I’ve had one of those weeks where every single thing has gone wrong.
Out of the blue at 11am Thursday morning I received a request for a house viewing that afternoon, so a mad scramble ensued to get everything cleaned, tidied and perfect. After the viewing I received 5 stars on the feedback form, so the house was just what he wanted. He then preceded to say my immaculate little cottage wasn’t worth what I was asking for it and wanted to knock £25,000 off the price. I would have laughed if I hadn’t been so fucking exhausted.
Feeling really MEish and unwell, that evening I got into bed just wanting to chill with a brew and Say Yes To The Dress. Turned on the telly…………and saw the dreaded blue screen with ‘no satellite signal’. Arrrgghhhhhh. I eventually worked out that when I was recording a programme the signal went off from every other channel, so I tried all the usual fixes but nothing worked. *Sob*. However, I got up the next morning with renewed determination to not spend £60 on a Sky engineer, removed all the cables, cleaned them and put them back and yayyy I’m back to watching grown women fight over whether to buy the sexy mermaid or the humongous ballgown. Get the meringue you weirdo, it’s your wedding day and the only time in your entire life you get to look like a
toilet roll holder princess 😉
I was woken at 4.30am on Saturday by the sound of my dog retching. Pets at Home no longer stock the hard rubber balls he loves so I’ve had to order some from t’internet. While I was waiting for them to arrive I gave him a softer ball someone had put in his Xmas stocking last year, only he tore it to bits behind my back and swallowed it 😮 So at 4.45am I was cleaning up vomit laden with bits of white rubber while the dog promptly went back to sleep and had the cheek to snore. And bugger me, if at 4.15am this morning the mutt didn’t wake again retching, though this time he just upchucked bile 😦 I do hope he hasn’t got rubber lodged somewhere and needs vet assistance – it sounds terrible but I don’t have the time, energy or cash this month to be dealing with a sick Bertie on top of everything else.
My cleaner let me down on Wednesday and my dog walker couldn’t come on Friday. Again.
I have put on a shed load of weight in recent months and currently look like a Telly Tubby. I got my winter clothes out this week and my jeans actually laughed at me when I tried to fasten them, so I’ve had to buy some new kit. I spent ages on the M&S website picking out stuff to hide my Tinky Winky arse, go to the checkout……..and my credit card had expired. Fuckety fuck fuck. There’s a link for me to add a new card, but when I click on it nothing happens. So I stab the keyboard repeatedly with my finger, but surprisingly the link still doesn’t open. After the week I’ve had I want to blow my laptop to smithereens with a home-made bomb but I resist because knowing my luck I’d be arrested as a terrorist. I try another browser, same result. So I have to start from scratch, enter the ‘my account’ section, add a new card, then re-shop and re-checkout. I’m too tired for this shit.
I have two major photography events coming up – more on those at a later date – but suffice to say I needed to print fifteen A3 size pictures off………..and I ran out of ink. I also needed to mount and frame ten of the pictures, so I sent for 5 frames off Amazon to match 5 existing frames I have – it’s really important everything is perfect. I waited 10 days for the frames to arrive, not realizing the order wasn’t fulfilled by Amazon but by some company in outer-mon-shagging-golia, and then when they got here they were fakes and nothing like my existing frames. Now panicking as I have a deadline, I’ve had to pay £45 more for the frames directly from the manufacturer and my heart is in my mouth waiting for them to arrive and for them to not be damaged in any way.
While I was sat on the lounge carpet mounting my pictures I reached behind me for the scissors……………….and felt something in my pelvis snap. Ouch. Ouch. Fucking OUCH! My guess would be I’ve subluxed my SI joint and torn the ligament. Again. I’m now barely able to hobble and in constant pain during the busiest month I’ve had in a decade. Thank you Universe for your help and compassion, you twat.
Today my Dad is going to a nearby Castle for a memorabilia weekend to which he’s submitted some images of his Dad who used to work there in the 1950s. Unfortunately I am unable to take him in the wheelchair as I’m going to a literary festival with a friend, so my brother is going with him. However, he flatly refuses to push him round in the wheelchair even though he’s totally fit and well, so my Dad asked if he could borrow my little mobility scooter that goes in the car boot. For 2 years now while my Dad has hardly been able to walk I have tried to persuade him to use a mobility scooter but would he? No! He’s either hobbled around in agony or he’s made his sick daughter push him in the wheelchair, but the second my brother tells him to use the scooter he’s on it. I’m so pissed I could slap the pair of them. So I’ve had to virtually dismantle the shed to get the scooter out (I don’t use it anymore as I now have a big road scooter), clean it, charge the battery, put it together to let my Dad have a go so he knows how to use it, then spend an hour writing instructions with pictures for my brother on how to take it apart and put it back together for transportation. Because I’m’ clearly not having a busy enough week.
Since my recent phantom period my stomach has been swollen like a football and I have not been in the best of humours (just in case you can’t tell from this post). However, today I am meeting my bestie for lunch and we are going to listen to a couple of speakers talk about some shite I can’t even remember and I am very much looking forward to getting out of the house and doing something different. I’ve been awake since 4.15am, am dizzy and my pelvis is on fire but I’m sure driving 60 miles and sitting on a hard chair for a few hours will be grand and if I pass out my mate will cover me with her jacket and let me sleep.