You know in gardens there's rocks and stones and patios, well you know if you lift a you some times find creatures scurrying around or some in hibernation if it's winter or just curled in a ball if they have lots of legs. Well you the slime that come out of these creature - well that's how I feel today....
It's the down after the climb, the dip on the roller coaster (Drayton Manor last week, first time on a roller coaster for almost 25 years), the abyss after an incredible high ( second round of interviews). I fall for it every time and wish I could keep the momentum of feeling good but I can't.( Meal tomorrow- double edged sword- expanding waist line holiday on the horizon)
Any how, my Mum and sis have gone a booked us all a much needed holiday for October, so that is pretty much taking up all my thoughts right now. Not the hunt for paid employment, which seem to be of concern to the employers of the department concerned with these things. Don't they know I'm way to busy to work ? I doubt if they think my daily routine warrants such a chunk of tax payers money but hey some one has to keep Facebook a viable business, someone has to clean, pick up socks and make sure that another 3 don't join the ranks of Job seekers.
I'm good at being sneered at, reviled and the butt of every statistical benefit joke going ( single mum - such an oxymoron surely, unless cloning has become routine). I accept my position with good grace and humour. After all, if everyone worked many many people would be out of jobs, especially the leagues of civil servants employed to tick, count, harangue and look after the millions of work shy scroungers that never get around to phoning , emailing or who have just fallen through the numerous cracks found along the high way of life.
I have this problem now until I reach pensionable age, loose my mind, knees or drop down dead ( which ever come first I guess and at this rate it could be anyone of those options) Or I could get a job
Ahh , I feel better for that, might just clean out my burrow.
Saturday 21 August 2010
Saturday 7 August 2010
Roll on Boredom !
Today's been what can only be described as B-O-R-I-N-G,compared to the events of last week. None of which directly concerned me but did involve me in someway.
It started the other day with our fire alarms going off every 10 minutes. If this hadn't been at 3am and if I hadn't been woken in a panic, feeling nauseous and if I'd had a rational capable adult to talk to instead of my overly conscientious son number 1. I might have attempted to change the batteries my self - but don't these things 'pip' before the batteries need changing ? Going to full pelt siren mode before pipping and doing so continually every 10 minutes had me call the emergency housing people and them decide it was serious enough to send out a man.
Ten minutes later another couple of alarms, my nerves in shreds and images of a slowly smoldering electric fault in the loft, I switched off all electricity and prayed that the other 2 children ( who having done nothing more that grunt and turn over during the whole incident) didn't wake up and reach for their lights.
I sat and wondered if I should get dressed ? if so what do you wear at 3am + when it's obvious you've got dressed. Whilst pondering if to switch on the electricity, so as to find some clothes, dress, risk re- starting the imaginary fire in the loft - A man knocked on the door. Cringe - it was only the man who 2 years earlier had had to rescue us from a power cut at 12am one Sunday night because I'd done a spot of midnight ironing, tripped the house and forgotten that this house has two trip switches.
Why do I remember all this trivia ? apart from the fact that the man was gorgeous. Well it was the feeling of hopelessness that always strikes when I find myself failing. As a single mum, it can happen when I try to use a drill (just the once - don't ask, or do any DIY which usually ends in a heated frustrated mess that needs more supplies from the hardware shop and another load of money.
It makes me want to scream that I'm in this situation, that life has thrown a spanner in the works and that there isn't some 'Capable Ken' who will sort it all out and sweep me off my feet while he's at it. It's not what I signed up for...
Examining the minutiae of my daily life, I find there's plenty going on. Like the fact that my typing seems to be slipping into the misspelled, two finger kind ( no that's not a short hand for something, I can't even begin to spell the word I want to describe the thing I've just described)
Rain has fallen in a couple of spectacular showers, leaving the briefest brightest rainbows that I would have missed if not for a kind neighbor pointing them out. So much for summer holidays, a phrase that is really only used to describe the two weeks that every school teacher in the UK flies off to enjoy their summer holiday in some country having a real summer with sun,sun cream, sea and flies. For the rest of us stuck back here the monsoon season would better describe the six weeks until the next school year begins. Only of course there are countries that do it far more impressively and devastatingly than England, so mustn't grumble.
Part of my famille returned from their hols today, with tales of pools, buffets bits, burns, discos and tummy upsets. Ah the Brit abroad, usually glad to be home whatever the weather.
'What's been happening here ?' they asked. Well where to start. No, son number 2 hasn't been locked up yet, although we have had two unrelated incidents involving the police.
Incident No 1. The young man over the road knocked on the door, just as I'd gone to bed. Answering, clad only in flimsy silky wrap, I answered. He stood, crow bar in hand (well wrench - but equally menacing) looking for son number 2.
'Does he have a green T-shirt on?' He asked. Well he hadn't but it seems a similar looking youth had smashed his car window. After calming him down and pleading that he hadn't actually incriminate himself in assault, I advised him to phone the police. Son number 1, looked on from his bedroom window and reported each move as it happened. Police drive past, turn around drive back, park up, talk, drive off and so on for the next hour or so. Until peace returned.
Incident No 2. Police arrive, thinking it's for me about son number two I went out, only it wasn't. The neighbours had called screaming 'help'down' the phone during a domestic. It had been traced but once found, they denied all knowledge of said call. Now for most people this would result in a stern telling off but you don't know my neighbours.
It would take a a while to tell you about my neigbours and I've got son number 2, shewing me out of the room so he and his mate can take over the living room, the TV and kitchen to cook themselves pizza, chips and anything else they can find to satisfy their 'munchies'
Roll on boredom !
It started the other day with our fire alarms going off every 10 minutes. If this hadn't been at 3am and if I hadn't been woken in a panic, feeling nauseous and if I'd had a rational capable adult to talk to instead of my overly conscientious son number 1. I might have attempted to change the batteries my self - but don't these things 'pip' before the batteries need changing ? Going to full pelt siren mode before pipping and doing so continually every 10 minutes had me call the emergency housing people and them decide it was serious enough to send out a man.
Ten minutes later another couple of alarms, my nerves in shreds and images of a slowly smoldering electric fault in the loft, I switched off all electricity and prayed that the other 2 children ( who having done nothing more that grunt and turn over during the whole incident) didn't wake up and reach for their lights.
I sat and wondered if I should get dressed ? if so what do you wear at 3am + when it's obvious you've got dressed. Whilst pondering if to switch on the electricity, so as to find some clothes, dress, risk re- starting the imaginary fire in the loft - A man knocked on the door. Cringe - it was only the man who 2 years earlier had had to rescue us from a power cut at 12am one Sunday night because I'd done a spot of midnight ironing, tripped the house and forgotten that this house has two trip switches.
Why do I remember all this trivia ? apart from the fact that the man was gorgeous. Well it was the feeling of hopelessness that always strikes when I find myself failing. As a single mum, it can happen when I try to use a drill (just the once - don't ask, or do any DIY which usually ends in a heated frustrated mess that needs more supplies from the hardware shop and another load of money.
It makes me want to scream that I'm in this situation, that life has thrown a spanner in the works and that there isn't some 'Capable Ken' who will sort it all out and sweep me off my feet while he's at it. It's not what I signed up for...
Examining the minutiae of my daily life, I find there's plenty going on. Like the fact that my typing seems to be slipping into the misspelled, two finger kind ( no that's not a short hand for something, I can't even begin to spell the word I want to describe the thing I've just described)
Rain has fallen in a couple of spectacular showers, leaving the briefest brightest rainbows that I would have missed if not for a kind neighbor pointing them out. So much for summer holidays, a phrase that is really only used to describe the two weeks that every school teacher in the UK flies off to enjoy their summer holiday in some country having a real summer with sun,sun cream, sea and flies. For the rest of us stuck back here the monsoon season would better describe the six weeks until the next school year begins. Only of course there are countries that do it far more impressively and devastatingly than England, so mustn't grumble.
Part of my famille returned from their hols today, with tales of pools, buffets bits, burns, discos and tummy upsets. Ah the Brit abroad, usually glad to be home whatever the weather.
'What's been happening here ?' they asked. Well where to start. No, son number 2 hasn't been locked up yet, although we have had two unrelated incidents involving the police.
Incident No 1. The young man over the road knocked on the door, just as I'd gone to bed. Answering, clad only in flimsy silky wrap, I answered. He stood, crow bar in hand (well wrench - but equally menacing) looking for son number 2.
'Does he have a green T-shirt on?' He asked. Well he hadn't but it seems a similar looking youth had smashed his car window. After calming him down and pleading that he hadn't actually incriminate himself in assault, I advised him to phone the police. Son number 1, looked on from his bedroom window and reported each move as it happened. Police drive past, turn around drive back, park up, talk, drive off and so on for the next hour or so. Until peace returned.
Incident No 2. Police arrive, thinking it's for me about son number two I went out, only it wasn't. The neighbours had called screaming 'help'down' the phone during a domestic. It had been traced but once found, they denied all knowledge of said call. Now for most people this would result in a stern telling off but you don't know my neighbours.
It would take a a while to tell you about my neigbours and I've got son number 2, shewing me out of the room so he and his mate can take over the living room, the TV and kitchen to cook themselves pizza, chips and anything else they can find to satisfy their 'munchies'
Roll on boredom !
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)