International We Hate Women Day, and the Surprise Sudden-Death Purging Bug!

What a wild, merry-go round existence I lead, eh? Oh come on, it may not be quite set at “Charlie-Sheen” levels of ‘mental’, but it’s cheap.

Today at work, we played detectives and then at lunchtime we played that my Cellmate was a spy and I was sending her on a mission, with code-words and everything. God. My Cellmate’s kids are too old for this nonsense, and here we are… but, you gotta get through the day somehow, right?

Especially when your day otherwise consists of striding out the door just before seven, clocking on at half seven, putting in a longer than usual shift and then bolting home with a massive rucksack to get the housework done as fast as humanly possible so you can cram in a couple of hours’ Sums before bed. Ah, I’m not knocking it; I have managed to convince myself that I like being busy (if not overwhelmingly so, and only as long as I feel I’m getting somewhere with it all. Picky or what!)

It is interesting, however, to see how the other half, (or perhaps, the other ‘two halves of a whole’) lives. My flatmates, at present, have a situation where he has a very well-paid job and she has no job, so he goes out to work hours about as long as mine, and meanwhile she cooks and cleans (the latter works out well for me, too!) Then in the evenings they… I don’t know. Chat in Russian, I think. They don’t watch telly, hurrah for them. Pray?

Meanwhile, I’m running round trying to stay on top of the work, the studying, the housework and the martial arts (hahaha). Somewhere in there, I also have an allotment plot to take care of and a bunch of drawings I promised people in lieu of the Real gifts I can’t afford, and there’s family to keep in touch with even if they never keep in touch back, and I promised to correspond more frequently with that kid I’m sponsoring in Peru and… where was I again?

Oh yeah, I’m eager for the wife to get a job too, partly because she wants one, but also so I can watch how they decide to divvy everything up when the situation changes; because they’re a lot more traditional in their outlook than I am. And they are absolutely free to do what they wish with their own lifestyles, as long as they’re both happy with the situation, they don’t trash my place or be perpetually in the bathroom when I want to be in it. But I do confess to being curious to see what will happen. Also, if there’s a net increase in Busy between them, that means maybe I won’t feel quite so much like they might both be kinda Judging me on my own commitment to the housework/ make-up wearing/ etc. My priorities are the Sums and getting the early tatties in right now. Today I discovered that this really pisses some people off, or it would if they were to find out (she says, in the hope that despite tempting fate, levels of traffic in this corner of the internet will continue at a ‘lazy Sunday morning in the boondocks’ pace). I don’t even mean my relatives, I mean people I will probably neither meet nor converse with online.

For lo, things at work are temporarily relaxed enough not only that we could play detectives as above (read: try to figure out for the police which member of the A&E team saw a patient who had been assaulted, and whether he given him stitches, elevating it to a Serious assault) and play spies (read: combine the midday Move Your Car Or Be Fined fiasco with the handing over of urgent medical information, in the underground carpark), but that I got to read some news at lunch. (In the standard Secretarial position: sat at desk, sarnie in one hand, madly-ringing phone in the other, trying not to gag on crumbs).

I must make a mental note to be grateful for days when I am too busy to even briefly browse the internet at lunch. For lo, it is the Centenary of International Women’s Day,  which means that when I went to see what was happening about it in the Guardian, I found a whole load of comments going on about how women are horrible, greedy vultures who hate men and keep them down; when I went to read articules about it in the US on Salon, I found a whole load of comments going on about how women are horrible, greedy vultures who hate men and keep them down. God help me, I turned to the Economist for their coverage of the event and found comments going on about how women are horrible, greedy vultures who hate men and keep them down. Although at least these were fewer in number and people were mainly arguing about graphs. But come Easter, I do expect to see lots of people out there ranting about how much they detest chocolate eggs. Turn about and all that.

Fearing my eyeballs might melt if I ventured anywhere near the Daily Mail on today of all days, I turned in desperation to Discover Magazine for some scientific-discovery sound-bites. Then I read the comments, which were almost unanimously scientifically-illiterate, and remembered why I stopped reading the damn site. Still, I didn’t actually read anyone informing the world that half the human population, split by gender, is a bunch of horrible, greedy vultures, so that was something.

If anyone knows of any news-orientated websites which aren’t full of comments about – oh, never mind. I’ll beg the Onion to update more regularly. I’d bring in a book, but that would require having a third hand.

After wading through all that, it was quite nice to return to the grind, even when the computer crashed right at the close of play and lost everything I’d been working on.

Right, time to carry the fightclub stuff all the way home again, for I have been having massive stomach cramps for the last few days and do not feel up to fighting. (Besides, I want to wash the bathmats and have just discovered there are no spares, for they belonged to the ex-flatmate, and I don’t want to look like the sort of half-arsed landlady who has No Spares)!

So, a quick trip to B&M Bargains (thank every god for B&M Bargains) for even more consumer goods I can’t afford, and then a stroll through the park to the flat. Which gave me time to reflect on all my blessings – I don’t have the world’s most fulfilling job, for instance, but I have a job, and I may have lots of things to do but that’s better than having nothing to do, and don’t I have my own place, where I can shut the door and keep the shouting outside? And I seem to have missed the rain and things could be a lot worse, really!

And the flat is empty, bwahaha, quick, time to fish all the used tissues out of the recycling bin (I really MUST screw up my courage and explain the purpose of the recycling bin better to my flatmates, before the Talk becomes even more awkward) and put the bathmats through the wash and clean the kitchen and take the compost out and scrub the amazing reappearing stains off the hall carpet and change the lightbulb in the kitchen and soak the compost tubs in bicarb and scrub down the old microwave, ready to go to the charity shop, and tear up all the cardboard and –

you know, I don’t feel very well. My stomach feels like it’s been stabbed, and my head’s pounding and my eyes have gone weird and my ears are ringing and it’s too hot and I’m going to be sick, is what.

Surprise Sudden-Death Purging Bug ahoy! Lo, about half an hour passed there between me thinking things could be a lot worse… and things being a lot worse, what’s with that? And dear god, it was awful. First I feared I might be dying, then I feared I wasn’t dying and might have to put up with this all night (and my fastidious flatmates, what would they think of me?) Most disturbingly of all, I could feel my body dehydrating, like a full bath when the plug’s been pulled. Egads! My mummified corpse will be found in the morning, and the police will be all, In Glasgow? In March? When the air is like soup? Call the X-Files! (To which the younger coppers will say, The what?)

No pancakes for me, this pancake day. I filled up on electrolytes instead (handy hint: if you are suffering Surprise Sudden-Death Purging Bug!, or just very dehydrated, drink water or juice with a teaspoon of sugar and a teaspoon of salt in it. You will need the salt, and the sugar will prevent the salt making you ill. This can also save your life if you have cholera, and it is very cheap and easy!)

And I did heroically study Chapter 8: Inductance, despite my tribulations. Hahaha, inductance is measured in henrys. I knew I made the right decision there. Still can’t decide what was the more horrible part of today, however – the bug? Or reading about the massive amounts of hatred out there?

I shall make a mental note to read the exact same sites on November 19th (International Men’s Day) to see if there is a similar outpouring of hatred in the other direction form the distaff side. Although if it is, that’ll presumably just prove that Everyone Is Shit, which will be depressing as hell, and if there isn’t… actually, that’ll be depressing as hell, because Everyone Just Hates Us, eh.


About beshemoth

Mainly making art, making wine, writing and gardening. Having a life only as the above allows.
This entry was posted in a horse so high I need a parachute, all the small things, cheese with that?, forever coming down with something, news. Bookmark the permalink.

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