The light, it still burns. Oh come on, really. I have to go to fightclub tonight (in fact, I have to go to fightclub rather a lot in the near future. As if I wasn’t feeling pressured enough). Well, one last push to be ready in time for Hellday, when the cycle continues afresh. I remain convinced I can do one little bundle for my Colleague of Empty Kettles, and-
I swear, I didn’t even get to finish the thought before all hell broke loose properly this time. And a day early too! Case in point – after a hard morning’s graft where precisely nothing came to fruition, at lunch, I decided I had better get round to sending a card and gift certificate to my cousin, in honour of the birth of her first child. Yes, that was a month ago. All I have to do is find out the name (and thus, gender) of said child, whip up a certificate, grit my teeth against imminent bankruptcy, say goodbye to the next few volumes of the Malazan Book of the Fallen wot I had my eye on* – print it out, get her address and voila, five minutes and the job’s a good ‘un, all done from my desk. Good old technology.
*(And volume Ten-The-Finale is in money-off pre-ordering state for February dispersal, oh curse you Amazon, finally a heads-up tailored to me on today of all days – no, you have books one and three through nine to work through first. I bet I totally could do it by Valentines day. If I didn’t have a grading and all these Sums. Goddammit. Priorities!)
Except, the address and child’s name are on a text in the old phone, meaning I have to dismantle both, change the Sim card, get it out and – oh, it’s been eaten. Balls. Oh well, I shall text my Auntie and ask. And now for the gift certificate. And they want how much for postage? A fiver? Sod off! So I spent ages hunting round website after website, while my cashcard was refused multiple times and the internet itself went on the blink. But finally, I did it! It only took AN ENTIRE HOUR.
And the printer’s down. Since the printers are linked, every printer in the sodding hospital is down. No gift certificate – and no typing, and no hell-day prep either.
Not only this, but people are screaming for a casenote for someone’s operation. Tomorrow. Or the op will not happen, and heads will roll (namely, mine). Apparently I had the casenote only last week. Did I hell. I haven’t even got any dictation on it. So it was tools-down to run round everyone I could think of, looking for it, for an hour and some of them, bless, were kind enough to down tools too, to help (the ones who are far more stressed than I am, natch). So that put paid to everyone’s afternoon.
And in the middle of that, I get a call through from my Colleague of Skull Scarves saying she’s got a zoomer on the phone asking for me. NO! I said, but she put her through anyway, and I spent twenty minutes – while someone who was trying to help me out was trying to talk to me about something rather more urgent – trying to explain that we do not Do benefits forms, certainly not without a form from the benefits agency, which we don’t have, and anyway it is exceedingly unlikely that the woman’s going to get a sickline because her earring won’t come out. So that’s everything still to do and nobody is happy.
God, I hate this crappy week. Which thought at least marched me into the soothing, dark pub for two hours of Sums – ha, and my expression was such that it even drove off the friendliest, spangliest, most oblivious man on the planet. Phew. I should probably make it up to him later. And thence, into town – ah bliss, it was dark, and night cannot fall quickly enough for my sore eyes – and got me most of the way through the warm-up – though of course, it consisted mostly of sprawls and rolls till I thought my head would fall off. I fought the lawyer tonight, and very helpful and lovely he was too, talking me through everything, though I am fearfully conscious that time is running out, he’s grading as well and he wasted one whole precious lesson on coaching me. I feel like I’m just bad news for everyone around me, today!
I managed to make it home before my legs fell off, sat down, took one look at the massive list of things I optimistically thought could be done in the hour before bedtime, said, Bugger that, to myself and barely succeeded in Not going through and falling face-down on the bed, fully clothed. No, I had an entire glass of wine first. A small one. I am losing my touch.