in which fun is had. Much to my dismay.

Woo, this week started with the September Weekend Monday Holiday!

wail, this week started with the September Weekend Monday Holiday. I need a holiday like I need a hole in the head right now, as I said to my colleagues the preceding Friday, upon realising the holiday was upon me. Which is always a sign that one needs a holiday.

It wasn’t that much of one, in truth, with the Bossman having skipped off home to get up early for work, and me having to get up at the crack of dawn myself to clear out the hall. (And after a day of eating little and drinking nervously quickly, too. Ouch.) Because the New Freezer(!) was being delivered, and I was embarrassingly excited about it. Now I will be able to freeze more food! – not to mention, dig about in the pre-frozen food and find out what exactly is in there, which I didn’t have time to do when we discovered the Old Freezer had bitten the big one five days earlier, and what wasn’t ruined was about to be ruined. (Though I will say this for the Old Freezer: DAMN, that is some good heat-shielding.)

The New Freezer was delivered nice and early – which was a bit disconcerting as I was halfway through gutting things out, and the place looked like an absolute tip. Yes, to strangers who I will never see again – and yet, who my rather hungover brain suspected mightily of noting and cataloging all my domestic flaws, and with considerable disdain at that. Which would hardly be difficult while I’m in the middle of the gutting-out to end all guttings-out, when everything looks as bad as it is possible to get. Because it is. Because this is the very best time to swap over two large freezers. But which made me feel even more defensive. So when one of them said, ‘ooh, are you an artist?!’, I very nearly snapped back, ‘oh is it the MESS that gives it away then? Or the way I am still in my pyjamas* at the late hour of half past seven ay-em?’

With hindsight, it was probably the number of paintings rather obviously covering most of the flat at that particular moment.

*(Tragically, my attempts at moving everything out of the way had blocked all avenues to the wardrobe. Which is what happens when you roll out of bed after your mate’s wedding and set to with brisk enthusiasm and absolutely no plan.)

Feeling suitably chastised – even though no chastisings had occurred, on either side – I spent the rest of the day being very quiet and drawing thousands upon thousands of small dots. For the Bossman has suggested that I work up a bunch of different A3 celtic knotwork borders, which can then be scanned and printed on nice paper at a nice cheap price for everyone who wants one, with a hand-drawn individual motif in the middle. Since a full-scale, all hand-drawn, all singing and dancing version can take all night every night for a week (as long as no from-scratch design is involved – and no mistakes are made), this could be handy all round! No pun intended, however feeble.

This could quite possibly have been a mistake, because between this and the staring-at-a-monitor-while-all-around-are-losing-their-heads day-job, I could barely see by Wednesday. And I was champing at the bit to finish getting the flat gutted out and turned around, for I have a perfectly natural (dammit) aversion to vast amounts of mess, and that is exactly what I have, right now.

However, I did join my local gym, and I did go to my first beginners Muai Thai class in my local gym, and I did enjoy it enormously, despite hurting like hell for the rest of the week. And I did feel monstrously guilty for availing myself of a new martial arts gym and not telling my faithful old one (which I enjoyed immensely, but which is far away and takes forever to get home from, while this one is on my way home). And I did long for the day when I can go to my local martial arts classes in whatever discipline I want, for I will be proficient enough to do so, and do it safe in the knowledge that I am pursuing all my endeavours to the best of my ability – as opposed to feeling the weight of Unsorted Clutter that awaits me weighing heavier on my shoulders than the rather ferocious punches my opponent was laying down.

And I could not do dots that night, for my hands were shaking too badly.

But soon! With faith and courage and hard graft, I shall be back on track!

… if I didn’t have to go to the Bossman’s place this weekend, anyway.

‘Fear not, we shall go out and have Fun!’ the Bossman emailed me. ‘You really need some Fun right now!’

The last thing I sodding need right now is Fun, I thought, I need to get my head down and get this place in tip-top order, for only then can I concentrate on the main plan. Which is doing lots of things which could be considered ‘fun’, of a sober, orderly kind, if viewed in the right light. By monks. I mean, it’s alright for him – he’s already the definition of successful. And he has two ex-wives, both of whom are making significant waves in the sciences, and here I am, slogging away in a dead-end job in a hospital and feeling distinctly like the Arnold Rimmer of the collection, and if I ever want to achieve success of my own, it will have to be done After Hours. Screw ‘Fun’.

But I want to be a Fun girlfriend, so I duly went over to see him on Friday, after the mandatory overtime, ignoring the irony of the ‘duly’ part and pausing only to have some ‘fun’ of my own on Thursday night, namely, having a friend over to enjoy homemade mead and wax loquacious about our various woes. (Namely, we are both slogging it out in dead-end jobs in hospitals, and neither of us have any time for Fun. Yes, I am ignoring the inherent irony in this too).

Thus I failed to notice that the back of my phone had fallen off and fallen from my pocket on the way home (having fallen out of my pocket earlier in the week and smashed off against the office floor. Right in the middle of a meeting with my boss, of course.)

And thus I failed to be in the right place at the right time to meet the Bossman, for as well as missing my stop (the bus driver had pulled the blinds down, none of the passengers could see anything, and we were all bobbing our heads like bass-addicted pigeons to try and check our location), the button to turn up the volume on the phone was located on the cover. So I never heard a peep, despite checking it frequently (I was on a street corner, in a gale, in very thin suit trousers) and so he was sodding furious when we finally met up, and spent much of the weekend telling me I was stupid, and clumsy, and a Luddite to boot.

Which last, I found ironic, given I have spent all week trying to reassure my even more Luddite-y colleagues that the software update will all be fine and I can totally help them and they know they will be able to understand it all if someone who actually cares whether they learn anything or not is training them. Unlike the guy training us this week, who blatantly rolled his eyes at folks who were struggling, even when one of my colleagues was literally in tears, and I wanted to punch him. Very much.

But mainly, I just hate that sodding phone. It has been nothing but trouble, and I only sat through the three weeks* of presentation about it on the chance that getting it would net me money off the laptop I wanted.

Which it didn’t.

(*Due to some perverse law of relativity, when I staggered forth into the sunlight, it turned out to have been only slightly more than an hour, Earth-standard time).

So neither me nor the Bossman were in a mood for Fun after all that, and it was awkward and icy all round. And yes, he has a point about the fact that I put his spare keys in a safe place some months ago, and have yet to recall where it was, for I did it in a hurry while we were heading out, lest I lose them while we away (haha); and also a point that I fear hate my current phone very much. But I am wrestling mightily with some issues of my own right now, thank you, namely, ‘oh god oh god what if I deep down really truly suck, like a stick of rock with ‘LOSER’ written right through the middle’ – and while I (and quite possibly most of the rest of humanity) wrestle with this most of the time, right when I’m about to undergo the Big Push* isn’t exactly the time I want my nearest and dearest to start speculating about it too.

Although it is always possible that that sort of thinking is a sign of the sort of person who is too thin-skinned. And pondering whether you should even be pondering this sort of thing in the first place is probably akin to looking for hairs on the palms of your hands in case you are mad.

*(After the cleaning! – Which sentiment, of course, is why I have yet to get anywhere.)

Anyway. We drove down to Alnwick (or, he did) and we meandered around the town and went for lunch and saw Harry Potter and Hagrid do magic, and wandered the castle and the grounds before stopping off at Lindisfarne on the way home, for it turned out neither of us had ever been. And neither of us have still ever been, for the tide was in, and mighty weird it was too, seeing the sea rolling in across the road.

Despite not even going near the sea, my feet were soaking wet afterwards. Which means these boots are broken already goddammitalltohell.

And despite all this, it was a lovely sunny day, probably the last one of the year, and although there were no apples for us to scrump this year, it was a good time and even though things were icy and awkward, this didn’t stop it being a good time, nor did it stop me enjoying his company and being glad to be with him. And nor did it appear to stop him feeling likewise – although this could just be because he is so much better than my mother at hiding it when he feels really angry with me and wants to throttle me.

(Not saying, for instance, ‘I am really angry with you and want to throttle you, although I will heroically pretend not to feel like that’ really helps with this one. It turns out.)

And I went home on Sunday and eschewed an invite to have Fun down the pub because I am brassic, and also, my colleague sent her husband round with the machine that washes one’s carpets. Which I have been looking forward to all week.

In conclusion: I am possibly the saddest bastard to ever walk the earth. However! See as soon as the cleaning is done? I will be Epic! HONEST.

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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?, karma. Bookmark the permalink.

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