I am still legendarily stupid and I am going to tell you how, rather than getting on with sorting it all out.
1. Craftacular, 12 December
I have no boxes for the Cruel Tea arse biscuits. I have no ticket to go to London and none of my credit cards works to buy one. I have noone to look after the weepette.
2. Credit card
I haven't cancelled one of the cards that was nicked with my wallet. I hit an administrative wall, and I can't. Do. Any. More. Admin. This also extends to: not yet changing my billing address for any of my cards, sorting out my new ID card, getting a cleaner, speaking to the water people, paying the insurance, getting a new health insurance card/driving licence. I just can't do any more. I have admin burnout. This will all come back and bite me in the arse very very soon.
3. Child care
I am supposed to be going to Lydia's party tomorrow - hi Lydia! - and I haven't got a babysitter. Twenty four hours notice? In December? Fat chance.
4. Loon meds
I have run out of citalopram again. I could sort this out with a single phone call. I have not made the phone call. I have already got the tingling hands. Soon it'll be the dizziness. Great. So very clever.
I still have no hoover or iron or any way to make coffee. I specially purchased economical white goods because you can get a 100 euro rebate from the federal government if you send them various pieces of paper. AS IF I will ever manage to do that. I mean, come ON. Apart from anything else, the dryer arrived looking like it had been mud wrestling other appliances, and without the vital A+ sticker on the side. I have done nothing about this, despite the fact I spend several thousand euros with these useless bastards on electrical shit. Oh, and I can't do a euro sign on this keyboard. I can see it, but what is the mac equivalent of alt gr? WHO KNOWS.
Fuuuuuuck. I have no transport or dog care for Christmas either when I will mainly be in the UK with a ridiculous dash back to Brussels from 24-26th. I have not bought a single present. I have no particular belief I will buy any, apart from for the children. I have a bag of stocking fillers, but I will have to use them for the festival of that judgmental asshole, St Nicolas, this Sunday. St Nicolas, tu me casse les couilles (this useful French phrase means 'you are breaking my balls'. Take note, Fran). Seriously, you might as well just put me in your sack and kick me all the way to Spain. The ONLY thing, but the ONLY thing the spawn have asked for consistently is one of those eyeball balls. I cannot find a fucking eyeball ball, obviously. They are expecting the jolly man with the giant stick and the blacked up helpers to bring them one on Sunday.
Gah. Go on, berate me, or share your own shame. Whichever.