* I have been asked this question at least twice by management so far this year.
Why? Because I need to learn when to keep my big, fat mouth s.h.u.t.
There are mysteries afoot in the office. Sly intrigues not destined to be fathomed; and apparently I should just keep my head down and stay quiet 'til bonus time.
Something tells me this is improbable, if not implausible.
Meanwhile, it's almost three months since this post and the outcomes in the intervening time have been blandly predictable. Things did indeed g0 Wrong (with a capital 'w'). The fallout is just beginning to hit but – predictably – no one seems to be responsible or accountable.
It's suspiciously like the workplace is divided into two discreet camps; people-who-might-fuck-up, and people-who-shit-rainbows-and-puppy-dogs.
Guess which one I'm in.
ask yourself how much you really want to be here*
I should not:
- bake cookies, because then I have to eat them all by myself
- be so mesmerised by boobs
- keep going to bed late and therefore waking up tired
- continue to hold in my venom just because I've learned not to say what I think
- keep beating myself up about my weight
- avoid the blogosphere because I am lazy
- swallow battery acid
The teeth are crappy, and no doubt expensive
A bit of one of my top molars came loose last night. I've put it on the kitchen window sill and marvel at its small, white shininess while making tea.
Meanwhile, hot things, cold things, crunchy things, gelatinous things - indeed, all things - hurt when I eat them.
I have spoken to my dentist and am now on a cancellation waiting list. If no one cancels today then I will have to wait until Wednesday to be seen.
This is what I get for not making a dental appointment when I already knew for sure that I needed work done.
always in threes
There are times when being married is the most comforting thing in the world because of the safety that comes in numbers.
If you've ever had a spider in your car, been invited to a friend's wedding or needed a light at the bus stop, you'll appreciate that other people aren't always hell. Sometimes other people are an absolute necessity. Other people kill spiders, fill empty chairs and light cigarettes.
Ah, but husbands... Husbands are more than mere other people. Husbands are super heroes.
When something needs fixing, burning, pruning or building; they don't worry themselves about the hows, whys or wheres. They roll up their sleeves and get straight to sorting it out. No time to worry about protecting the hardwood floor or securing the trailer; not when there's work to be done.
Which is why it's so very handy to have the Monkey-husband about the house when I pull one of my rare but spectacular fuck-up stunts.
Today I out did myself:
No, it's not The Blob. That's what happens when you put an everyday plastic chopping board in the oven.
Like a complete idiot.
It happened very simply. Despite my better judgment, I used a plastic board as a trivet while I added dripping to a roasting pan for Yorkshire pudding. Then I picked up the pan and put it back in the oven without realising that the board was stuck to it.
I was momentarily perplexed when I opened the oven 5 minutes later to lift the pan out for the pudding batter and it wouldn't budge.
There are moments in life when you regress to a pre-adolescent state, assume the fetal position and hope that someone else will make the horror stop.
This was one of those; and I've never been so grateful for the can-do attitude of the Monkey. He stepped up and totally sorted that mess o-u-t.
And he did it without a care in the world - even though it topped off a day which has already seen the demise of the Toastamatic and the toasting of his server.
Thank you, Monkey-husband. Today was truly a red letter day for the Dickersby household.
dooced
I used to have another blog, but then my employer found it. It's cool, I wasn't fired; but I was treated like a pariah for writing rather too candidly about my experiences of depression.
Sigh.
They even made me get a note from my GP about how "I am not a danger to myself or others." I shit you not.
In order to put it all behind me, I figured the best thing to do would be to start fresh with a new blog. One that can't be googled for by accident and taken out of context.
We shall see... Context has not often been kind to me.
P.S. It's true, scout's honour. I am not a danger to myself or others.
