I have a claim for my injury from Friday at work. I don't want time off. I just want physio for the stiffness and the pain.
My MIL is cooking some fantastic dish with a kilo of chicken breasts. This is intended to be very nice, but is also sure to make my family think my cooking looks rather poor and stingy ( we are poor and stingy just now) with the meat thereby so prove the MIL's superiority in all matters domestic.

I couldn't find my slacks or my hand embroidered linen tablecloth from the laundry which she had bumped to make room for her wash while I was out at work. It turns out she had hung them up (with the care normally reserved for works of art) in a closet.
Very kind not to just leave them in a pile, but at 6:30 AM, I can't conduct detailed searches into the little used nooks and crannies of my home to find my daily clothing.

My FIL is off his feed. His meds kill his appetite, and he doesn't eat much anyway - few sedintary seniors do. I brought home from the library cookbooks of healthy Heart Smart receipes. One is titled "Deliciously Low" - I like that title!

My own mother is off on a trip to Europe until mid-October. I am just now checking on my own Dad - who has a full tirade of complaints to air. My brother lives with them, and can do nothing right or well for my dad, it appears. Today, anyhow. My bro has a bad back, and I have a new foam pad for him to use for sleeping on the floor.