I knew there had to be some benefit to housework

You might be wondering why there's been a three-week hiatus in my postings here. Well, for the first week, I was off on holiday in the small spa town of Bad Lippspringe. The hotel I found online there when I searched for "Badeurlaub NRW" (swiming holiday NRW) had pools indoors and outside, so, seeing as how a summer holiday involves swimming and walking, I booked a 7-night special offer there.

For seven nights, I managed to sleep 8 hours and enjoyed a nice buffet, all-you-can-eat breakfast and a three-course dinner, laden with cream. (I think the chef must have had shares in a dairy.)

I returned on Monday 29 June, reasonably refreshed, whereupon I rammed my left elbow into the office door handle because I didn't take the time to open the door wide enough. The pain started when I wanted to lie down to sleep. I couldn't. Well, I could sleep (eventually)...just not lying down. And this is still the case.

And then, just to make sure that I knew the meaning of the word 'pain', I hit the lower part of my left arm, just above the wrist, on the same door handle again three days later. The dent in my arm still there.

Ibuprofen 400, aspirin, Voltaren...no help. Two corticosteroid injections in the first week, some help. The best pain relief, however, is a low-tech solution: a pack of frozen vegetables.

Having done a lot of online research, I've learnt that the stupid things I've done to my arm take between 6 and 12 weeks to heal and the best things to do can be summed up by the acronym of RICE: rest, ice, compression and elevation. All things that I am doing. Germans keep urging me to go to the doctor again, but I keep asking, "What can they do for me? Can they give me four weeks in a bottle? These things just take time to heal."

Which leads me to the point about housework. During the day, I have an elbow bandage on the elbow (obviously) and another strap looped over my thumb and wrapped around the wrist. At night time, I take them off.

Yesterday, I woke up and could not for the life of me find the strap for the wrist. I searched the flat three times. Perplexed. Completely. I could only imagine that the fairies were playing tricks on me again. (Fairies are my explanation whenever I can't find something. I swear that they move things round deliberately just to annoy me.)

A bit later, I decided to at least tidy up my bedroom. There were two pairs of jeans on my trunk, and two on the 'floordrobe'. Folding them up neatly and putting them into the wardrobe, I discovered the black strap: in the pocket of one of the jeans, stuffed into it when I took the strap off in the bathroom before washing my face.

You see? Being tidy and clearing up around the home does have its advantages. I'm sure my mother would be proud of me. I just now have to tidy up the office in the hope of finding an old passport I seem to have mislaid. But that's a task for another day. No need to rush these things.