My Life Is Filled With Excitement.

Today, while I waited for the lady from Shaw Trust Employment and Training Agency to ring back so that I could arrange for phone interviews to take place on MJ's behalf while he is barred from the building (long story. The upshot is that he has started taking his medication again) I decided to run a little experiment.
     I wanted to find out what it would taste like to mix Coca-Cola (naughty sugar) with my usual tipple, Pepsi-Max (even more naughty chemical laden sweetners instead of sugar).
     The results were...interesting.
     Not particularly pleasant, though: shan't be doing that again.

Also today, a man turned up to look at our defective boiler.
     As we had been given no warning that he was coming the room hadn't been emptied (again), but at the sight of the clutter, Boiler Man was undaunted. I did not, he assured me smilingly, have to move everything out. Nay, I did not have to move ANYthing out; he was certain that he would manage just fine, no problem.
     Fear not, pretty lady; for I, Boiler Man, am here. =cue heroic pose=

(Well, alright, he didn't actually say that last part. But considering the mountain of debris he had to clamber over - which he did. And cheerfully, no less - he may as well have done. I was certainly impressed.)

The visit lasted a grand total of seven minutes. Turns out our boiler needed water in its tank. So he put some in, ran a few safety checks and presto! We have hot water, which is lovely.
     It's been really annoying having to wait for two kettles to boil every morning just to do the washing up.....

.....Which is not a massively big problem in the overall scheme of things, of course.
     Just...annoying.

Alice x

To The Lady That Jumped A Red Light and Raced Around A Corner Through A Pedestrian Crossing;

Hi.
     Remember me? I'm the poor innocent pedestrian that you very nearly ran straight into as you zoomed your way around the corner at a time when every vehicle coming from four different directions should have been stationary.
     And this - =points= - this is my dog, another pedestrian and as innocent as innocents get.

I bet you felt real smug, didn't you, beating all those other cars (the drivers of which, incidentally, were all obeying the law and staying put) by those precious few seconds. How many was it? 45? Maybe even 60?
     You certainly looked smug. Even as I - after darting out of the way pulling my dog with me - spread my hands and glared at you in angry disbelief, the realization that your impatience had very nearly caused a collision didn't seem to concern you in the least. Instead, you looked right at me, your phone to your ear - which is another bone of contention, by the way - with an infuriatingly casual expression and shrugged. Actually shrugged. 
      'What is all the fuss about', your face was clearly saying?

I'll tell you what the fuss was about, shall I?
      It's perfectly simple:
     OK, so I managed to get out of the way. Just. No lasting harm done. But what if I hadn't gotten out of the way? Would you have felt as smug and indifferent about your blatant and reckless law breaking if you had actually hit me with your car? Or how about my dog? Or how about if it hadn't been me, but a little old lady pulling a trolley? An elderly man with a walking stick? A person in a wheelchair? A mother pushing a pram?
     And how about if the person you ploughed into died? 
     Would those few seconds shaved off your journey have been such a boon then??

I doubt it.

So next time, for whatever reason you feel tempted to ignore the rules of the road, think about it. This time you were lucky. And thanks to reflexes I didn't know I had, so was I. Next time you might well encounter someone with slower reflexes and your luck, and theirs, may just run out.

And when that happens - and believe me, if you keep on doing what you are doing it will, eventually - that person's blood will be on your hands, and be there forever.
     Could you live with that?
     I couldn't.

So seriously, think about it.
     Please.

Yours (currently utterly despairing of human nature),
     The Random Girl You Nearly Killed.

I Am Currently Curled Up On The Sofa...

...wearing thick trousers, socks (also thick) and shoes - rather than slippers. Damn foot condition - on my lower half and three layers consisting of a thermal vest, a jumper and a fleece on my top half.
     Oh, and gloves.

I am dressed thus because, as you may have inferred, it is very cold. The house is, generally; apparently due to us having a cellar (which is suitably dank and morbid and unfortunately for the Electrical Division of the council's Health & Safety Inspectors is where the fuse box is located). This is a blessing in summer, of course, but of course in the winter that same blessing becomes a curse.
     It doesn't take much of a drop in temperature to create a chill like the one I am experiencing now throughout the property, and although this may make me sound like a wimp, it really can be quite unpleasant.
     As a well organized and civilized family unit my mother and I deal with this in a suitably mature and civilized way and play games such as Rock-Paper-Scissors, Heads & Tails and I Am Older/Younger/Tireder/More In Pain Right Now Than You Are Therefore It Is Your Turn Not Mine So There to determine which of the two of us has to leave the blissful warmth of the living room for whatever reason and face the arctic regions beyond. We also have electric blankets on both of our beds that we are massively grateful for.
     The central heating is never turned on (the reasons for this are complicated and involve a fridge), so everywhere else in the house stays as cold as it gets. But between the warm and toasty living room and our warm and toasty beds, we manage just fine and can cope with the stark frigidness of the rest of the place.

.....Usually.

Right now, however, the living room is not all warm and toasty.
     Right now the living room is as starkly frigid as the rest of the house is. I want to turn the fire on, truly I do (the dog truly wants me to, too), but I can't. Because the Gas Division of the Council's Health & Safety Inspectors is due any time now to service the fire. And  as one cannot service a gas fire that is has been on for a long time without burning oneself, off the gas fire stays. Hence the thermal vest and gloves. And if I had them, I would be wearing long-johns, too.
     .....Of course, said Gas Man (for want of a better term) could have with him special safety equipment in order to circumnavigate said heat - special gloves, for example - in which case I shall feel very silly. But then again, he might not have (particularly as he is employed by local government, which is known for his penny pinching) and if I took the chance and it turned out he hadn't he would have to leave doing his inspection and service, which in turn would upset the council. And one does not want to upset the council when one is residing in one of their buildings because trust me, it is not a good idea; not at all (even if unlike a lot of their tenants, you are paying both rent and tax in full every month).

So here I am. In thermal vest and gloves (thin ones, which is why I am able to type this without  - too much - difficulty) and waiting for a Gas Man that might not turn up, or might have turned up already while I was still at work (the lady I spoke to on the phone assured me that they would "note on their system" that there would be nobody there except the dog and cat until 12:45, but still you never can tell, can you?) and left again in a huff because nobody let him in, or might turn up and have special heat protecting gloves to wear in which case I will feel silly.

Either way, we shall see. And in the meantime, despite all the layers I have on, I am still cold.
     So is the dog.
     Of the two of us, I think he is the more upset (something he keeps reminding me of).

Alice x

UPDATE:
     The Gas Man arrived as I was signing my name to this whine of a Blog post, causing a mad scramble as I a) collared the dog (who always goes demented when the door knocks), b) found the key that I had carelessly left in the kitchen rather than in its customary place on the windowsill behind the TV and c) rushed to empty the cubby hole housing the diva of a boiler we can't actually make work so that he could service that as well.
     Lest anyone of a judgeful nature think me neglectful and lazy, by the way, with regards to (c), I wish to inform you all that I was assured by the woman I rang regarding my work schedule yesterday that it was a "gas fire service ONLY" and that the boiler wouldn't be touched, and therefore there would be no need to empty out the room it was stuck in the back of behind mountains of essential junk; but it turns out she was misinformed. That, or she is a spiteful wench that derives pleasure from the thought of causing chaos in the life of some poor council tenant that has done her no ill whatsoever, but on balance, I reckon the first assumption is probably correct.

Anyway, the room containing the boiler (and everything else we can't think what to do with) has been cleared, the Gas Man - having finished in the living room - is in there right now doing whatever it is Gas Men do to boilers, the gas fire itself is now on having been thoroughly (or at least I assume...?) serviced, the living room is toasty warm and the dog is stretched out on the carpet in blissful toasty warm comfort sound asleep.

All is well.

P.S. in case anyone was wondering; the Gas Man did have special heat protecting gloves, BUT upon curious questioning he confided that in the circumstance of continually touching a scorching hot surface for a great length of time (rather than taking hold and quickly letting go), they weren't all that much use. So he was grateful that the fire had been off; it meant that he could get straight in and plough his way through rather than having to wait or continually take breaks.
     So there, possible naysayers. Vindicated is I.
     =sticks out tongue=

So, It Is Common Knowledge That I Am Maladroit...

.....especially with what are considered 'practical matters'. Anything to do with fixing, adjusting, maintaining; I am useless (not my fault. I inherited it from my Mother).
     It's a problem that I have tried in the past to overcome, with predictably disastrous results.

This evening, however, I had another go.
     A pair of trousers had frayed a little and come apart between the legs, leaving a gap about one and a half inches long. I had two choices. a) give up the trousers as a bad lot and recycle them or b) have a go at sewing the gap up before it got any longer.
     I didn't have much faith in my ability to carry out choice 'b' successfully, but seeing as the worst that would happen is that the trousers would have to be cut up and turned into rags anyway, I settled down with needle and thread and set about having a go, and.....the results were not disastrous. Not great, admittedly, but not disastrous. In spite of initial doubts, It seems to have actually worked. The gap is sewn up. A little messily, but it feels comfortable enough and as it's between my legs - a place not many have ever looked - that doesn't really matter, does it?

In any case, the important thing is that I tried to fix something, and it actually worked.

I did it, Blog!
     I fixed something!
     Go me!

Alice x

P.S. I am aware, of course, that sewing up a one and a half inch gap is not the triumph of the century. In fact, in the grand scheme of things it's a pretty pathetic thing to get excited about.
     BUT, considering how crappy things have been lately (and how crappy they are likely to stay) I'll take whatever victory I can get. So there.

P.P.S: for anyone that is unaware, 'maladroit' is posh for 'exceptionally clumsy'. It is a term used to describe people with little or no ability in situations that require practical skill.
     There is actually a medical condition with similar symptoms called Dispraxia (which is what I have, albeit very mildly). At its most severe this condition can be monumentally debilitating. In my case, thankfully, as I said, the symptoms are terribly mild. Due to my inability to properly judge distance, however - a common trait in Dispraxia sufferers - I still manage to injure myself a good deal, particularly when I am at work. I generally end up with no worse than bumps and bruises and the odd muscle yank or skin graze, luckily, but still; as you can imagine it gets incredibly frustrating at times.
     .....Anyway, I'm both maladroit and dyspraxic, the latter the cause of the former.
     .....Which is why I get excited when I manage to fix things without breaking them (or me).

Dear....

***

Dear Toddler;
     I am very happy that you are such a happy seeming little chap. And I am glad that while your mother and her friend waited for nearly an hour for a member of staff to find or fix something for them - and spent their time waiting lavishing all of their attention on your baby sister rather than paying any attention on you - you found something to do that made you happy, even if it did involve running around in mad zig-zags and circles, some of which crossed repeatedly over the wooden floor(s) I was trying to mop.
     Just one thing, though: was it really necessary to scream at the top of your considerably powerful lungs while you did it?

 Yours (with a fond smile and a lingering headache),
Alice x


Dear Mother of Toddler/Mother's Friend;
     I hate you.
     Paying no attention to your child - who doesn't know any better and was just being a child - while he not only wrecked the work you could see me trying desperately to get done but also shouted and screeched painfully loudly is one thing (I don't think it's very nice, but I can't make you do otherwise). Allowing said child to actually leave your line of sight in a DIY store - a place filled with dangers you apparently can't comprehend - however, is so unutterably reprehensible as beggers belief.
      Yes, I know the baby you are jiggling up and down is adorable, but you have TWO children, not one. Act accordingly!

You are incredibly lucky that when you finally left the store that boy was still intact.

Yours (glaring with distaste),
Alice


Dear Bingo;
     By the time I took you on your evening walk, I was visibly at the end of both my energy and patience. Exhausted, cranky, achy...I'd had enough. All I wanted was a nice, peaceful and, more importantly, uneventful, stroll through the woods with my (obedient) dog.
     What I got was a stroll through the woods where you refused to come when called and proceeded to have a go at every naughty activity I get cross with you for within the course of 60 minutes.

.....Ta for that.

Yours (ruefully),
Alice x


Dear Mother;
     Without your moral and practical support, I would have gone insane by now.

.....Ta for that.

Yours (lovingly),
Alice x

***

...can you tell my day has gone well?

Alice x

I Am Sure That Nobody Else -

- has to convince their dog that there is a cat waiting to be chased outside the back door just to get him to go into the garden to do a wee (that he desperately needs) to hold him over till his next walk.
     .....Every, damn, time.....

I am sure that nobody else has to do that.

=SIGH=

Alice x

PS: in case you are wondering; despite his undoubted intelligence, yes he does fall for it.
     Every damn time.

It's Been A Hectic...

...and not altogether pleasant week and a half or so. Not that pleasant things didn't happen, because they did. I'm just in a bit of a dark cave right now (as my mother compassionately put it last night). I can see daylight, and keep trying to walk towards it, and I nearly succeed, but then all of a sudden all the bad thoughts will rush in and start shouting at me and I will have a panic attack and start crying and then I'm back where I started again.
     All this is perfectly normal. I keep being told that. Perfectly normal. Perfectly natural.
     .....Great.
     Doesn't make it suck any less.

Anyway. Today has been a better, closer to the daylight kind of day. I feel OK. Level. Calm. Stable.
     I stay like that as long as I am too distracted to think.
      Which is probably the reason why, after a hard shift at work, I felt the desperate urge after a brief sit down to not only do the quick vacuume and wipe round through the house I had planned, but also to then drag the cooker out and clean behind that as well (for the first time in...when did we move here?...in five years). Oh, and clean the inside and outside of the fridge. 

=shrugs=
     Whatever works.

Anyway, that is not what I came online to share (though, kitchen cleaner than it has ever been: yay!). What I wanted to do was to repeat this quote I found online while looking for something else:

"Beauty comes in all shapes and sizes. It just so happens that I have more beauty to go around."

Cool, eh?
     As someone who is aiming to lose weight*, but not to be anything remotely near 'thin', I like that.
     I like that a lot.

Alice x

* 3lbs so far. Not at all bad considering my average portion size. 
     .....2 stone 11lbs to go. =sigh=.....