You know what it's like when you're so tired that it's a real struggle to even lift your head from the pillow, but you know you have to drag your arse out of bed to go to work because you can't phone in sick because you have to give a presentation and then when you're there you desperately want to cancel the contact lens follow-up appointment you've made for that evening because you might as well wait until your new specs are ready to pick up so you phone them up to tell them but they tell you that your specs are ready so you might as well go that evening afterall even though you feel like you're dying and the prospect of sticking contact lenses back in your pisshole eyes makes you feel physically sick?
Well, that's how I feel.
The combination of lack of sleep, a slight cold, hormones, stresses (good and bad) means that Sniffy is very very tired at the moment.
But why so stressed?
Well, Sniffy has finally, after about five years of trying, FINALLY got a new job, starting in May. This means that I have to do shitty things like handovers to the morons I work with at the moment as well as start picking up new bits of information about the new job. So that's good stress.
Another good/bad stress is... buying a house. We're doing a part exchange on Trump's place for a new build (Bellway). I think we're getting a good deal. I have no idea about these things. It's in the hands of solicitors and a financial adviser. I'm keeping my head down until I'm asked to sign a cheque or a contract and once all the savings have gone and the contract is signed, the bad stress will turn into good stress. I am naturally pessimistic and wary of things, especially things involving housing developers and solicitors, but we'll see how things go.
The return of the neighbourly squeaky chickenI hope Rocky will be happy in Bellend Towers. He'll have to encounter something that he's never had to face before in his short life: doors. HA!
He's very happy at the moment; having chewed up all his squeaky soft toys so the stuffing has fallen out, I have resurrected his
squeaky rubber chicken. I'd forgotten how much he likes it. It is VERY loud and I do hope our neighbours don't get disturbed by its constant squeaking during the day while we're out of the house. It would be such a shame if he did anything to piss them off.
On one side, we have the Asian couple with the small children. They're OK in the main, but it can be a bit annoying being woken up at 4am by the man's screaming down the phone to somebody in Lahore or Karachi or Islamabad (see, I do know the names of some foreign places outside Europe and North America!). And I'm sure the sofa propped up against their window hasn't put off any potential purchasers of Trump Towers... no, not at all. Not that we haven't printed off the information for the FREE PICK UP service from the council and given it to them twice or anything. No, we wouldn't think of doing anything like that.
On the other side we have Mr and Mrs Fagash and their extraordinarily loud telly. I like the way I can hear what they're watching in their living room from our bedroom upstairs. I like the way they have a visitor for a couple of hours, but continue to have a ten minute conversation in their open doorway while blowing cig smoke into our house. I love the bloke's impression of a pig at an abattoir whenever he has an asthma attack in the bedroom adjacent to ours at 1am.
People eh?
15th April 2008That's today's date. On this day last year, it was sunny with a temperature of about 23°C. Today, exactly a year later, it's about 8°C max, with heavy showers. I had to scrape ice from my car's windscreen this morning. It's fucking freezing.
