

Well, I went to the podiatrist and to help the problem she’s given me common foot care treatments. Close to Cheltenham, there are plenty of places that I can go to buy off-brand foot care treatments, but I wanted to use the treatments that my podiatrist had recommended. So far I’ve noticed a lot of positive results.

The pain has definitely diminished, but it’s going to take some time for my feet to go completely back to normal. I’m fine with that because the pain is very easy to ignore and just feels slightly uncomfortable now, rather than feeling like shooting pains going up my feet. This entire blog post might be too much information, I’m sorry for that. I probably should have labelled it with a trigger warning or something beforehand, but it’s too late now. Hopefully, you guys are okay with reading about the intricacies of my feet. 

During my consultation with the professional foot specialist, I couldn’t help but ask her whether or not I was having these issues with my feet because my parents didn’t get my orthotics when I was a child. She wholeheartedly told me no, and that the pain I was feeling was because of general wear and tear as I’ve gotten older. It was good to put my doubts to rest, and I secretly apologised to my parents in my head for doubting them. 

I’m going to continue doing my foot care treatments and rehab routine for as long as I need. Being able to walk to work without feeling any pain will be absolutely perfect, and it will make me want to work in the office more often. 

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My Son’s Rose

When my son died, my world collapsed. I am a mother of four boys, and now I only have three left. My sons lost their brother and gained a wound on their heart that would never be healed. There will always be an empty spot at my dinner table now, the spot where my darling Sean should be sitting. Losing him has been the worst thing in the world. I would rather be dead and him alive. That’s the way the world is supposed to work. A mother should never bury her child.

When he died, I didn’t want to be sent hundreds of hybrid tea rose varieties that would just sit in my kitchen until they eventually died and then get thrown away. Watching the roses die would have just been a terrible reminder of how long it had been since my son had died. I couldn’t deal with that. I’m barely functioning now and about a month ago I was functioning even worse. 

My sister, though, decided to bend the rule that I had made. She bought me a beautiful rose plant that wouldn’t die. It wasn’t just a bunch of flowers. It was something that I could plant in my garden and look after. She told me she bought it so that I would have a reason to get out of bed every day. Even if I just got up to water it and then went back to bed, I had achieved something. I have watered the rosebuds every day since she gifted them to me. I’m so grateful for her.

I’m still coming to terms with the fact that nothing I can do will bring my son back. It’s my job to be there for them, even when I’m struggling to be there for myself. I don’t know how any of us are going to recover from this. I don’t know how life keeps going when our worlds have stopped, but it does. I need to keep going for my boys, and for Sean.

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Unfortunate aging signs

 

Has anyone else noticed that everything goes downhill with age? As I’ve gotten older I’ve started noticing all these gross changes. My lower back is constantly sore and I’m always needing to stretch it out regardless if I’m spending my day seated or standing. I’ve also noticed all these strange moles and freckles appear on my body which I must admit, I find unsightly. Weight-wise all I need to do is look at a cake and suddenly I’ve gained about four kilos. Don’t even get me started on my feet. I used to have soft and silky feet. Now they’re covered in hard corns and callouses. I have no idea why that has happened. It’s not like I’m some barefoot caveman who runs around daily on rough surfaces. I’m usually in loafers or some sort of sandal! I’ve also noticed my feet experience a lot more pain as I age. I used to laugh at women older than me when they’d say that they struggle to wear high heels, but boy do I get it now. My arches absolutely kill me! I’ve had to purchase some nice but albeit lower and more versatile shoes. Since doing this I have noticed that the pain has definitely eased.

I’ve booked an appointment with a highly recommended podiatry clinic near Cheltenham to take a look at the corns on my feet. They’re not causing me any pain but I know that they’re there and I find them absolutely unsightly to look at so I would like to see if there’s a solution. I wonder if anyone else I know experiences them. I haven’t heard any of my friends mention they have corns on their feet but then again, they definitely haven’t heard me speak of it either. Perhaps it’s something that is totally normal but no one talks about it so no one realises how normal it is. I would love to know why I get them so I could pinpoint a solution. Does anyone else get them? Does anyone have any solutions?

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Psychic Gorilla’s Car

I’ve been trying to get out of these woods for ages now, but nobody seems willing to give a lift to a gorilla. I’m definitely going to miss that kid’s birthday party. If only I knew how to communicate with humans properly. What hand signals do they use to ask for a lift? Am I even capable of giving such hand signs, with my big gorilla hands? I felt like I got close with that guy driving through here yesterday, but even with me sitting on a tree he didn’t bother to pull over and ask what was going on. Because of my psychic powers, I knew everything about him except how to get him to pull over. He was wondering whether I was even real and whether he’d need a car air conditioning service, in case the air being pushed out was warping his mind.

I’ve been stuck here for about a week now. My car broke down at the edge of the woods, while I was on my way to Chucky’s birthday party. I don’t know how long human birthday parties last, but I assume I have probably missed it at this point. Even so, I’ll continue holding on to these balloons just in case. Oh, if only I could get my car to a mechanic in the Frankston area. If only someone would give me a lift! While I can type perfectly well in English on my phone, I can’t actually speak the language. And unfortunately, reading thoughts doesn’t help me communicate much.

There haven’t been many people driving through these woods, and the few that have, tried to ignore me. Both of those young women driving through here were thinking about how they wanted to get as far away from me as possible because they didn’t want to miss their Christmas party. Why does everybody assume that I mean any sort of harm? I’d never want to hurt a human. I just want a lift to Chucky’s birthday party!

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Lighting Car

I’m working on something really big. I shouldn’t talk about it here, but I just can’t help it. I’m so excited that I have to get this off my chest. You’re probably wondering what I’m talking about, and why I’m taking so long to get to it. The truth is that I’m building suspense. Can you feel the suspense? What’s that? You think the suspense could be stronger? Well, in that case, I’ll keep going. I’ll give you a hint. My big project has something to do with engine diagnostics. Except it really doesn’t. How does it have something to do with engine diagnostics, but also not? You’ll soon find out. And if I do say so myself, I think you’ll be very impressed with my research. Oh, I shouldn’t have spoiled that it had research involved. I suppose I might as well come out and say it then.

I have discovered a new way to harness energy, similar to solar power. Recently, I was on my way to a mechanic near Queanbeyan, when I heard on the radio that certain solar panels can gather as much energy as a single bolt of lightning, which got me thinking: why haven’t we turned lightning bolts into electricity we can use yet? So, I got to work building a prototype electric vehicle. I call it the Lightning Harnessing Car of Doom! Why ‘of doom’? Well, I just thought it sounded cool. It’s not a device I’m going to use to take over the world or anything like that. I’m not an evil scientist. 

The idea is that this lightning rod will be placed at the highest point of the vehicle. When the lightning is pulled toward it, a machine will be powered which transfers the energy into the electricity we know and live. I don’t know why this hasn’t been thought of before. It’s genius! When we have lightning-powered vehicles worldwide because of my invention, you can thank me directly, right on this blog.

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The Engine Mailbox

Being a mailbox designer has its perks. For one, I get a really cool mailbox. The best one I’ve ever made, in fact. My new mailbox is made of pure bronze, shining in the sun like a lighthouse to guide the mailman. I’ll always get my mail because all the delivery person has to do is remember that the shining, horribly bright letterbox belongs to Jimmy Parsley. I’ve made some incredible letterboxes over the years, but this easily beats them all. Even the car-themed letterbox I made for that auto mechanic gets left in the dust when compared to my brilliant brass box. 

That was an interesting project, now that I think back on it. A real challenge. Probably one of the biggest challenges I’ve had in my career. It was like moving through a field packed with barrels of nuclear waste. One wrong step and you’d be suffering for the rest of your life for it. See, this was early in my career, and I’d never taken on something quite so ambitious as making a mailbox out of a car engine. My entire reputation was on the line. Despite the pressure, I managed to get the job done, with a five-star review from my client. Now, whenever I need it, he’ll give me complimentary wheel repair. It’s hard to find a mechanic offering quality wheel repair near Adelaide, so I really appreciate that. 

The only mailbox I had a harder time completing was the one made entirely out of chocolate. A chocolate mailbox wouldn’t be that hard to create, except that Miss Woolington wanted the mailbox to remain intact even on a forty-degree day. I had to make sure the chocolate was somehow heat-proof and didn’t stick to letters. Essentially an impossible task. Miss Woolington is half-blind, though, so I just made the letterbox out of dark oak wood and hoped she wouldn’t notice. I figure she hasn’t worked it out yet, otherwise she’d probably slash my tyres. Then I’d really need that tyre and wheel repair.

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Kitchen Design Crossword

I’ve been really struggling with this crossword puzzle. Seven across in today’s Daily Evil Scientist. The word consists of eleven letters. The hint is “Plural for modifying or restoring something to excellent quality, particularly of buildings”. The third letter is n and the tenth letter is also n. I don’t know. I’m really stumped on this one. Who designs these puzzles anyway? How am I supposed to know every word in the English language? Sure, all the words might be related to kitchen installation for evil scientists, but that could still cover so many possible words. It just doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why they ever got rid of the daily sudokus. These crosswords are terrible.

Okay, apparently the answer was renovations, which I don’t know how they expected me to guess. Maybe if these hints were written well enough, I wouldn’t have such massive problems with the crosswords. To be perfectly honest, I’m not even sure why they have such strange themes for them, either. Kitchen installation? What does that have to do with being an evil scientist? Sure, I might be in the market for a high-quality kitchen design near Melbourne, but that is as a citizen of Victoria, not an evil scientist. 

Correct me if I’m wrong, but kitchens don’t really have anything to do with villainous science. That is unless the kitchen has giant saw blades used to trap the girlfriends of superheroes. I’ve done something like that to City-Man’s girlfriend before. She didn’t really appreciate it, but she did comment on how it was more original than the alligator-filled pit trap. No, this newspaper has really gone downhill since it was bought by that giant news corporation. Perhaps it is time I cancel my subscription because while I’m interested in kitchen design, that’s not what I want to see out of the Daily Evil Scientist. If I wanted to see some cool kitchen designs, I’d just search the internet for them.

– Dr Big Brain

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No More Houses

Recently, I came to the startling realisation that I don’t like living in a house. No, I don’t like it one bit. I don’t like carpets, I don’t like tiles, and I certainly don’t like walls. Living in a house is just so boring. You wake up in the morning and look at the same old features and furniture. Wouldn’t you rather be out in the wild, experiencing a new grassy field or forest every day? I think I’m going to go camping for the rest of my life. Of course, my partner thinks I’ve lost my mind, and that all we need is a few renovations to get the house looking new. Admittedly, a bathroom renovation certainly wouldn’t be out of place, but I really do just think that living amongst nature is the best way to go. We’ll be hunter-gatherers. I’m sure the kids won’t mind that since they’d be out of school.

New baths, new showers, new kitchen bench? I don’t think any of that is necessary when you wake up to fresh air and mosquito bites. Maybe I’ll buy a hot air balloon and go up high in the sky. I’ll be free as a bird! Nobody will be able to stop me. Then again, I have always wanted to look into kitchen renovations from a Melbourne business, because there are some quality kitchen designers in the area. 

Oh, I don’t know. One part of me thinks that perhaps Taylor could be right. What if I just need a fresh coat of paint and a new stove? But the other part of me longs to escape the mundane life caused by living in a house. I’ve been living in a house ever since I was a kid. Like someone who has been in the same job for forty years, they inevitably want a change of some kind. What if this is my midlife crisis? Well, if it is, I certainly don’t want to end up homeless because I got this crazy idea that I needed to live with nature. Perhaps I’ll sleep on the idea before deciding anything for sure.

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Conveyancing Blues

Red stairs of clay lead up to this conveyancing firm. There is a black fence on the left side, and a wall of brown and orange bricks on the left. I am afraid to step between them, and so I remain on the footpath, looking up at this intimidating building. The doors, a mere fifteen feet away, look like they are made of that army green metal that reminds me, for whatever reason, of a hospital, or perhaps a church. Flanking the doors are two sections of wall, built from that same brown and orange pattern of bricks just to my right. These walls are only a metre and a half long, the edges of which stick out even further, forming a shallow alcove of sorts.

When I searched for a conveyancing business around Clifton Hill, this wasn’t exactly what I had been expecting. They’re well regarded in the local community, so I suppose there is no real reason to be intimidated. And yet, I find that I can’t step further, so I remain at the bottom of the clay stairs, staring up at the five sets of windows with that army green metal frame, matching the front doors. Behind them are white curtains that look as if they have been recently cleaned. Should that put my mind at ease? A conveyancing firm that cleans its curtains regularly must be professional. But would I be better with different lawyers for conveyancing? Cheltenham conveyancers might be more inclined to clean their curtains less frequently. In the end, does it really make a difference?

Ultimately, how does curtain condition or even building appearance affect how knowledgeable and professional a conveyancing business is? I’m sure they could arrange for a sale of property or walk me through a contract. What am I so worried about? I really should just walk in there and tell them that I have an appointment. Then I’ll be well on my way to selling my house

Then again, maybe my current house really isn’t that bad…

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Angry At Advocates

I’m. So. ANGRY! I’ve been trying to buy a house for over two years and it is the most frustrating, disheartening and time-consuming thing in the world. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve been beaten at auction, usually by a buyer’s advocate in Hawthorn. The suburb seems to be full of them, and full of people who don’t want to do the hard work themselves, instead, letting someone else do it for them. It’s really annoying. Surely people want to fight their own battles. I’m determined to fight mine and beat a buyer’s advocate where it hurts. 

I was actually really upset about it for a long while. I was upset that people weren’t doing any work and beating me in getting a house that could be my dream house. For a long while, I felt like a victim, but now I’ve channelled that sadness into rage and determination. I will beat a buyer’s advocate at their own game, regardless of whether I actually want the house or not.

I’d love to see the look of despair on the face of a buyer’s advocate in Armadale or wherever it is that I end up beating them. It will make the last two years of pain worth it. I’d love to be able to call up the people that they’re advocating for and tell them that they lost. It would be an even better feeling than actually stepping into my very own home for the first time. It would mean the world to me to know that I finally got my revenge on the people that caused me so much pain for so long.

Like I understand that they’re people and they’re advocating for people, but I think that people should advocate for themselves. Seriously if you want something you have to fight for it yourself. I don’t believe in doing it the easy way and I don’t respect people that don’t.  

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