I wish I could help them…
But I live in another country. My father is anemic, his girlfriend is recovering from surgery and still has to help him.
The doctor sent my father to the hospital but they sent him back home the next day. Now we have to wait until Monday for the doctor to do something.
Posted as part of six word saturdays
We Portuguese tend to think our burocracy is really terrible and that everywhere else in the world it is simpler and works perfectly ( at least in developed countries).
And then yesterday I got a text from France, from my stepmother, telling me the application we submitted for my father to receive in-home assistance might be refused.
Because pages are missing from the application they say. And they ask, among other things, for their property taxes when they rent their apartment.
So apparently they were undergoing renovations and got their files mixed up. And we will probably have to submit a new application and wait 3 more months for an answer.
Drats… No construction workers around today…
They are doing renovation work in my building and as they were drilling a hole upstairs they accidentally opened a hole in my kitchen’s ceiling.
When I complained they told they would fix it when I was home. Unfortunately, they didn’t come this Saturday…
Other six word stories here.
It probably wasn’t the wise thing to do, what with the cold weather and the huge cough I have been having this last week, to go drawing by the riverside yesterday morning. I almost gave up, in fact.
But I guess like some other people say, you get addicted not only to sketching, but also to the people, the chats we have while we are drawing.
It was a happy morning indeed.
That was one of the proposals of Saturday’s workshop. And even though I am a big fan of paper, I am all for getting outside of your comfort zone. And I have been practising almost every day. At least it I light weight and people don’t notice you are drawing, they probably think you are playing a game or something.
But I still favour pen and paper.
There are people here after all.
We got at Morille around 5pm, and there was nobody on the streets apart from other playbackers coming to the Iberian gathering. We were wondering: is this a ghost town?
Posted as a part of six word saturdays