Maybe, I should have made more of that week off. For instance, I could have worked a lot harder. Or, a lot less. On balance, however, I think it should have been a lot harder, because this week has been depressing as hell. Rationally, the fact that it’s the depressing tail-end of winter is probably largely to blame, and the days are not lengthening at anything like the speed I would like; but the Hamster Treadmill of Doom, aka, my job, seems to becoming more and more irksome. It Can all be done before the next week’s incoming casenotes are dropped on my desk, (just), but I have to hustle like all hell to do so, and I am getting sick of not having enough energy over to get my stuff done. On the other hand, I have to admit that having a job doesn’t suck half as mightily as Not having a job. And yet… If there was just ten percent less work, I reckon I’d be at capacity without all the stress, it would be so great!
And despite putting in nearly a full working week on the Sums last week, I feel I am no further on than I was in November [you’re not. You’ve been going back over all the old bits, remember? – Ed]. So now, I have to fit my delusionally-optimistic schedule in around a full working week? Ha! Plus, I am also scheduled to be out every evening this week – fightclub, gig, fightclub, hypodermic testing – I am suddenly so popular!
In the end, however, filled with the terror of steadily falling behind, I cancelled everything bar the hypodermic testing. And still failed to get a wiggle on with absolutely anything.
And yes, that did say, ‘hypodermic testing’. I got a call from the clinic where I had previously gone through three rounds of Operation Frankenstein* to say, ‘Would you like to come try out a new sort of hypodermic in exchange for a wodge of cash?’ Since I am somewhat hard up, I agreed. My, again we have to come to the point where I can look at my life and say, ‘My, I never thought my life would come to this’.
Well and didn’t I get lots of hugs and thanks for coming along (and free kit-kats and coffee). Maddened with the heady prospect of Free Stuff, I even considered swiping the pen with which I had to sign a big form saying, I Promise to Report Any Side-effects I May Have Later. (What? I assumed we would be injecting inert substances, here!)
Which we did, mercifully. Into an orange! Hot diggity, that was so much easier than having to inject stuff into myself; I could do it all day!
*(giving the gift of life to infertile families! In theory. The fact that I call it Operation Frankenstein is warning enough that my genetic material should definitely be raised by someone else.)
Even better, the nurse who led the session got an even bigger wodge of cash than we did, and she split it with us outside, what a hero, so I made twice the money for a third of the work. Which might have inspired me to write much nicer things about the hypodermic than I would otherwise have done. (‘Easier to use than the last one?’ I’d say so, the last one didn’t involve injecting an orange!)
Unfortunately, it also inspired me to say, ‘Yes’, when she said, ‘So, coming back for another round of Operation Frankenstein? One last hurrah before you’re too old? You get Expenses and unconditional love!’ Dammit, these people know exactly what buttons to push.
‘But Operation Frankenstein did not work the last three times we tried!’ I protested faintly, the high of being slightly further towards paying off the engineering course fading somewhat at the reminder of previous vainglorious Failings on my part (especially when I considered that, at this rate, I may never get to the stage of having to purchase further modules).
‘Oh, we don’t know that,’ she said. ‘We would have to look it up. And we can’t do that unless you call and ask us to. Which you didn’t.’
Well fuck me, the last two years I’ve been sitting waiting for the call, as well. Duh. I guess I didn’t want to look too over-eager.
So tomorrow, I get to Finally Find Out (this time). Excitement and high drama all round! As well as the forthcoming prospect of, well, having to inject myself with drugs. The sort that are not in any way meant to be pleasant. Bugger. And I thought those days were over…
Still. Flush with cash and hyper with anticipation, I got into the rock’n’roll spirit and sprang for a train home rather than walking five miles in the cold and dark. Woo!