Hello. Sorry about that. The ten-days-silence, I mean. Everything has been tres boring chez May. I was sparing you all, honest.
Anyway, updates, now that I have some at last, and about time too, because really, dull is only the word I can use to describe the past two weeks because I can’t think of a more boring synonym for it:
Less tired, which is good. More to do at work, which is bad. We’re changing one of our major suppliers (as the old one, frankly, sucked big green poisonous bunnies and even they were telling us to leave now and seek out competent people). For some interesting reason, this is coinciding with everyone except me being on holiday, so I am dealing with it. I wonder which bits of my job I am allowed NOT to do while I do this?
As for medical matters, I now have an appointment to see the pre-operative clinic, ie be weighed, I suppose, and asked personal questions, and made to sign disclaimers in case they get bored and decide to remove anything important for fun while in there. It’s on, wait for it, the 11th of June. Now, what I really really want to know, does the six month waiting list start from March, when I was told I needed the surgery and would be put on the waiting list, or from the 11th of June itself? In which case I will be murdering someone, possibly Patricia Hewitt, on principle.
Family matters – my father was this end of the country for a completely unexpected flying visit. He tried to call me on Thursday morning to ask if I wanted to have lunch with him that day. Now, the answer would have been yes, indeed, thank you. But he called my home-phone while I was at work. So I didn’t get the message until too late. Is it too much to ask that he calls me at home at times when I am at home? Or that he tries my mobile number (which I have only given him ninety-seven times, so I suppose I can’t really blame him for not having it on his mobile)? Or failing the above, that he leaves a number at which I can get back to him, as he was clearly wearing his mobile in the ‘off’ position for the rest of Thursday and Friday? Or am I being unreasonable? In any case, he is now 500 miles away again, I still haven’t managed to get in touch with him, and the question is pretty much moot for another year.
What’s the betting he forgets my birthday again? (in less than two weeks, thank you for asking).
This week Fate has led me into two separate arguments, one as to whether IVF (especially on the NHS) is selfish and unnatural, and one as to whether childless women are selfish and unnatural. Is it me, or are we infertile girls kinda fucked either way then? In which case, can I be really selfish and unnatural, say I can’t stand puppy-dogs, be openly rude to clients, steal change from the charity tins in cafés, dye my hair fuchsia and drink gin every night? I mean, hell, at this point, what have I got to lose?