Wednesday, 16 April 2014

Jigtherapy

Down: 

Filthy, filthy mood, impotently and utterly fecked off. Not child related at all. Work related.

Just had to go through the bin to see if Roomba had swallowed any jigsaw pieces (it hadn't) because the bottom edge totally refuses to yield to us.

Before 10am I had unblocked lavatory, cleaned out rat's cage and taken rat back to vet.

L has been complaining about my restrictive repertoire of meals, though his main request appears to be 'more grilled meat'.

Spilled my therapeutic gin all over the floor and was too past it to get another one.

Impossible to find a plain white piggy bank with a cork for a snout.

Getting quite behind on work, predictably.

Couldn't find a quiet spot to cry in for love nor money whilst walking dog tonight, constantly interrupted by joggers, dog walkers, dogs, etc.


Up:

Half an hour battling with the evil jigsaw tonight has left me strangely becalmed. I was in actual (if repeatedly interrupted, as described above) tears of rage earlier this evening. Now I just wonder what's going on with the bottom edge with all the different sized leaves. I don't know who I am any more. We are about 3% done. F will have finished university before we finish it.

Only got lost twice on museum trip. Museum was strange but entertaining and highly Belgian. I especially like this sign, which admittedly was nothing to do with the museum:



Vet not too worried about rat.

L touchingly careful and lovely with rat, including extensive hoovering to protect him against dust.

Prog Rock sent me a box of four, very comprehensively packaged, home made hot cross buns. He's a prince among men. I had one this afternoon in a particularly low and grumpy moment and they tasted like home.

I simply can't resent or regret a minute of this lazy, luxurious empty time. I like being around for these mouldy, pointless weeks. I love their company. I like sitting on the sofa and watching CBBC and going to the cinema at 11 in the morning and baking crap cakes and doing the worst jigsaw in the world. I sometimes wonder if I take so much pleasure in it because my professional life is so fucked up, but really, does it matter? They're lovely. Maybe I can have one of those late flowering careers I hear about, actually, I pretty much have to because it's not as if I have a pension. ANYWAY. I'm enjoying my week, even though it is intermittently tiring, boring and expensive and sometimes all three at once.

Percentages:

45% post-rage exhaustion
15% hot cross bun
15% fucking freezing, where did the nice weather go? I am back in opaques and multiple jumpers.
10% edge pieces
10% oppressed by livestock
4% wishing for a golden eagle
1% aware of contradiction between last 2 percentages, but not caring.

8 comments:

vivien y said...

Could organise bespoke money box as described if that would be at all helpful (we do ceramics.) It would take a while though.

Miranda said...

I bet these people would make you a whiter one if you asked. http://www.etsy.com/uk/listing/181091076/ceramic-piggy-bank-in-white?ref=sr_gallery_3&ga_search_query=white+piggy+bank&ga_ship_to=GB&ga_page=3&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery

Waffle said...

Miranda - I did see those and they're perfect, but I dread what Belgian postal service will do to a delivery from US...

Vivien - Thank you! I may well take you up on that.... You're in the UK, right?

breakfastlady said...

Do you have bluebells in Belgium? A walk in a bluebell wood is enough to lift the heart of even the most fucked off of the fucked off. And there will be a tree you can weep behind if not.

I too am holding out for a late-flowering career, but there is a difference between 'late-flowering' and 'caught by the first frost', I fear, having just turned 48. I really must get on with it. It's OK though - MrB has decided at 51 that a career in stand-up comedy beckons, and is doing a 5-min gig next month. His first. In Glasgow. With an English accent. I can't think of anything more terrifying. Did you know that the Glasgow Empire actually did have big hooks to yank people off the stage if they were bombing?

Alison Cross said...

Jigsaws are what our parents used to do instead of meditate. The restorative power of a jigsaw cannot be underestimated. Unless there's a bit missing in which case it is The Devil's Work.

Enjoy your time with the boys, soon they will be at the horrible smelly feet, no cuddling, no speaking to me in public stage :-)

Ali x

MargotLeadbetter said...

I developed a jigsaw habit earlier this year when work was especially rubbish and stressful. It is a very calming pursuit.

Sally said...

Do a jigsaw on your ipad. Very calming and satisfying to hear over exaggerated "click" when you manage to fit a piece in. And no problems of roomba eating a bit.

Divven't panic about your late flowering career. I'm the same. I'll be sitting there when I'm 90 thinking about all the stuff I could have done. Anyway you write beautifully and make ME laugh.

And I am very discerning ;)

S

vivien y said...

Yes am in the uk, you can find me at vw4y@yahoo.co.uk

If you decide you would like ceramic money box as described, let me know dimensions and I will see what can be done :)