Item – Hello, blogspot bloggers. Blogspot’s openID thingy is having sporadic fits of amnesia and won’t let me sign on/in/up. Or, sometimes, it will let me. And then, will eat the comment. I am getting quite cross, as it seems to be happening on every blogspot blog I visit. Only, sporadically. Sometimes it gives over and lets me comment, oh, sweet sweet taste of bloggy community, just to make sure I don’t stop trying. But, if you think I jolly well should have commented on your blog by now, well, I absolutely agree with you.
Item – More signs of my sudden and catastrophic loss of IQ points. I turned up for my acupuncture appointment on Monday, umm, six hours early. Umm. Oops. I even booked the hour off work so I could be there. Six hours early. So I couldn’t come back at the right time. Umm. The Snazzy Clinic couldn’t rebook me until next Wednesday. Fair enough. Also AAAAAAAAAARGH. And then I went and spent my hour off drinking coffee in the nicest coffee-shop I could find. So there.
Item – Satsuma is playing silly buggers. She gave an operatically fine imitation of an ovary ovulating on Tuesday, and I applauded her with great delight and threw roses and everything, and on Wednesday my basal body temperature was actually down, not up. Hateful little gonad, she’d completely faked me out. I was all optimistic. I am now running at 87% Crushed Expectation to 13% Hacked Off. Also, I can no longer interpret and understand my body’s signals. It’s like being shouted at and randomly hit by a man zipped into a sleeping-bag.
Item – Tuesday would have been good. H and I actually had sex on Monday night. After a monkish sort of week and all. Since when, we’re back to separate rooms. Oh, don’t panic, we still love each other. H just has a cold, and he snores like a chain-saw in a bucket of soap when he has a cold, and I can’t sleep what with the racket (and am not sleeping much without it, I am so sane these days) and he would rather not spend his nights in imminent danger of being beaten to a bloody pulp by an enraged woman armed with a pillow (and, tellingly, no glasses, so it might not be a pillow she grabs in the dark at three am… I haven’t beaten him to death with his own bottom yet…). Anyway. Monkishness coupled with ovarian fakery coupled with it being, what, day 36? of this arse-biscuit of a cycle, and I am stressed.
Item – I tend not to discuss work here too much. Anyway, I mostly like my job. This week? I not like my job. All the sensible competent colleagues are on leave or off sick. I have spent most of the week doing other people’s jobs so as the library doesn’t fall to splinters under the pressure-cooker of Stuff Not Done In Their Absence. And I keep finding things that have been done badly, or haven’t been done at all for weeks, and ‘what,’ I cried, repeatedly, ‘what exactly are they doing all day every day if they aren’t doing this? Huh? Huh? Huh?’ And then I have more (too much) coffee and miss half my lunch-break and stay on late and now I hate my colleagues. I’m sure this is not good for my karma. Another thing to blame on my colleagues: Karmic wear-and-tear.
Item – There’s a freaking mouse cantering about the kitchen. A mouse. A great fat brown one. With little chompy teeth. Pooing and widdling as it goes. ARGH.
Item – Monday, Recurrent Miscarriage Clinic. Nervous? Me? I’m never nervous. The squeaky noise is the mouse. Not me grinding my teeth. Oh no.