Traitorous little brutes

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.


6 responses to “Traitorous little brutes

  • a

    They (your colleagues) are probably surfing the internet instead of working. That may or may not be what I do a lot of the day. But my work does get done…

    You know what’s handy? Most places here in the US will now call you the day before your appointment to remind you – from the hair salon to the doctor’s office. Sometimes they like to call to inform you that if you don’t show up, they will charge you $25 anyway, so it’s like a threatening phone call. Either way, it might prevent you from showing up 6 hours early.

    Mouse…ick. Kill it! Or leave it, if you can blame squeaking on it. No. Kill it. They’re supposed to live OUTSIDE and there is no mercy to any who forget that rule. I do not care if it’s winter.

  • Heather

    Please tell me H is going to take care of the mouse!! And tell Satsuma to quit messing with you – it isn’t polite!

    As for your coworkers, I’m sorry they suck. I hate having to clean up other people’s messes because they are slack.

    Good luck Monday. Thinking of you.

  • twangy

    Oh dear, you are having a week of it.
    Snoring husband, absentee colleagues? Mouse invasion, moody ovary? GAH.
    And Recurrent Miscarriage Clinic – can they not think of a nicer name? That alone would be enough to make anyone nervous.

    Best of luck with it. Hoping for best possible results for you and H.

  • Valery

    o yes, the eaten comment thing. Sometimes with extra teaser that the preview works…almost there… and then nothing. (typepad)
    Monday Clinic day it will be. Mine is called VEVO and I have no clue what those letters are for. An ultrasound it will be for me. Do you have any idea what they’ll do to you? Hope it helps.

  • Secret D

    The staff in your library sound about as good as the staff in my library.

    The miscarriage clinic does sound like a bit of a nightmare, I hope it is OK. Squeak, squeak.

  • Hairy Farmer Family

    Will be thinking of you on Monday, sweetheart.
    And I didn’t think it was possible to love you more until I read ‘chainsaw in a bucket of soap’…

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