Just because I'm unemployed with no money and the threat of repossession and eviction looming, doesn't mean I shouldn't have stuff to do.
I can check my e-mails and look for jobs at Jobchange, book doctor's appointments, volunteer and stuff.
So I did.
I've been offered a position on a course at a local (very, very local) radio station. The basics on how to "drive" a desk, record a small piece and edit it using Adobe Audition and get involved with the News Team.
It starts next week and I'm looknig forward to going.
After the meeting with the Training Manager, I went for a walk and bided my time before I went for my ultrasound scan.
I booked this after one of the most painful weeks I've ever had.
Close your eyes boys, it's going to be girl talk from on.
This is a pain which has been getting worse ever since I came off the Dianette. About a week or so before my period I get a sharp pain in one or the other side.
Once, it was so bad, I mistook it for appendix pain and went off to the doctors for an emergency appointment.
That last fortnight before I was let go from the West Bromwich warehouse, the pain was astonishing.
Not just in my side but everywhere.
It hurt to bend forward, sideways, stretch back or to the side, it hurt to go to the toilet, breath or sit still. It hurt to get out of my chair, it hurt to get into my chair and at it's worst, there was a warm, stinging pain going up my back when I went to pee.
If I hadn't known what was causing it, I would have been terrified.
So I described this to the doctor when I next went to an appointment and she booked me in for an ultrasound.
I wandered around Wolverhampton's West Park filling myself with water and fizzy pop and was desperate for the toilet by the time I got to the doctors' surgery.
The park is well maintained but it's no Kew Gardens. There are flower beds, a band stand, a pond, a bridge over the pond, paths round the bloody pond tea rooms and a conservatory.
This is a very small greenhouse with the kind of plants which look like they grew too big for someone's windowsill. Different colours of wandering Jew, coleus, begonias, cacti and even a few parlour palms.
Like I said it's no Kew Gardens.
The sun was shining, the pond was stinky, there were rowing boats, ducks, geese and and a collection of winos all in or around the pond. And a long walk back to the doctors' surgery on the other side of town.
The problem with having an pelvic ultrasound is the fact that you need to have a full bladder for the scan to go well.
It was a fine balancing act. Usually, they're running a little late. I could not sit there for too long with a bladder that was about to explode and wait for the scan, so I arrived a little late hoping that I'd arrived just in time to hear my name being called.
No such luck.
20 minutes later, I was called in and invited to "hop up" onto the examination couch.
I don't know about you, but those couches, benches and chairs are far too high to "hop on" to. I'm very short and, with the added bonus of a straining bladder, hopping onto the bench just wasn't going to be an option.
I heaved myself very gently onto the paper towel - this promptly ripped and skewed out from under me.
I undid my jeans, pulled them down and the nurse covered my huge belly with gel. She then set about running the probe over my straining bladder as if she were deliberately trying to get me to wet myself. It was excrutiating.
She asked me a few questions and then told me it was over. I don't know what the final report is going to look like, but her notes started with "NAD".
That tends to mean "no abnormalities detected".
I didn't argue. I was off to find a toilet. Then I went home again until it was time to see the doctor.
She was okay. Her babies are learning to talk. Aaaaaaah.