I was sitting here feeling all sorry for myself about having done not very much this weekend. You know lack of accomplishment kills me – this is why I am a loser with a capital ‘l’ – capitals in titles always make things look more impressive. Anyway, pan to my sitting here, frumpy, hair unwashed, in trackies [oh shut up], and wasting time feeling sorry for myself because I got too tired to finish the cleaning and have left the flat looking like something exploded [one more Saturday shift and I will but that’s a whole other story]. And then I sat here and thought about what I’ve actually done today. Hell, I got up before midday on a Monday – that’s my Sunday, before midday, awake, me! That possibly makes more of an impression on the people who know what a champion sleeper I am. I also kicked the arses of some tasks that have been waiting months or years for me to get ‘round to. I’m actually getting my tax done this year – I made an actual appointment – my sister, frequently unbearable as older sisters so often are, has been absolutely hideous since she started working for the tax office and would have been positively grotesque if I’d left it another year. I do believe that she goes out of her way to find things to nag me about. Like a mother only three years older than me and able to punch like a man [this is what happens when men don’t have sons – they teach their little princesses to hit – hard]. Making appointments is quite hard work that was the beginning of the end really. After that I phoned the bank to, ah, sort out my finances. Ah, fools, ever willing to bail me out – unlike my parents – and with a lesser rate of interest. That was an entertaining conversation largely because I didn’t know that I could do virtually everything over the phone and because I managed to sound like a fuckwit on several occasions. For example, on being asked how much I grossed etc I had to reply that I didn’t actually know – this was made marginally better by the fact that I don’t know because I’ve just gotten a pay rise [yes, Rins, pick yourself up off the floor] and I have yet to discover exactly how much money I’ll lose in tax HECS etc. Also, me and basic calculations? Surely you jest! I also couldn’t name my real estate agents. Hey, I can’t remember everything now, can I?
Aside from this too-exciting too-much information, oh wait, I’m continuing with the too much information, I’ve managed to wash the dust and aviation fuel of the better part of thirty years from the rather decrepit Venetians, sort out the books, launder everything – except for that one towel [blue] that I accidentally mistook for the carpet [brown], and, um, sit around and stuff. I also bought baby shower stuff which was every bit as trying as it was tiring. Quickly, is there etiquette for a baby shower that I ought to know about? I’m guessing abortion and disabilities are well out…and dying young, of course. Oh crap, it was easier when we were having an unofficial family feud – then I just didn’t get invited to the birthdays and baby showers and fuck only knows what. Still, you know, family…*cries*
Now I’m running out of time and energy, I really must reserve some energy else I’ll have to sleep on bare mattress. Very uncivilised.
Oh shit, the washing!