fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck
Jun. 12th, 2012 12:26 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anonymousblueberryToday is sucking an untold number of goats. I didn't get to sleep until about 3am, and then I woke up at about 5, dropped off for a couple more hours and then ached so much I had to get up.
I won stuff on ebay, a minor victory.
Then the post shows up with a letter for my mum (dead 10 years) which ok, sometimes it happens and it gives me an excuse to ring up the local politicians and yell at them for being shit (it's usually them sending out flyers). But no, this is from someone I've not heard of, informing mum that a relative? (close family friend, I'm not 100% on the relation) has passed away. This is a person who dad and I spent ages trying to track down; we kept getting xmas cards addressed to mum, but they never had a return address on them, so we could never tell her that mum was dead. Anyway, yeah, letters for dead people about dead people, always fun for all the family.
Then I have to go pay the gas and electric (blah, nothing major, but money, always with the money) and the nice lady at the bank tells me that there's a message on the system saying that should I want a loan, I'd be approved for one. Er, great, or something.
So then I come home, and figure I'll unpack more stuff from the spare room. It's getting somewhere (it'd be getting even further if dad would shift his crap out of here) and I was happily putting all my cook books on the shelf over the couch (as a stop gap, the shelf I want to use currently has left over kitchen floor tiles on it). But no sooner have I finished doing that, than the fucking thing falls off the fucking wall. Looks like there were possibly a few too many heavy books on a not massively well attached to the wall shelf. Thankfully, I wasn't sitting on the couch, and my laptop was on the table charging. Otherwise I'd have a serious head injury and I'd be down another piece of computing equipment.
So yes, goat sucking and suck. I'm going to go and find some lunch (hopefully without killing myself in the process) and then make bolognase sauce (again, hopefully without killing myself).
I might go back to cleaning, or I might just hide under a blanket with my laptop for the rest of the day until dad shows up for this letter.
I won stuff on ebay, a minor victory.
Then the post shows up with a letter for my mum (dead 10 years) which ok, sometimes it happens and it gives me an excuse to ring up the local politicians and yell at them for being shit (it's usually them sending out flyers). But no, this is from someone I've not heard of, informing mum that a relative? (close family friend, I'm not 100% on the relation) has passed away. This is a person who dad and I spent ages trying to track down; we kept getting xmas cards addressed to mum, but they never had a return address on them, so we could never tell her that mum was dead. Anyway, yeah, letters for dead people about dead people, always fun for all the family.
Then I have to go pay the gas and electric (blah, nothing major, but money, always with the money) and the nice lady at the bank tells me that there's a message on the system saying that should I want a loan, I'd be approved for one. Er, great, or something.
So then I come home, and figure I'll unpack more stuff from the spare room. It's getting somewhere (it'd be getting even further if dad would shift his crap out of here) and I was happily putting all my cook books on the shelf over the couch (as a stop gap, the shelf I want to use currently has left over kitchen floor tiles on it). But no sooner have I finished doing that, than the fucking thing falls off the fucking wall. Looks like there were possibly a few too many heavy books on a not massively well attached to the wall shelf. Thankfully, I wasn't sitting on the couch, and my laptop was on the table charging. Otherwise I'd have a serious head injury and I'd be down another piece of computing equipment.
So yes, goat sucking and suck. I'm going to go and find some lunch (hopefully without killing myself in the process) and then make bolognase sauce (again, hopefully without killing myself).
I might go back to cleaning, or I might just hide under a blanket with my laptop for the rest of the day until dad shows up for this letter.
