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Ah, another Monday, another chance to decide that This Week, It Will All Be Different! Yup, this week I’m gonna be up at half five every single day, study hard before work, find time to spend my lunchbreak doing something that isn’t work, bring in sarnies and spend not a peso at the canteen, spend a couple of hours drawing every night, and finish the week feeling I’m getting somewhere!

Of course, this week wasn’t any different. Or rather, it was different in all the same ways it always is. Observe! Again, the workload is increased!

This time, it really is nobody’s fault. The busiest person at the Rival hospital has been seconded to a boost in rank, so her workload has to be covered somehow; namely, getting piled over to us. But I am not adverse to being helpful! (Although how I will cope, I do not know, but hey, we’re all in this boat together, right?)

However, I do note that this violates the Golden Rule somewhat, which surprises me because the Rival hospital are very, very keen on the Golden Rule, to the extent that I suspect it to be written somewhere sacred*, in letters a spear-length deep, spelling out the Deep Magic thus: “Not One Jot Of Work Is To Be Transferred Between Hospitals”.

*(The car-park, probably, since us workers are now banned from using it. While I admire the efforts of the Powers That Be to encourage people not to use their cars, I feel this is less ‘encourage’ and more ‘prevent’, which is somewhat less cool).

I discovered the Golden Rule last year, when I innocently put Drs Hurricane and Anonymous’s secretaries’ phone numbers on my out-of-office reply, under, ‘for urgent enquiries please call’, before sodding off for a week’s leave. I do not recall what I did with it (came down with a cold, probably), but I do recall the spectacular ear-bashing I got on my return!

On the other hand, Dr Pleasant’s workload went over there last year because I could not cope with playing PA to three consultants, the nurse and the physio, and Dr Grumblepants’ work came over here some time ago; so perhaps the Golden Rule is out of vogue now. Plus ca change, etc.

Did I mention the part where it appears the entire workload is coming over here, however? And are we not outnumbered nearly two to one by our ‘sisters in arms’ at the Rival hospital? What gives?

What gives is the team spirit, natch. Every time the boss emails us a list of precisely which of the three of us will take on what, one person gets the lion’s share, and is spectacularly irate as a result (next week is my turn! The joys!) Bonus result: every time I try to say, Hey, according to this list, we have ALL the extra work, what is with that? I get the reply, AYE, and I have most of THAT, so what is with THAT, eh? Generally followed by Stomping Off. Ah, it was only a couple of months ago the boss complimented us on our team spirit and now it is dust in the wind (dude).

There could not have been a better divide and conquer tactic if the boss had planned it!

Anyway, after spending Monday working hard on other people’s work, I got home to find a bomb-site where I had left a nice, clean kitchen on Friday. These things do happen, it’s true, but having only been home for a couple of hours since then (not including sleep, and I am 99% sure I don’t make housework in my sleep), this seemed a little off.

However, spending time grousing will not get anything done, so I set to clearing up; which is when I discovered my favourite cactus lying across the pot it was planted in.

Goddammit, I have had that thing for thirty years! It has accompanied me to Dublin and London and Yorkshire, and it has sat unharmed on the kitchen windowsill for the last five years, and now two weeks after I get this new lodger, it is decapitated!

I suppose it might have been an accident that he didn’t even notice, but this is a slim suppose.

(*Certainly, it is an accident he still hadn’t mentioned, as of Friday, and I haven’t trusted myself to bring it up in case I hulk out. Or, ‘get bitchy’, which I suppose is the term for Hulking Out While Female).

While it is true that many of the people I know and love have rather more serious problems than, ‘Oh woe is me, my favourite cactus was killed by my lodger (probably)’, I am not sure pausing to reflect on how-lucky-you-are-not-to-have-worse-shit-going-on-right-now-so-suck-it-up-already-(you-pathetic-tart) is actually going to make me feel any happier. Instead the rest of the night was spent in emergency cactus ‘surgery’ and the planting of seeds and a rather bad mood, followed by the Bossman’s expenses. As usual, ‘finally! Time to draw!’ and ‘bedtime’ occurred simultaneously.

Also, the Bossman got on skype and informed me that it’s so piggin’ cold at the moment because Nature hates hippies. I failed to see the relevance until he pointed out today is Beltane.


I fear ’emergency cactus surgery’ and ‘working hard on everyone else’s stuff’ do not count as a celebration of Beltane. That brings the number of important pagan festivals I have remembered this year to the grand total of: zero.

However, I have an ace up my sleeve: following The Old Calendar. And fortunately, you can pick from one of several Old Calendars (probably), so that all festivals fall on a convenient day somewhat later in the week.

I am so shafted, come the afterlife.

And so, despite my best efforts, ended another typical Monday. I am starting to fear I will never live up to my own ambitions.


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, cheese with that?, occasionally observant, please don't fire me. Bookmark the permalink.

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