I spend the morning posting links to my latest vlog on social media, and then make the rash decision to wash my car (it’s looking fairly grubby). I intended to wash and polish the outside, and clean the windows, seats, dashboard, and vacuum the inside, but by the time I’ve washed it, I’m flagging. By the time I’ve finished polishing it, I’m practically on my knees. It seems ridiculous that I should be so exhausted from such little effort, but these days washing the car is my pre-Parkinson’s equivalent of running a marathon (not that I ever ran a marathon, but you know what I mean). I collapse onto the sofa to recover, and the dog wants me to take her for a walk, but there’s no chance of that at the moment. My wife arrives home from work and decides to take the dog out and grab some spinach from the allotment at the same time, so that solves that little problem.
I’m feeling guilty because I haven’t done any housework, so (while my wife is walking the dog) I quickly clear away the mess I’ve made with car cleaning gear, and then run the vacuum cleaner around downstairs.