companionship versus efficiency

Finally, a day where things got done! Insufficient things, true, but some things. For instance, I got up at half seven (personal best for the year, on a day off. The year which is… only just a week old, hee.)

And… there was snow! During the night, magic has been worked (or, weather, whatever) and there’s a wee inch of white over the world, making it all sparkly even though the sun wasn’t yet up, and I was deadly excited.

Then I realised this is going to be enormously annoying later on, right enough.

And there was a proper work-out and stretches and all the stuff I swear blind, every night, I’m going to start the day with. Dammit, I’m single and everything, it’s the perfect time to get into such a routine, because a morning work-out seems to have pissed a whole procession of boyfriends off no end. For their part, they think I’m pathological: for my part, lying around for hours on end with someone who’s mostly passed-out is dull. Oh how unfair that sounds, but my activity levels (well the ones I aspire to, which is a completely different kettle of fish) just seem to be out of whack with everyone else’s. Le sigh. I do not think I am cut out for relationships. The only person I’d be in any way compatible with would probably be someone so psychotically organised and hyperactive that we’d die locked in a battle of one-upmanship; probably, one I was busy losing.

So hurrah for being single. No, wait, hurrah for having a parcel at the post office!

And hurrah for a lovely pre-dawn walk through the snow, the sky aflame up ahead and promising the sort of glorious day that is lovely to look at and prevents you putting a coat of weather-proofing stain on the window-frames (‘do not apply in direct sunlight’).

And that is exactly the sort of day it was. So after I’d cleaned the flat, I heroically refrained from inspecting the parcels (most of them are books – bad move). Instead, it was nice to sit and look at the day every so often while doing the Sums. Ah, the never-ending Sums. I have had to try a new approach – typing it all out, as opposed to writing it. I think, given that they said you can be finished eight modules in two years if you put in seven hours a week, that you are meant to somehow merely look at the chapters and the words will magically pass from your eyes into your brain and stay there. Yeah right. I may be able to quote massive chunks of John Wyndham, who I have not read for years, and this is indeed the magic method those words used to pass from my eyes into my brain and stay there; but equations? I should cocoa! I have to write them down. Again and again and again.

Unfortunately, I calculate that at this rate it will take me two years just to complete the first module, so clearly something has to change. And alas, my brain is probably not going to be that thing.

So I was going great guns till I discovered I had a text from me wee bro saying, I will be round in an hour with the telly. Which came in half an hour ago. Zoinks! To the garage to get milk and hide the empties!

I ran straight into my wee bro and his girlfriend, Sarsparilla, on the way in, hee. They were ever so impressed by my ‘psychic abilities’. Rather less so with my telly-carrying abilities – my wee bro has a new plasma screen thing that looks a ‘reasonable’ size in his lounge (so is probably big enough for King Kong to hide behind) and thus was looking to offload his old telly. So I said he could bring it to mine, and for a wonder, this piece of brazen cheek actually paid off. The screen of this leviathan is twice the size of the screen on my current second-hand CRT, thus since it is also (now) a second-hand CRT, the weight is about the same as that of Sarsparilla. And goddamn if I could get my fingers underneath it without it sitting up hard into my armpit and leaning on the Implant. (I wonder, if those things actually burst, do you die?) Getting the bugger up the stairs was a mighty task indeed, even between two of us (ironically, either of us could carry Sarsparilla herself a similar distance with far less problems).

Once it was in situ, however, and we had all breathed a sigh of relief, it proved that there is (again) some problem with my cable telly, viz. I don’t have any. Maybe they noticed I never watch it, but I would still like a refund in that case.

My wee bro discovered, however, that I have a wee tetris-based game that plugs directly into the telly, with which to Test It Works, so that was him quite happy – as long as he could cajole either me or Sarsparilla in playing against him. So we spent a couple of hours being rubbish at it, while I watched the clouds cover the sky in a fashion quite perfect for staining window frames, if only I did not have guests, and Sarsparilla made noises about really having to get to Tescos before it got too crowded. Eventually, once the sleet was on and night was falling, my wee bro realised our commitment to Tetris was on the wane and we said our goodbyes. Rats, I have missed my staining window (boom boom).

Again, le sigh. It’s not that I don’t like them, cos I do, it’s not that I don’t like having them over, cos I do, and see if I didn’t have a million things to do (and the constant feeling that I’m getting nowhere with them), I’d be more than happy to spend all afternoon doing something pointless and fun. But that wee voice in the back of my head that mutters, Get a wiggle on, idiot! is now jumping up and down and screaming it.

And lo, when I am on my deathbed, which will I regret more – ditching pointless fun for slaving over some hot Sums, or vice versa? Then I remember I spent my twenties on pointless fun* and look where I am now. Still broke, is where. Had I pulled my finger out, I could be having pointless fun in exotic and breathtaking locations right now. Oh hell, maybe I’d still feel I was getting it all wrong.

*(Well, mainly on the dishes, actually, but hey).

However, I was most gratified when my wee bro pegged out on the sofa, looked at Dieter the new Drill, made a sour face and exclaimed in astonishment, You have a DEWALT! YOU have a DeWalt! What the fuck are YOU doing with a DeWalt?

Screwfix crash price sale, I said, failing not to be smug.

In conclusion: I got nowhere near as much done as I wanted, but I inspired unalloyed envy in somebody’s heart, and that rarely happens. So it was a somewhat successful day. Now, to the Sums!


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in all the small things, so much for plan b, social events, the fear of all sums. Bookmark the permalink.

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