I have been to the dentist, which obviously, being a human being, I loathe and fear. Despite asking for my (mature, reassuring) dentist by name I yet again got a work experience dentist, but I liked this one. He was very small and neat and serious and sober and even though he spent an hour subjecting me to a variety of dental indignities which left my whole face sandblasted with tooth exfoliant, I quite liked him, to the extent that I pathetically asked if it would definitely be him when I go back next week for a filling (there's always a fucking filling, every time). It looks like I will survive this round of dentistry without someone deciding I need to have all my teeth removed and replaced with wooden pegs, which is always what I assume will be the outcome of each visit, so I am modestly pleased at having partially dodged the dental bullet.
Animals in this household who are dicks:
(i) The weepette who is, as I type, transporting his food grain by grain to the rug to chew it partially, then leave it for me to stand on. And who also peed on the rug as I was carefully drying it after washing.
(ii) The rug, which although not an animal smells so strongly of wet, shitty arsed sheep, it feels like an animal.
(iii) The new tortoise who thinks she is a chicken and has not eaten anything since she arrived.
Stupid tortoise being a hen
(iv) All the fat stupid flies who have got stuck in here and cannot work out how to leave.
(v) The tiny fruit flies losing their shit because a single banana is slightly overripe. COOL IT, GUYS.
(vi) The tortoise who thinks it is a good idea to sleep underneath its water bowl.
(vii) Chickens, for undermining my anti-saxophone neighbour noise abatement strategy by being insanely fecking loud every morning.
3. Things that have been lost this week
(i) School issue swimming hat x 2.
(ii) Bescherelle (grammar guide, of which we have 3 other copies none of which are the right edition).
(iii) Swimming trunks.
(iv) All-important canteen card, €20 to replace.
(v) My temper, finally, with Brussels' surliest waitress (this is an unimaginably high bar, she should be very proud). UPDATE: This requires some clarification. When I say I lost my temper, all I actually did was say something very mildly huffy, and I'm not actually sure she even heard me, but it still counts.
I will not enumerate the things that have been forgotten, they are far too numerous. All The Things, basically. I have decided to take the way of kindness and positive reinforcement with the above (well, not the waitress), which is all well and good and makes me feel fraudulently benevolent and calm like a smug barefoot white dreadlocked yoga instructor. The truth comes out at night when I grind my remaining teeth to stumps and dream of cadavers of which I need to dispose.
4. Impending chaos
This Friday I have to go from Brussels to London to Paris to Brussels in one day, for an article. Given my ambient anxiety levels are set to Perma-fret at the best of times, this is causing me some additional distress. For instance, I still have to find someone to have lunch in London with me on Friday, because I asked someone and they didn't reply, so now I do not know what to do. Maybe she will reply eventually, so I can't ask someone else because that would lead to awkwardness? But if she never replies, or if she says no, what will I do? Will one of you who is not a murderer whose dearest wish is to remove my face and wear it as a mask come and have lunch with me? Oh god. It's all too hard (= not hard at all for anyone with even a basic level of social function).
I edited a document this week which had used the word "picnicking" where it was supposed to read "panicking". I think this is an excellent and desirable substitution. It was definitely the best bit of the document.
Text message from son:
That is all.
50% bath longing
20% alcohol longing
20% work-related testiness
10% child screen-time guilt
(*I'm just sourcing these from my gmail statuses henceforth)