just be me

i’ve been in london. not the best place when you are electrostatically challenged – as in you have to swipe twenty times a day to get in an out of buildings and travel and hotel and beep I’m the exception to the rule. Everery frigging time.

I even short circuited the hotel electrics just being me. There has to be a place where peope like me can live. It’s not london. Oh god it’s smoke free too. It’s no longer London, it’s Stepford.

since I had insomnia. It can’t be 2.19. It just can’t.

It’s all because there are 20 pages of Christopher Brookmyre left and I so want to read them but if I do I’ll have to wake up tomorrow with that horrible feeling you get when you wake up and remember you finished a damn good book and can therefore no longer look forward to it. And tomorrow already has the odds stacked against it.

Arg, decisions.

IS THE DAY. The damned report will be finished tomorrow because I want one day off while my kids are off so we can go out and just be us.

Tomorrow I am going to wake up early, finish & hand on report and go to the beach.

Even if it is raining. Because I only have one life and my kids are going to grow up and when I’m on my deathbed I want to remember a rainy day having fun on the beach with little people rather than a hot day inside struggling with impossible data, warm baked coca-cola and conference-call earache.

So deadline will be met by 4pm tomorrow (3 days late). And if I don’t report deadline being met can someone remind me please?

soooo tired. All I want to do is sleep for a week.

The performance review thing I have to fill in before dragging my sorry arse to the mothership is looking like a cryptic crossword puzzle.

I perform. Day in, day out. I’m so busy performing that my brain is too tired to perform about my performance. If only someone would just powerpoint that for me and come up with some convincing figureszzzzzzz

a rough christmas. Some of us are getting increasingly intolerant in our old age and I can’t work out which of us it is. I know I am, but I’m sure I’m not the only one. Three grown women and a turkey is just asking for trouble isn’t it?

Foie gras and confitures d”onion could be
Liver paté and branston

It’s such a shame to be a non-foody person
And live in foody-pool

I’m having foie gras with Branston Pickle
and it’s heaven.

edit: That my friends is what happens when you have consumed too much Turkish pastis.

the busyness. I don’t want to be busy any more. Busy is hateful. It’s FRIDAY and this is my time.

What are the chances that if I start writing an entry on 43things the doorbell will go?

Edit: Five bloody minutes and the phone went.

that i am not ready to clean up my life

I tried the clean up my life test and scored an average of about three per category, I even failed the ‘are you ready for a life coach’ thing.

I did clean up my life by recycling the paper it was printed on. And made my life better by not having more shit to clutter my workspace with.

Otherwise I am always open to life-helping things. Like finding out how he got to be a .org and not a .com.

ME is going to be super pro-active (i hate that word), positive, energetic and doingful from now on. I’ve been moping about being half-arsed and dithering about whether this new life was a huge mistake and that’s not going to get things done round here is it?

It’s 7am I am awake, showered, dressed and wearing MAKE-UP don’t think that has happened since I started working from home. I’m going to do last night’s washing up, while having a little warble to Cat Stevens, clean up the office while having a little warble to Jack Johnson, sweep the floor without being on a teleconference, AND I’m going to do the paperwork to get the kids enrolled in school.

GO GO GO….

likes to read and write. Me has been forced to deal with material objects or put up with endless comments about how useless me is for nearly a week (and even my self-esteem has its limits). I haven’t written anything, I haven’t read anything. I’ve been a severely good girl. I’ve been trying so hard to get into homemakery. But gaaaaaa. I hate every minute.

Me is looking forward to reading and writing again. Two days to go and rellies go home and I love them to death but oof I can be me again. Useless little ready-writey me :)