happy Yuletide. Now let us never mention any of this again

Today, everyone at work was really sympathetic about the Sums. But it’s hard knowing how many mm are in a cm when you’re used to feet and inches! they said. Aww bless – but that was the easy bit! It’s the cubing things and the dividing by pi squared and – hell, even that ain’t difficult, I should be doing this in my sleep! Instead, I am royally sucking!

And how – I am stressing about everything, too tire to focus and yet there is no time for sleep! I just want to curl up and hibernate! Since I don’t dare, however, I am compromising by spending the last two hours of every evening hiding under a pile of dressing gowns and playing Civ, thus achieving neither sleep nor getting Stuff Done.

Still, I have lots to hide from. My brain is not focussing because it’s doing a flamenco dance while singing the name of the devastatingly gorgeous guy who told me on Saturday that he so would, only he can’t. (Doesn’t that so sound like a put-off, now I think about it? I swear, in this case, it honestly wasn’t – in which case, if it was, I will look utterly stupid). And even if I am correct, this is still not Great news. For months, every Friday, I have raised a glass of something to the Daily Deities, which in this case would be the goddesses of Love* and thanked them profusely for not Smiting  me mightily with a stupid crush on someone. Unfortunately, this seems to have brought to their attention that they have been dreadfully remiss of late and Smote me with one anyway. Also, it has kicked around my brain for months and I have been dreadfully remiss too, because I haven’t noticed.

(*And Angus Og.)

At least this will be good for something! I thought at work; because my Colleague of Empty Kettles is off to that other hospital again and I was honour bound to pick up all the urgent cancer patient dictation that is languishing on her desk. Sadly, her room is locked, so when that guy from Records (the one I have previously had Problems over the Muffins with) showed up and got in, I nipped in after him to grab some work. Sure enough, he promptly started in with the same old tale that all the muffins Were For Him because he is Special to me (dude, you are MARRIED, how many times do I have to say it, and even if you weren’t, I still wouldn’t, so stop trying to fabricate the appearance of an office romance where there is none!)

This time, however, I saw my perfect opportunity to get shot of the whole saga and informed him that I have a Requited Crush, So There. Oh, is he good-looking? he said bitterly. Yes, yes he is. He wanted a description so I gave one in glowing terms, emphasising all the ways the devastatingly gorgeous one looks nothing at all like him (this sounds so harsh, but really, I had just twigged I had run into an unchaperoned room after the guy and actually, this did not look so good either). OH, so he’s short! he said, seizing on this (possibly because I can see over the top of his head and all). So, you have a thing for guys you can physically dominate, right?

Oh fuck right off, Muffin Man, that was staggeringly inappropriate and we are never having a conversation ever again.

God, I dunno, you eliminate all the nonsense from your personal life and it just crops up in the office instead!

In conclusion: after the world’s least convincing Yuletide celebrations, it was right back to that question about the height of the column, for the third day running. MAN I suck at this.


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in occasionally observant, please don't fire me, so much for plan b, the fear of all sums. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s