Lo, another day of torrential rain! So no window-staining for me. Again. Buttons to it.
Today brought further news of the world of work. I have it on good authority that the Megaboss has spoken on the subject of the now-departed Boss’s supposed telecommute from Down Under; a load of bollocks, apparently, and it is further rumoured that the Boss was advised not to let the door hit her arse on her way out, as it were. Nothing from the horse’s mouth, of course, but it is only one remove from said mouth and thus as close as I’m probably gonna get. So we have been left an enormous muddle and there will be no swooping in from halfway round the world to sort it out. Sounds about right!
I also got told, on the QT, what my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something did to get onto the Redeployment List; which list, she was on long enough to nearly be off it again and out the door herself, only suddenly the Boss swept down like a deus ex machina and now she’s… here. The good news: it was not theft from her colleagues’ purses or anything as antisocial as that. Or even backstabbing (a surprise, given the way she’s behaved towards me).
Also interestingly, my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something and my new Cellmate are so far maintaining a friendship, and my Cellmate seems to be – fair play, gently – rebuffing my other colleagues’ attempts at same with her because she appreciates not their attempts to warn her that my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something is a loony.
Of course, between my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something, and myself, guess who looks like the loony. I have accidentally sabotaged that one, and no mistake.
Now, I have a great deal of respect for my new Cellmate already, who has had a life similar to mine except she’s had to claw her way out of (someone else’s) bad debt by her fingernails with two small children in tow. And we share a room. For forty hours a week. If she falls out majorly with my other two colleagues, who have been good to me these many years, over my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something… lo, I sense a potential Schism coming on, two against two, with me right in the sodding middle, oh joy of joys. Pick-a-side time!
And whose side? Well, my Colleague I Suspect Is Up To Something is off sick at the mo and it has just been discovered that she has not been distributing the mail, even before that. So lucky it was that my Colleagues of Cakes and Skull Scarves procured a key to her office and went in to find our payslips; for there was a result sitting there, for the attention of one of my consultants, regarding a patient with the Big C.
Do Not Give her the Mail!, we said to the Guy Who Delivers the Mail.
But right before you guys moved over here to the new building, she specifically told me to bring it to her and nobody else! he replied.
Oh god. Who knows what hasn’t been getting handed over. You do not need that worry on top of everything else that goes on round here.
However. Today was the day of Operation Get A Working Hoover, as well as Operation Halloween Costume. Shame these two things really had to occur in two different places! So after work I walked all the way into town, picked up chocolate face-paint and gold spray-paint and some charcoal pencils why not, and then walked most of the way back. It rained on me in both directions, natch, but once again it was quite nice and bracing and I have tunes to keep me happy and went through the park, skirting puddles and the lethally-slippery carpet of golden leaves.
But six miles is quite a lot with no breaks, especially with the amount of coffee I consume during the day, so I nipped into the church on the hill for an inexpensive glass of red on the way home. And there I sat, as the gloaming gave way to proper darkness, listening to some surprisingly mood-fitting music and pondering my life. Specifically, pondering the way I was only halfway through my mission and had already stopped for a break and whether that made me a Bad Person. And feeling a bit of a pillock, being sat in a bar on me tod.
Then it occurred to me to envisage being sat in a rampantly up-market winebar, as opposed to some sort of pleasantly cheap and candle-lit chain-pub, enjoying a swanky cocktail before being chauffeur-driven to get me new hoover. Would this make me feel markedly more successful? (What if the chauffeur went and got the hoover for me?)
No, it turns out. In fact, I would feel markedly less heroic if I didn’t be completing the ten miles of walking in the rain. So it would appear that, materially at least, I am absolutely hunky-dory with my progress through life.* Believe me, I am shocked by this revelation too.
*(If you don’t count the crippling fear that the washing machine will break down at any minute and I can’t afford a new one. But worse things happen at sea, so I’m told.)
However, in terms of Doing stuff, yes I am still monstrously displeased with my lack of success – especially because I am vain and egotistical enough to believe that if I just gave it more welly I could be a passable artist/ author/ engineer/ kick-arse at all three, dammit.
Alas, I am having difficulty with the welly right now. I can’t even get a friggin window-frame Ronsealed, for godsake!
And on that note, it is time to complete the last four miles of today’s trek. And very therapeutic it was too, stomping through the puddles and darkness and wind; I felt very intrepid and completely at peace. Which is fortunate, because the shopping centre was mobbed, the Argos machine gave me heart-failure by insisting my card was faulty (turned out, the machine was the faulty one) and I got cut up in the queue twice. Quite irritable I was, by the time I got out again, but lo, there was a cab at the rank and the cabbie was very nice and I got home for four quid. Ouch, ouch, the expense, but there it is; the new hoover would have been soaked through had I carried it home. I was already soaked through, myself.
And I had just enough energy to put the boxes down, microwave some dinner I prepared earlier, pull what I have of me Halloween costume so far out of the back of the wardrobe and check it was all there, and stick the washing machine on. Bah! On the plus side, I did find the damn thing in under ten seconds, it being exactly where I remember leaving it, hurrah!
In conclusion: Maybe one cannot be an artistic/ engineering/ writing genius and also work full time and walk everywhere. Or maybe I just need a good slap upside the head.