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.
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.
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.