Happiness is..... lying in bed taking your mind off your headache and stomach cramps whilst listening to the sound of your cat happily chasing a ball bearing up and down over the floorboards of the bedroom on the floor below.
It's even happier when she bats it into the air and then tries to catch it in a frantic thudding flurry.
Truly. One of the best sounds I've heard for a long time.
Alice xxx
PS: in case you are wondering, actually watching Suzie play with the ball bearing (a small metal ball the size of a large pea. Goodness knows how and where she found it, but it's hers now, in any case) is unfortunately impossible. Thanks to the treatment she received before she came to us (dealt out to her by people that will some day, I am sure, be rotting in Hell having the same treatment dealt out to them as punishment), she is far too shy and skittish for that. The best we can do is listen to her and smile, imagining what it would look like.
Anyway: ball bearing plus privacy plus a nice wooden floor equals a happy cat.
= smiles =
Wednesday, 28 August 2013
Thursday, 22 August 2013
Tuesday, 20 August 2013
For Your Amusement; Some Things I Overheard:
SNIPPET NUMBER 1.
~ START ~
Scene begins in Kidderminster Town Centre. Alice is walking along singing - can't remember what - inside her head. Two other women are walking behind her. At a crossing, with everyone paused ready for the traffic to come to a stop, she hears a snippet of the conversation....
WOMAN 1: (balefully) ...so then he asked me to "drive over the roundabout".
WOMAN 2: (after doubtful pause) ...you DIDN'T actually go 'OVER' the roundabout...did you?
WOMAN 1: (indignant) well *I* didn't know! How could I know??
WOMAN 2: (stifles giggle) what happened after that?
WOMAN 1: well, he wasn't very pleased...
~ END ~
SNIPPET NUMBER 2.
~ START ~
Scene begins soon after SNIPPET NUMBER 1 as Alice pauses again at a different set of traffic lights in Kidderminster Town Centre. Two men pass by and part of their conversation becomes audible...
MAN 1: ....Then she asked me if she looked fat.
MAN 2: (pauses. then, incredulous) Tell me you didn't say "YES"??
MAN 1: (sheepish) Well...
MAN 2: Oh, Bro; Never, EVER...
MAN 1: Well I KNOW NOW!
~ END ~
And while I'm in the mood: SNIPPET NUMBER 3.
~ START ~
Scene begins as Alice boards a bus (many moons ago). Two girls are waiting in line behind her as tickets are purchased, talking about their day at school...
GIRL 1: It's so unfair! THREE detentions in one week! And I have to scrape chewing gum off of all of the desks and stuff. Gross. I think Mr. Paddock's really horrible.
GIRL 2: (doubtful tone) well, to be fair, you DID set fire to the...
GIRL 1: (interrupts angrily) that was an ACCIDENT!
GIRL 2: well, yeah, but still...
~ END ~
~ START ~
Scene begins in Kidderminster Town Centre. Alice is walking along singing - can't remember what - inside her head. Two other women are walking behind her. At a crossing, with everyone paused ready for the traffic to come to a stop, she hears a snippet of the conversation....
WOMAN 1: (balefully) ...so then he asked me to "drive over the roundabout".
WOMAN 2: (after doubtful pause) ...you DIDN'T actually go 'OVER' the roundabout...did you?
WOMAN 1: (indignant) well *I* didn't know! How could I know??
WOMAN 2: (stifles giggle) what happened after that?
WOMAN 1: well, he wasn't very pleased...
~ END ~
SNIPPET NUMBER 2.
~ START ~
Scene begins soon after SNIPPET NUMBER 1 as Alice pauses again at a different set of traffic lights in Kidderminster Town Centre. Two men pass by and part of their conversation becomes audible...
MAN 1: ....Then she asked me if she looked fat.
MAN 2: (pauses. then, incredulous) Tell me you didn't say "YES"??
MAN 1: (sheepish) Well...
MAN 2: Oh, Bro; Never, EVER...
MAN 1: Well I KNOW NOW!
~ END ~
And while I'm in the mood: SNIPPET NUMBER 3.
~ START ~
Scene begins as Alice boards a bus (many moons ago). Two girls are waiting in line behind her as tickets are purchased, talking about their day at school...
GIRL 1: It's so unfair! THREE detentions in one week! And I have to scrape chewing gum off of all of the desks and stuff. Gross. I think Mr. Paddock's really horrible.
GIRL 2: (doubtful tone) well, to be fair, you DID set fire to the...
GIRL 1: (interrupts angrily) that was an ACCIDENT!
GIRL 2: well, yeah, but still...
~ END ~
Thursday, 15 August 2013
Oh....BUNNY!*
Bingo is still what is classed as "under partial veterinary supervision". The site of the operation IS healing, but very, very slowly. The stitches had pulled themselves open - not ripped, they assured us - and were now useless; in fact they had started to become infected (antibiotics again: yay!), so they had to be taken out. The wound itself is "pink and healthy and showing signs of granulation", which, the vet said (over and over. At the words "opened" and "infected" and the phrase "so now the hole is a size of a 10p piece rather than a 5p piece" we both went rather grey) is good, really good. It's all just taking a long time.
And Bingo is getting incredibly fed up, obviously.
His energy levels - without his walks - are now so high that you can practically see them. The poor thing is desperate for exercise, simply desperate. And bored, so very bored. And his paw may not be hurting him but it certainly must be terribly uncomfortable, all padded and wrapped up in thick bandages...
Oh, God.
I know that everything is going in the right direction. I know the money will be given back to us (thank God for insurance). I know he will get better. But I want it to happen NOW. I want it to be finished and done with NOW.
I'm being childish, I know. That's how I feel, right now. Like a child; looking out at a very scary and unfair world and powerless to do anything to improve it. And, again, I know that is over-dramatic, but again; right now that is how I feel.
Alice xxx
* my way of saying the "F" word without actually saying it. It came about a few days ago when I needed to rant and felt like swearing, but didn't want to scar the developing young mind of Squidgum. So hence, Bunny! was born.
And Bingo is getting incredibly fed up, obviously.
His energy levels - without his walks - are now so high that you can practically see them. The poor thing is desperate for exercise, simply desperate. And bored, so very bored. And his paw may not be hurting him but it certainly must be terribly uncomfortable, all padded and wrapped up in thick bandages...
Oh, God.
I know that everything is going in the right direction. I know the money will be given back to us (thank God for insurance). I know he will get better. But I want it to happen NOW. I want it to be finished and done with NOW.
I'm being childish, I know. That's how I feel, right now. Like a child; looking out at a very scary and unfair world and powerless to do anything to improve it. And, again, I know that is over-dramatic, but again; right now that is how I feel.
Alice xxx
* my way of saying the "F" word without actually saying it. It came about a few days ago when I needed to rant and felt like swearing, but didn't want to scar the developing young mind of Squidgum. So hence, Bunny! was born.
Tuesday, 13 August 2013
Gawd ALMIGHTY!
Well! What a to-do!
I got to work this morning to be confronted by both Bitch and Colleague; Bitch looking grim and Colleague looking anxious. Wondering what was going to happen, my footsteps slowed to near on a stop, but that didn't help, as they merely made their own way towards me.
Steeling myself, I smiled brightly and waited for the storm. Something that I had done, hadn't done, hadn't done properly...?? ...Nope! It was none of those; in fact, it was nothing that could conceivably be considered my fault.
What had actually happened was that Colleague's wages had been wrong (again) and that having finally gotten through to a person that had the power to delve into the system and attempt find out what had happened yesterday afternoon, she was informed that the amount owed to her HAD been paid, but Into MY account. MY as in 'me'; Alice Collison (in case that hadn't sunk in).
Stunned, I opened my mouth and closed it (do a very good fish impression, me) and looked from Bitch to Colleague and back again. There had to be some kind of mistake...but no, apparently, there wasn't. I was flabbergasted. Getting the amount of hours wrong, sure - not acceptable, but at least understandable - but surely they couldn't have actually paid someone else's wages into a completely different bank account, even if they did work at the same place. Our 'contract number' may be the same, but the 'payroll' numbers - the one the system supposedly uses to calculate hours and wages and whatnot - are COMPLETELY different from each other, and although our first names begin with the same letter, our surnames are...=counts=...four letters apart from each other. And it wasn't a case of adding the hours onto the wrong wage slip accidentally, either, as when I received my slip it showed that MY wages had been (miraculously) correct, but a full separate payment; money that should have been paid to Colleague.
There was no real explanation as to how this had happened; they had no idea. It "shouldn't have" happened; all that could be put forth as a reason was (yet ANOTHER) "computer glitch". A very BIG "computer glitch".
Anyway, after a few more fish impressions from me (I really AM very good), Colleague explained that the woman she had spoken to (henceforth known as Pleasant But Generally Useless Arse, or PBGUA for short) had said that going from where they were now - with Colleagues money currently sitting in my bank and not hers, that was - there were only two options. Option one was for ME to pay HER the money directly, either by cash or cheque. Option two was that the company start the proceedings for the money to be deducted from MY account and then paid into hers afterwards. PBGUA did admit, when pushed, however, that the second option would probably take a lot longer than the first; by about FOUR WEEKS.
=SIGH. HEAD-DESK. SIGH=
Colleague had "gone mental" (her words) over the phone at that point; and terribly justified she had been, too. She had bills to pay and food to buy for her and her children (she's a widow, managing alone) and thanks to the company messing up her wages and underpaying her over and over again fortnight in and fortnight out since she started work for them a year ago, there was NO MONEY in her account, an account that had direct debit payments pending RIGHT NOW.
As she told me all of this, I could see that she was close to tears; a woman at the end of her tether, and rightly so. I assured her that I would check my account - I was due to go to the bank and get cash out today to pay a couple of bills anyway - to see if the money was there (which, knowing the company we were dealing with, was a 50/50 chance) and then contact her.
So off to the bank I trotted after my shift. Sure enough, there was an extra payment of £143.45. I texted Colleague: would she like me to write her a cheque? Forty minutes later the phone rang: Colleague. She was really really really sorry, but if I wrote her a cheque it would take at least seven business days to clear and she needed the money NOW; please please please could I get it out in cash? She needed to pay it in by 11:30-am to cover the direct debit payments.
Now, ordinarily this wouldn't have been a problem; after all the money was there and it wasn't an amount that I'd banked on (no pun intended), but the thing was; I had already removed the daily limit in cash with my card for the bills (which had already been paid, by now). Again, not a problem ordinarily because I could write myself a cheque and get the money over the counter, but; I hadn't got my cheque-book with me, and there wasn't time to go home and get it, then go back to the bank and queue up, then get the money to Colleague so that she could then get it to HER bank and cash it all in, before 11:30-am. I told her this and she started to panic. Did I bank over the internet at all? I didn't. Couldn't I draw more money out over the counter with my card, so long as I had identification? Her bank let her do that. I didn't think I could, but I assured the poor girl that I would try.
So back to the bank I trotted (I had been in the ironmongers at the time, looking for impossibly thin wire for The Grandmama. Long story) with Mother - who had been paying bills with me - in tow to see what could be done.
The short answer, as it turned out, was "nothing". Without my cheque-book and with my limit already reached there was no way to get any more money out (as per rules/agreements etc.) with my bank card, no matter how many forms of identification I had with me (only one, as it happened). Crap, crap, crappity CRAP!
At my wits end, I stood there staring with helpless pleading at the un-moved bank clerk (you know, as a mature adult does) doing my fish impression (yes, again), trying to think. All seemed hopeless. I was lost... And then out of the blue; Mother (who had remembered HER cheque-book) stepped in and came to the rescue! Hooray Hurrah! A cheque was written - twice, actually: she made a mistake writing the first one. I thought she was going to start screaming there and then - and cashed to the sum of £143.45 and placed carefully into an envelope and we exited the bank at warp speed. There was still time, just, to meet the deadline...
Fifteen minutes later, Colleague had her money and gratefully signed the receipt we had written out (in case company tries to deduct the money from me anyway) and mother and I headed home a full hour later than we had intended to. Whew!
So! Now I am waiting to be able to get in touch with PBGUA to inform her that the money has been paid (to try and waylay the sending of any snotty letters in my direction), I am mightily pissed off with the company yet again (as is everybody else), an hour of my life has been wasted due to someone else's (gross) mistake and I owe mother £143.45.
Oh, and get this: the money paid to me instead of Colleague wasn't actually the correct amount. She is still owed another £100 after this.
=SIGH. HEAD-DESK. SIGH=
Alice xxx
I got to work this morning to be confronted by both Bitch and Colleague; Bitch looking grim and Colleague looking anxious. Wondering what was going to happen, my footsteps slowed to near on a stop, but that didn't help, as they merely made their own way towards me.
Steeling myself, I smiled brightly and waited for the storm. Something that I had done, hadn't done, hadn't done properly...?? ...Nope! It was none of those; in fact, it was nothing that could conceivably be considered my fault.
What had actually happened was that Colleague's wages had been wrong (again) and that having finally gotten through to a person that had the power to delve into the system and attempt find out what had happened yesterday afternoon, she was informed that the amount owed to her HAD been paid, but Into MY account. MY as in 'me'; Alice Collison (in case that hadn't sunk in).
Stunned, I opened my mouth and closed it (do a very good fish impression, me) and looked from Bitch to Colleague and back again. There had to be some kind of mistake...but no, apparently, there wasn't. I was flabbergasted. Getting the amount of hours wrong, sure - not acceptable, but at least understandable - but surely they couldn't have actually paid someone else's wages into a completely different bank account, even if they did work at the same place. Our 'contract number' may be the same, but the 'payroll' numbers - the one the system supposedly uses to calculate hours and wages and whatnot - are COMPLETELY different from each other, and although our first names begin with the same letter, our surnames are...=counts=...four letters apart from each other. And it wasn't a case of adding the hours onto the wrong wage slip accidentally, either, as when I received my slip it showed that MY wages had been (miraculously) correct, but a full separate payment; money that should have been paid to Colleague.
There was no real explanation as to how this had happened; they had no idea. It "shouldn't have" happened; all that could be put forth as a reason was (yet ANOTHER) "computer glitch". A very BIG "computer glitch".
Anyway, after a few more fish impressions from me (I really AM very good), Colleague explained that the woman she had spoken to (henceforth known as Pleasant But Generally Useless Arse, or PBGUA for short) had said that going from where they were now - with Colleagues money currently sitting in my bank and not hers, that was - there were only two options. Option one was for ME to pay HER the money directly, either by cash or cheque. Option two was that the company start the proceedings for the money to be deducted from MY account and then paid into hers afterwards. PBGUA did admit, when pushed, however, that the second option would probably take a lot longer than the first; by about FOUR WEEKS.
=SIGH. HEAD-DESK. SIGH=
Colleague had "gone mental" (her words) over the phone at that point; and terribly justified she had been, too. She had bills to pay and food to buy for her and her children (she's a widow, managing alone) and thanks to the company messing up her wages and underpaying her over and over again fortnight in and fortnight out since she started work for them a year ago, there was NO MONEY in her account, an account that had direct debit payments pending RIGHT NOW.
As she told me all of this, I could see that she was close to tears; a woman at the end of her tether, and rightly so. I assured her that I would check my account - I was due to go to the bank and get cash out today to pay a couple of bills anyway - to see if the money was there (which, knowing the company we were dealing with, was a 50/50 chance) and then contact her.
So off to the bank I trotted after my shift. Sure enough, there was an extra payment of £143.45. I texted Colleague: would she like me to write her a cheque? Forty minutes later the phone rang: Colleague. She was really really really sorry, but if I wrote her a cheque it would take at least seven business days to clear and she needed the money NOW; please please please could I get it out in cash? She needed to pay it in by 11:30-am to cover the direct debit payments.
Now, ordinarily this wouldn't have been a problem; after all the money was there and it wasn't an amount that I'd banked on (no pun intended), but the thing was; I had already removed the daily limit in cash with my card for the bills (which had already been paid, by now). Again, not a problem ordinarily because I could write myself a cheque and get the money over the counter, but; I hadn't got my cheque-book with me, and there wasn't time to go home and get it, then go back to the bank and queue up, then get the money to Colleague so that she could then get it to HER bank and cash it all in, before 11:30-am. I told her this and she started to panic. Did I bank over the internet at all? I didn't. Couldn't I draw more money out over the counter with my card, so long as I had identification? Her bank let her do that. I didn't think I could, but I assured the poor girl that I would try.
So back to the bank I trotted (I had been in the ironmongers at the time, looking for impossibly thin wire for The Grandmama. Long story) with Mother - who had been paying bills with me - in tow to see what could be done.
The short answer, as it turned out, was "nothing". Without my cheque-book and with my limit already reached there was no way to get any more money out (as per rules/agreements etc.) with my bank card, no matter how many forms of identification I had with me (only one, as it happened). Crap, crap, crappity CRAP!
At my wits end, I stood there staring with helpless pleading at the un-moved bank clerk (you know, as a mature adult does) doing my fish impression (yes, again), trying to think. All seemed hopeless. I was lost... And then out of the blue; Mother (who had remembered HER cheque-book) stepped in and came to the rescue! Hooray Hurrah! A cheque was written - twice, actually: she made a mistake writing the first one. I thought she was going to start screaming there and then - and cashed to the sum of £143.45 and placed carefully into an envelope and we exited the bank at warp speed. There was still time, just, to meet the deadline...
Fifteen minutes later, Colleague had her money and gratefully signed the receipt we had written out (in case company tries to deduct the money from me anyway) and mother and I headed home a full hour later than we had intended to. Whew!
So! Now I am waiting to be able to get in touch with PBGUA to inform her that the money has been paid (to try and waylay the sending of any snotty letters in my direction), I am mightily pissed off with the company yet again (as is everybody else), an hour of my life has been wasted due to someone else's (gross) mistake and I owe mother £143.45.
Oh, and get this: the money paid to me instead of Colleague wasn't actually the correct amount. She is still owed another £100 after this.
=SIGH. HEAD-DESK. SIGH=
Alice xxx
Monday, 12 August 2013
Ow Ow Ow!
One week I had off; one measly week.
Just seven days away from work. You wouldn't have thought so, though, to see me today. It was as if my body had never cleaned before, let alone cleaned professionally. By the time 9-am rolled around, not only was I so far behind that I couldn't catch up - there may well be complaints tomorrow, and well deserved they will be if there are - but every last inch of me was throbbing as though I had gone through a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson.
=sighs=
I know it will get easier, but right now: OW OW OW!
Alice xxx
Just seven days away from work. You wouldn't have thought so, though, to see me today. It was as if my body had never cleaned before, let alone cleaned professionally. By the time 9-am rolled around, not only was I so far behind that I couldn't catch up - there may well be complaints tomorrow, and well deserved they will be if there are - but every last inch of me was throbbing as though I had gone through a couple of rounds with Mike Tyson.
=sighs=
I know it will get easier, but right now: OW OW OW!
Alice xxx
Sunday, 11 August 2013
Update (On The Update Of The Update? Or On The Update Of The Update Of The Update...? I've lost track):
Bingo is STILL being fussy. He WILL eat his regular food (treat-type stuff, of course, goes down with with no hesitation whatsoever), but only once per day as apposed to twice, and only if I stand a few feet away from him blocking his path, with my arms folded or hands on hips in a Xena-esque pose. THEN he'll eat. Eventually.
I know I've said this already (probably more than once), but I can't wait for all this to be over, I really can't.
...As an aside, though: I bet I'd look great dressed as Xena, don't you?
=grins=
Alice xxx
I know I've said this already (probably more than once), but I can't wait for all this to be over, I really can't.
...As an aside, though: I bet I'd look great dressed as Xena, don't you?
=grins=
Alice xxx
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