Tuesday, 5 July 2016
It has been ages. I have no sense of humour left, also my house is full of children (there are actually only two but they seem to be everywhere, partly because they are playing mass slaughter online with a bunch of strangers and that is loud, also one is about 30 cm from my face idly scrolling through my Instagram) and the long-awaited builders (months of shattered promises, insert your own topical political reference here, nb they will probably fuck off leaving the job half finished to make the laboured topical parallel even easier) are making a massive sawdusty meal out of building five shelves. I haven't managed to focus on one train of thought for more than three minutes for the last fortnight.
How are you all holding up as our political class descends into infant school farce? My ongoing strategy for dealing with the impending apocalypse is as follows:
- regular overeating
- lots of laundry
- nightly gin
- small administrative tasks that are easy to complete and give an entirely illusory sense of control. I have invoiced the fuck out of everything, done my VAT, purchased many pointless stationery items, ticked off next year's book lists and if the world doesn't stop spinning off its axis soon I may even book the mammogram I have spent the past 18 months failing to organise.
I have also been doing some comfort reading, cue an effortless segue into telling you that my June reading (or in fact, mostly rereading) is now up.
What are your coping strategies?
Everyone passed their exams to my satisfaction, so no one is locked in the basement/required to attend some kind of teenage delinquent dude ranch in the Ardennes to do extra Dutch and penitence. I have discovered in recent years that beneath my "successs is illusory, plough your furrow and just be happy, man" hippy facade, I am in fact an utter arsehole about academic results. Self-discovery, eh.
We have been watching the entire box set of 30 Rock (second time for me, first for boys), which provides us with a precious truce for a couple of hours every evening. Any ideas what we could watch when we run out? We've done Kimmy Schmidt and Flight of the Conchords already.
L is enrolled in a holiday gulag from 21st and F is off camping with his grandparents in Normandy next week, which leaves me with a full SIX child free days, during which I plan to go to London, see M, eat Gail's cinnamon rolls and generally not cower in the attic avoiding all human interaction.
At some point I will have shelves. SHELVES! I have dreamed of this moment.
My neighbour, no not the hairless cat, took this amazing picture over our house during the pre-Brexit apocalypse storm (embiggen it upon your screen for full effect):
Worst ever Belgian teenage shopping trip on Sunday - torrential rain, teenage appallingness, shouted at by salesbastards in Foot Locker, no stock in any of the FOUR - FOUR - H&Ms on Rue Neuve... So bad it became hilarious. They can make/buy/beg for their own bloody clothes, henceforth.
The Fattening is out of control because I have eaten all my feelings, plus all everyone else's feelings and there are a lot of feelings swilling around.
I managed to spend all my tax rebate without even noticing what I had spent it on (cakes for my party? New eye shadow (no regrets)? Eurostar tickets? Pointless (or pointy) virtual weapons purchased by boys without my knowledge?) and am flat broke again.
40% Ongoing Brexit paralysis
20% Inactivity and related guilt
20% Esmeralda's Milk, well on way to becoming my new chocolate weakness
10% Enjoying this
10% Earplug gratitude