Belette did a nice post today about six small things that made her happy. It was pleasing, even to me, snarling, repulsive cynic that I am. I even took part. But you don't come here for that kind of thing, do you? So here are 'six small things that are making me narky'. I invite you, as ever, to join me. It's Thursday whine-fest! Yeah!
1. I foolishly opened a letter today. Usually I just shove them under the desk or leave them for the CFO. It had the scales of justice peeping through the transparent window and my name on it. This should have warned me off, but like a good lawyer, I opened it. Sibelga are taking me to court, apparently, for €250. I don't even know who Sibelga are. Ah well.
2. I ate half a sausage yesterday. It was Not a Good Thing. The other half sausage caused Lashes to vomit on my shoes this morning. My half sausage is giving me pervasive nausea and bad temper (yes. a sausage CAN do that). Fingers is spared due to surviving on air, cola bottles and Kinder eggs. The CFO was somewhere on the outskirts of Coventry at the time, and consequently also spared.
3. Present clinic is not the roaring success I had hoped for. As you know, my self-worth is intimately tied up in how much validation I get from the comments box. I am an empty husk without it.
4. The children are sucking my soul out, drop by drop. Fingers knows I am physically and mentally in thrall to him and his pouty wickedness and bends me to his will accordingly. Lashes is cursed with seemingly endless mountains of homework and a total disinclination to do any of it. We are jointly in constant trouble for failing to provide the right stuff on the right day and for doing that stuff wrongly, or in the wrong colour, or in the wrong place. This is not our fault. It's genetics. In these matters I am very much a biological determinist. 'Remembering stuff' and 'sharpening crayons' and 'writing neatly' are simply not in our DNA. Also, both of them have taken it as a personal challenge to jump on my bad knee as often as possible.
Look! St Nicolas is glowering in the background for reasons he refuses to explain, whilst his punitive helper is hanging off the Ikea light and telling me about how he is in trouble at school for sniffing too often.
Also, Lashes kept trying to take my wig off yesterday to put it on an inflatable pumpkin "because it will make a funny photo" - and I have noone, but noone, to blame for this but my stupid self.
5. Cooking. This is always on my list, I know. Just, fuck it. I am so goddam sick of cooking. The food plus utensils, plus the heat plus the plates and knives and stuff? Every damn day? Just, way too much for me right now. The bagel plus the toaster is as much as I can manage. The crisps plus the hand is good for me too. The cup of tea plus the Migraleve plus the bed would be ideal.
6. I have totally, abysmally failed with my last new year's resolution to "wear more make up". I never, ever manage to put make up on, even though I am one of those people who is totally transformed by it, from terrifying pink eyed, whey faced, veiny nosed troll, to passably human female. I have lost count of the people who have told me I am looking 'tired'. Damn right I am. So tired that squirting on a bit of foundation and adding a dab of Benetint seems like scaling the north face of the Eiger. Moisturiser? Don't get me started.
7. I need one more, sorry. I still smell of chicken fajitas from Tuesday. The perils of wearing a wig. I don't want to smell like Tuesday's dinner. I can't get it together to wash the wig. It's lengthy and boring and I just can't.
Ok - your turn. Six - or seven - small grievances or irritations. It's cathartic, innit?