I was supposed to be back in work after my Christmas break today, but I couldn't face it so I extended my leave for a couple more days. It's so depressing going back after a break. It should really make me more determined to get off my arse and get another job, but it just sends me spiralling into another depression that only lifts for a couple of months from May onwards.
There's got to be more to life than going through the motions of a job that brings little satisfaction or financial compensation. Thank goodness for the love of Trump and my friends and family... and my love of them... and gadgets.
My latest favourite gadget is a little FM transmitter that makes it possible to listen to an MP3 player through my car's stereo (some people refer to them as iTrips, but iTrips are supposed to be a bit rubbish); a fantastic little device that saved many hours of boredom on the drive to and from Norfolk over the past week.
There's something about Lincolnshire that makes me want to see it flattened, if it's possible to flatten the flattest county in the land. I'd travelled half way across the county on my way back from Norfolk when I looked at the trip clock to see that it had taken me an hour and three quarters to travel all of seventy miles. Lincolnshire's only redeeming feature is its pig farming heritage that brings us some wonderful pork products, the rest of it can be sacrificed as a chemical weapons test site or nuclear reactor for all I care.
Clicky
At the time of year when I really ought to be getting my arse down the gym, I'm actually scared of going because my left knee has developed a rather worrying and uncomfortable click whenever I descend stairs and things. I'm just worried in case it gives way completely while I'm on a treadmill. Let's face it, it's undignified enough as it is without my collapsing in agony.
I'm trying to persuade Trump to take up a bit of exercise with me. We're thinking of hanging out on bikes and doing jumps on the field near her house. I'm sure it would do wonders for our respective credibilities amongst the gangs of local ne'er do wells and car thieves who use the same field to drive stolen cars on before setting fire to them.
Ah well, I won't know whether my knee will hold out unless I give it a go.
Fuck, why did I let myself go?
16 comments:
At least you took leave!
Half the prats I work with phoned in sick, leaving the rest of us to struggle on through the dark and the misery.
Fuckers.
Happy New Year Sniffmeister!
I've had clicky knees most of my life. Get the dr to check it out. He'll probably prescribe anti-inflamatories for a while but if they don't help then it'll be a case of just live with it.
Lincolnshire is not the flattest county in the country because it has the wolds; it's Norfolk. Don't forget that it also has a massive income from chickens and turnips, beets and other root vegetables. Some of my family live in Lincolnshire.
Will you be jumping flaming cars on your bike? You could sell tickets and go to work part-time. I'm sure we can all club together to get you a sparkly set of leathers and a cape.
Happy New Year.
Norfolk, Lincolnshire, it's all the same when you can't fucking overtake because there are no bastard dual carriageways in either county!
If I perfect my juggling skills, I might be able to do juggling while jumping the burning cars on my bike, wearing nought but a glittering cape and some nipple tassels.
Norfolk isn't flat - it's surrounded by cliffs and has loads of gentle hills and valleys. Not that I take any notice of them, not since they didn't get me a Christmas present! I'm ignoring them now - Bloody landscapes. Think they're so special! Bah!
I associate Norfolk with turkeys and Alan Partridge.
Head for the hills of bonny Jockland next time. The locals will hate you, but at least you won't suffer agraphobia.
It makes me twitchy. There's no bus stops. That means no escape routes should things get really bad.
I did learn about Me Too, a Cbeebies show that plummets to the depths of true shit. It's for kids, but after 2 hours in the flatlands of Norfolk, my brain could only cope with shite tv and chocolate oranges.
New Year in Scotland? Are you completely fucking insane? I'd rather eat my own feet than be around that bunch of pissed up hogmaniacs? No thank you!
It's bad enough watching the fools on Me Too and Balafuckingmorey; I certainly don't want to be trapped in a country with them without consular representation. Or a taser.
I developed a crunchy knee a couple of years ago. Doesn't hurt or anything, just sounds like I'm treading on Cornflakes.
I've found that if I breathe loudly while going up stairs or mutter to myself, I don't hear it.
It's great practise for when I become a grumpy old lady, instead of the grumpy old 30-something that I am now. I'm so lucky.
Hi FT.
Mine is more like a snapping sort of click. Very odd. But my knees have always been weird, never really been able to lock my legs straight without feeling like something was about to give - sometimes I get excruciating pain when I try it, it's very exciting standing up at times.
I have one of those car-player thingies for my Nano. I Luuuuuurve it. I only listen to the radio long enough to hear the traffic report and then I plug that baby in and groove out. Long solo car trips are now completely bearable.
Well, I HAD been looking at one that's designed for the iPod, but I ended up with one that fits all music players via the headphone socket. Works a treat.
Happy New Year Sniffy! And Trump too of course. I've had clicky elbows for as long as I can remember. God forbid I try to do a push up, it sounds like my elbows are slowly grinding themselves down to nothing. Convict is right, your doc likely perscribe anti-inflams if they're bothering you. I find though that the side effects I get from most of them are not worth the small amount of relief they offer me. However, everyone's different.
And Norfolk can't be any flatter than Saskatchewan. People there encounter a curve and have to pull over because it confuses them.
Dykes on bikes, eh?
*shudders*
Good line Taz;
Dikes on bikes
Good luck with the excercise programme, Tina! My 5.5yo hasn't enjoyed getting his nails clipped ever since he was a baby, so I started saying "clicky! clicky!" enthusiastically to distract him. It worked!
Happy New Year and get your arse back to the grindstone. You know they need you.
Happy New Year! May 2007 bring you and Trump some valuable street cred amongst the local gangs - also a possible 'in' to the exciting and lucrative career of car theft. Think of some gangsta names for yourselves.
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