1. with a few notable exceptions, it takes Bingo approximately one hundreth of the time it takes me to make his toys to destroy them.
- but for those 2-10 minutes per time, boy; does he have fun!
2. if I continue trawling the internet for jobs on a daily basis, I am going to go insane.
- after another frustrating week, I've decided to settle on Moday, Wednesday and Friday for the full search, and checking for any job related e-mails the other days.
...I do end up applying for any suitable posts that pop up therein, admittedly, but those are few and far between due to the recruitment website(s) habit(s) of ignoring my saved searches and instead taking random words out of my CV and using whatever the words are as the basis of "hey; you may want to apply for this!".
...seriously. The last job alert had the sentence: "here are 10 jobs that match your search criteria, key words/phrases selected for search: 'the', 'birds'."
=SIGHS=
3. it is becoming apparent that the main reason Mother and myself have lived in the same house together such beautiful harmony for so long is because until very recently she spent 90% of her time outside of said house.
- seriously. Discounting the days that I was out and about doing various things myself, I used to have the majority of weekday afternoons to myself. I came back from work, and the house was empty, and stayed that way from that moment on until at least 3PM - 5PM (or later) if she was at a school - but now, I come home from work, and; she is there. And she stays there until 3PM before leaving for her shift at The Grandmama's (where she now works, 12 hours per week), sometimes 4PM. So between at least 1PM and 3PM there we are; both there together at the same time. In the living room, which during the afternoons, as I said; I used to have to myself, with the television playing reruns of Star Trek (which no matter how quietly she has it on, seems to pierce straight through my earphones in a way that no other television show can) while I am trying to conduct a job search and apply for jobs or concentrate on The Story or write a Blog post or just to simply BE.
...seriously (again). GAH! I love her, and she loves me, and we still enjoy the things we both enjoyed doing together just as we always have, but; GAH!
...Give me back my free afternoons, damn it!
=SIGHS (again)=
4. my fringe swept over to the right hand side of my forehead looks very nice.
- on the same token, said fringe swept over the other way - to try and conceal a small flaw just above my left eye, which thanks to The Grandpapa I am now rather conscious of - just looks weird. I have no idea why, it just does(n't work).
Alice x
Friday, 9 September 2016
Monday, 5 September 2016
Two Encounters.
ENCOUNTER 1:
Some boys - I'm not good with ages; mid/late teens at a rough guess - walking past nudged one another and sniggered as they walked past me. Sadly, that is not uncommon; it happens with depressing frequency (though in true cowardly fashion, of course only when there are several of them against the one of me), and oftentimes the sniggers are accompanied by some slur or other directed at my weight.
So, having seen them coming and noted the familiar smirks and body language, I donned my Impassive Face and inwardly braced myself for whatever might be about to be either said or yelled. But this time, rather than some version or other of "fattie!" what I got was "dyke!"
...I blinked. That was unusual. I hadn't been called that before. "LESbian", certainly - screamed from a passing car (hence the first part of the word being in capitals, as it was louder) and aimed at myself and Best Friend 2 as we walked along the pavement arm-in-arm - but never "dyke".
A split second later, I heard a sigh, and turning my head, I realized that their sniggers and scorn had - just this once - not been directed at me, but at someone else. She was very tall, and very thin, dressed in a pale shirt, dark blue leggings and big clumpy boots. Her skin was very pale, and her blond hair - what there was of it - was very, very short and combed back.
She glared after them over her shoulder, then glanced over at me and rolled her eyes.
"I'm not," she confided, testily, one woman to another; "but pricks like that make me wish I was".
Well, yes.
Quite.
ENCOUNTER 2:
Reader(s), after all this time, I didn't think it likely that I would see them again, but today I did.
Remember this lady?
http://onefatgirlandherthoughts.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/yet-another-overheard-conversation.html
Well, today, I saw her again. And this time, I spoke to her.
She was hobbling along, clinging to her long-suffering son's arm, wittering away about what she was going to make him for lunch when they got back - from the sound of it, there were a lot of choices and she was switching back and forth between them - while he walked stoically beside her with that same look of practiced patience on his face.
We reached the escalator at the same time, and as per usual, I gestured that they should get on ahead of me, given the ongoing problem my brain has with regards to getting on which can sometimes be time consuming. This caused Crisp Lady - as I have called her in my head ever since that fateful day - to beam at me.
"Why thank you, my dear", she said, solicitously
"You're welcome", I replied.
I managed to put my foot down after letting just two steps pass by, and as I left the escalator a few seconds later, I could hear Crisp Lady's voice as she carried on talking to her son in a soft yet unstoppable wave of words.
A lovely young lady that, she was saying...manners are hard to come by these days, not many have them now...it wasn't the same in her day; people had respect then...but a lovely young lady; his brother Keith would do well to find a girl like that...a person couldn't play the lad forever, he should settle down...and she looked nice; a nice girl with good hips, after all you need good hips to have children...speaking of children; when were him and Loraine going to start...they weren't getting any younger...were they trying?...they needed to be trying...what kind of underpants did he wear? Because apparently that could make a big difference...
We separated at the end of the street before I heard what, if anything, the poor boy said in response to (any of) that.
As before, I was sorry to see them go.
And worse, this time, as I was left in suspense.
...what kind of underpants DOES he wear...?
Alice x
Some boys - I'm not good with ages; mid/late teens at a rough guess - walking past nudged one another and sniggered as they walked past me. Sadly, that is not uncommon; it happens with depressing frequency (though in true cowardly fashion, of course only when there are several of them against the one of me), and oftentimes the sniggers are accompanied by some slur or other directed at my weight.
So, having seen them coming and noted the familiar smirks and body language, I donned my Impassive Face and inwardly braced myself for whatever might be about to be either said or yelled. But this time, rather than some version or other of "fattie!" what I got was "dyke!"
...I blinked. That was unusual. I hadn't been called that before. "LESbian", certainly - screamed from a passing car (hence the first part of the word being in capitals, as it was louder) and aimed at myself and Best Friend 2 as we walked along the pavement arm-in-arm - but never "dyke".
A split second later, I heard a sigh, and turning my head, I realized that their sniggers and scorn had - just this once - not been directed at me, but at someone else. She was very tall, and very thin, dressed in a pale shirt, dark blue leggings and big clumpy boots. Her skin was very pale, and her blond hair - what there was of it - was very, very short and combed back.
She glared after them over her shoulder, then glanced over at me and rolled her eyes.
"I'm not," she confided, testily, one woman to another; "but pricks like that make me wish I was".
Well, yes.
Quite.
ENCOUNTER 2:
Reader(s), after all this time, I didn't think it likely that I would see them again, but today I did.
Remember this lady?
http://onefatgirlandherthoughts.blogspot.co.uk/2015/09/yet-another-overheard-conversation.html
Well, today, I saw her again. And this time, I spoke to her.
She was hobbling along, clinging to her long-suffering son's arm, wittering away about what she was going to make him for lunch when they got back - from the sound of it, there were a lot of choices and she was switching back and forth between them - while he walked stoically beside her with that same look of practiced patience on his face.
We reached the escalator at the same time, and as per usual, I gestured that they should get on ahead of me, given the ongoing problem my brain has with regards to getting on which can sometimes be time consuming. This caused Crisp Lady - as I have called her in my head ever since that fateful day - to beam at me.
"Why thank you, my dear", she said, solicitously
"You're welcome", I replied.
I managed to put my foot down after letting just two steps pass by, and as I left the escalator a few seconds later, I could hear Crisp Lady's voice as she carried on talking to her son in a soft yet unstoppable wave of words.
A lovely young lady that, she was saying...manners are hard to come by these days, not many have them now...it wasn't the same in her day; people had respect then...but a lovely young lady; his brother Keith would do well to find a girl like that...a person couldn't play the lad forever, he should settle down...and she looked nice; a nice girl with good hips, after all you need good hips to have children...speaking of children; when were him and Loraine going to start...they weren't getting any younger...were they trying?...they needed to be trying...what kind of underpants did he wear? Because apparently that could make a big difference...
We separated at the end of the street before I heard what, if anything, the poor boy said in response to (any of) that.
As before, I was sorry to see them go.
And worse, this time, as I was left in suspense.
...what kind of underpants DOES he wear...?
Alice x
Sunday, 4 September 2016
I Think My Subconscious Is Trying To Tell Me Something...
I am sat in a room. It is a plain, nondescript sort of room with beige coloured walls and biege coloured carpets; no pictures, no posters, no windows, no (other) colour, no life.
My chair is one of those in a large circle in the middle of the otherwise empty room. My co-sitters are all women, dressed in exactly the same outfit - dark grey blouse, black trousers, black socks, black shoes - with identical features and identical eyes (brown) and identical hair (also brown) cut and styled in an identical way.
I, with my blond hair and blue eyes, red blouse and black skirt over red tights, look starkly out of place. But that's okay. After all, everybody is different.
...Well, not these girls, obviously. But other than that, everybody is different...
We sit for a few minutes before a man comes in through a door in the corner; the only thing that breaks the monotony of beige from one end of the room to another. The man is tall with black hair and olive coloured skin. He is dressed entirely in white.
He smiles at us. Taking the sole free chair in the circle, he moves it into the middle, setting himself apart. Then he introduces himself. His name is Matthew - "please, call me 'Matt', okay?" - and he is going to be conducting the group interview that we have been invited to attend that day.
To begin; he asks us all our names in turn, requesting that we state our ages as well. I am discomfited to find that I am the eldest, at 31. Everybody else is in their twenties; 26 to be exact. The voices of the other girls, like their appearance and dress, are monotone and sound exactly the same. Only the names are different.
It proceeds from there as one might expect from a group interview, with a series of allegedly informal and random questions ('just for fun!') asked to each of us in turn. Matt listens to our answers carefully, occasionally making notes on a clipboard. I am, while not fully at ease - I have always hated group interviews, despite the fact that 5 out of 6 of them have led to success (and the sixth was due to the job being not as advertised, rather than anything I did) - confident that I am making a good impression.
I generally do,
To start, I have an aura of 'niceness' that people are drawn to; my rosy, smiling face puts people looking at me at ease. This in turn is backed up by the way I naturally speak, which pegs me as educated, but not smugly so, while at the same time reassuringly polite and respectful. Then, to crown it off; my vivid and colourful imagination comes in handy, setting my answers to the seemingly-pointless-but-actually-cleverly-revealing questions apart, showing me to be a quick and independent thinker.
...Another 'fun' question, another good answer when the turn to reply reaches me that Matt smiles at approvingly as he continues to scribble on his clipboard. Inwardly, I nod to myself, pleased.
This is good.
Things are going well.
...Then, Matt turns his attention away from the group as a whole and directs it straight upon me.
"Now, Alice," he says, shifting position in his chair and crossing his legs; "a question just for you."
Another inward nod. I have seen this before. The interviewer picks a few people out of the crowd to direct a snap question to, to see how the individual will react. Due to what a friend has delightfully described as my "magnetic people puller face", I am nearly always one of those picked on, and my answer has never failed me yet.
So, I smile and nod; ready, and Matt smiles and nods back; also ready, fixing me with his unnerving and level stare before he starts speaking again.
"I was just wondering; what gives you the right to sit here amongst these fine, upstanding people, as though you had even the slightest prayer of getting this job," noting my taken-aback expression, his mouth twitches in satisfaction as he continues; "I mean, really, you seem nice and everything, and you're obviously intelligent, but honestly; it takes a certain kind of person to work as an Administrator, and you, my lovely, are most definitely not it. The other people here are, but you are not. Because the other people here - these fine, upstanding people - are not employed as a cleaner."
Cue: a large gasp from each person uttered at the same time.
The girls turn to look at me with identically shocked, horrified and disgusted expressions on their identical faces. Then, in unison, they each lift their right hand to point at me as they begin to chant, in unison, in their low, monotone voices:
"Cleaner, cleaner,! Doesn't belong, doesn't belong! Cleaner, cleaner! Doesn't belong, doesn't belong!"
...And so it goes on.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
As the chanting continues, I sigh a resigned sigh, and turn to the nearest chanter to say:
"You know, I know this is a nightmare and so it isn't real, but I really don't like this at all."
...And then, I wake up.
Alice x
My chair is one of those in a large circle in the middle of the otherwise empty room. My co-sitters are all women, dressed in exactly the same outfit - dark grey blouse, black trousers, black socks, black shoes - with identical features and identical eyes (brown) and identical hair (also brown) cut and styled in an identical way.
I, with my blond hair and blue eyes, red blouse and black skirt over red tights, look starkly out of place. But that's okay. After all, everybody is different.
...Well, not these girls, obviously. But other than that, everybody is different...
We sit for a few minutes before a man comes in through a door in the corner; the only thing that breaks the monotony of beige from one end of the room to another. The man is tall with black hair and olive coloured skin. He is dressed entirely in white.
He smiles at us. Taking the sole free chair in the circle, he moves it into the middle, setting himself apart. Then he introduces himself. His name is Matthew - "please, call me 'Matt', okay?" - and he is going to be conducting the group interview that we have been invited to attend that day.
To begin; he asks us all our names in turn, requesting that we state our ages as well. I am discomfited to find that I am the eldest, at 31. Everybody else is in their twenties; 26 to be exact. The voices of the other girls, like their appearance and dress, are monotone and sound exactly the same. Only the names are different.
It proceeds from there as one might expect from a group interview, with a series of allegedly informal and random questions ('just for fun!') asked to each of us in turn. Matt listens to our answers carefully, occasionally making notes on a clipboard. I am, while not fully at ease - I have always hated group interviews, despite the fact that 5 out of 6 of them have led to success (and the sixth was due to the job being not as advertised, rather than anything I did) - confident that I am making a good impression.
I generally do,
To start, I have an aura of 'niceness' that people are drawn to; my rosy, smiling face puts people looking at me at ease. This in turn is backed up by the way I naturally speak, which pegs me as educated, but not smugly so, while at the same time reassuringly polite and respectful. Then, to crown it off; my vivid and colourful imagination comes in handy, setting my answers to the seemingly-pointless-but-actually-cleverly-revealing questions apart, showing me to be a quick and independent thinker.
...Another 'fun' question, another good answer when the turn to reply reaches me that Matt smiles at approvingly as he continues to scribble on his clipboard. Inwardly, I nod to myself, pleased.
This is good.
Things are going well.
...Then, Matt turns his attention away from the group as a whole and directs it straight upon me.
"Now, Alice," he says, shifting position in his chair and crossing his legs; "a question just for you."
Another inward nod. I have seen this before. The interviewer picks a few people out of the crowd to direct a snap question to, to see how the individual will react. Due to what a friend has delightfully described as my "magnetic people puller face", I am nearly always one of those picked on, and my answer has never failed me yet.
So, I smile and nod; ready, and Matt smiles and nods back; also ready, fixing me with his unnerving and level stare before he starts speaking again.
"I was just wondering; what gives you the right to sit here amongst these fine, upstanding people, as though you had even the slightest prayer of getting this job," noting my taken-aback expression, his mouth twitches in satisfaction as he continues; "I mean, really, you seem nice and everything, and you're obviously intelligent, but honestly; it takes a certain kind of person to work as an Administrator, and you, my lovely, are most definitely not it. The other people here are, but you are not. Because the other people here - these fine, upstanding people - are not employed as a cleaner."
Cue: a large gasp from each person uttered at the same time.
The girls turn to look at me with identically shocked, horrified and disgusted expressions on their identical faces. Then, in unison, they each lift their right hand to point at me as they begin to chant, in unison, in their low, monotone voices:
"Cleaner, cleaner,! Doesn't belong, doesn't belong! Cleaner, cleaner! Doesn't belong, doesn't belong!"
...And so it goes on.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
As the chanting continues, I sigh a resigned sigh, and turn to the nearest chanter to say:
"You know, I know this is a nightmare and so it isn't real, but I really don't like this at all."
...And then, I wake up.
Alice x
Friday, 2 September 2016
Frust-bloody-ated:
I am - was - midway through a job hunt.
There are 12 jobs that I could be, and should be, applying for today.
But I can't.
...Why, I hear (the two of) you ask?
Because: the Jobmatch website isn't working.
Nor is Reed. Or Total Jobs. Or Jobsite. Or any of the others. I've tried them all, several times. None of them are online.
I have no idea why. Other websites seem to be running normally - including this one - but none of the sites that I need to apply for the jobs.
I can't ring, or write, or anything else; it's all done online. I don't even have a company to contact by e-mail; 99% of the posts are advertised through recruitment agencies with as few details given as possible.
So, for now, I am stuck.
How long for?
...I have no clue.
=SIGHS. STROKES DOG. WAITS FOR WEBSITES TO WORK=
Alice x
UPDATE:
Success.
After further research, the 12 jobs were whittled down to 8, and some of them are a bit unlikely, given the training and experience that are desired and/or required, but hey; 8 jobs applied for is better than none, and nothing ventured then nothing gained, right?
Right.
Today has been a productive day.
I feel pleased with how today has gone...
There are 12 jobs that I could be, and should be, applying for today.
But I can't.
...Why, I hear (the two of) you ask?
Because: the Jobmatch website isn't working.
Nor is Reed. Or Total Jobs. Or Jobsite. Or any of the others. I've tried them all, several times. None of them are online.
I have no idea why. Other websites seem to be running normally - including this one - but none of the sites that I need to apply for the jobs.
I can't ring, or write, or anything else; it's all done online. I don't even have a company to contact by e-mail; 99% of the posts are advertised through recruitment agencies with as few details given as possible.
So, for now, I am stuck.
How long for?
...I have no clue.
=SIGHS. STROKES DOG. WAITS FOR WEBSITES TO WORK=
Alice x
UPDATE:
Success.
After further research, the 12 jobs were whittled down to 8, and some of them are a bit unlikely, given the training and experience that are desired and/or required, but hey; 8 jobs applied for is better than none, and nothing ventured then nothing gained, right?
Right.
Today has been a productive day.
I feel pleased with how today has gone...
Tuesday, 30 August 2016
Adventures With Best Friend 0.5 And His (Camera) Phone:
~.START.~
Scene is set; Alice and Best Friend 0.5 are stood on a canal path on a lovely, sunny day. They are attempting to take some pictures (or rather, Best Friend 0.5 is attempting to take some pictures) of Alice with Best Friend 0.5's Fancy-Dancy-Posh-Has-A-Camera-Phone, so that she can upload them onto her new dating profile. After a few unsuccessful tries, Best Friend 0.5 sends her back to her designated starting spot to try yet again...
BEST FRIEND 0.5: okay, look at the camera. Look straight at it.
ALICE: ...(looks obediently at camera)...
BEST FRIEND 0.5: yes, good. Now, smile, and keep looking at the camera.
ALICE: ...(smiles, still looking obediently at the camera)...
BEST FRIEND 0.5: good! Now, smile, and walk forwards - slowly this time - and keep looking at the camera.
ALICE: ...(smiles, walks forward - slowly - still looking obediently at the camera)...
BEST FRIEND 0.5: great! Keep smiling, and keep walking, and keep looking at the camera.
ALICE: ...(keeps smiling and walking, then notices a nearby dog and stops looking at the camera at precisely the wrong moment)...
BEST FRIEND 0.5: ...oh, crap! Alice!
ALICE: (contrite) ...sorry...
~.END.~
...Ah well...
It didn't turn out so bad, in any case, did it?
Alice x
A Conversation Between Sisters.
~.START.~
Scene is set: Mother and Aunt 2 are finishing off some paperwork relating to The Great Aunt's funds being transferred after her arrival at Holmwood (her new home). As they do so, they are chatting and comparing verbal notes on their most recent visits with said Great Aunt. Alice happens to overhear the following point being discussed as she walks into the kitchen...
AUNT 2: (mid sentence) ...and she can be so... - ugh - you know? About other people. One second she's lonely and wants to make friends, and the next... did I tell you about the man?
MOTHER: (bemused) what 'man'?
AUNT 2: (emphatic sigh) well, there was this man, apparently, while she was sat in the lounge. He stopped by her chair as he walked past, said "good day", and asked her how she was settling in.
MOTHER: (bemused) ...so...?
AUNT 2: (rolling her eyes) exactly. 'So?', I said. Well, apparently, he shouldn't have, because it was none of his business! Honestly, that's what she said; "what business is it of his?".
MOTHER: (wearily amused) well, I could be wrong, but he may have been trying to be nice.
AUNT 2: (another sigh) exactly! I said; "Aunty, he was probably just trying to be nice. Neighbourly, you know", but she wouldn't have it. It was "none of his business how she was" and that was final. I mean, I ask you...
MOTHER: (shaking head ruefully) who was he, do we know?
AUNT 2: oh, I couldn't get to the bottom of that, you know how she is. He could have been one of the carers, or a maintenance man, or a gardener, or a doctor, or a resident, or a relative or friend of a resident, anybody. Anyway, the point is, it doesn't matter who it was -
MOTHER: (intoning, nodding in agreement) ...no, quite right, it doesn't...
AUNT 2: (continuing) - all that matters is that somebody took the time to stop and talk to her, being nice, and she reacted like that. I mean, it's ridiculous!
ALICE: (chiming in as she sits down in the living room, having listened to this exchange from the kitchen) I think she's being very silly. It isn't as though he demanded to know where her purse was, or her bank details, or something.
MOTHER: (intoning, nodding in agreement) ...well, no indeed. It wasn't as though he asked her something terribly personal...
AUNT 2: exactly! I told her; it's not as though he wanted to know her bust size, or whether she had any knickers on, or anything like that, he was just a nice man trying to be friendly: totally innocent.
MOTHER: ...(blinking at the thought of somebody being asked about their knickers)...
ALICE: ...(blinking at the thought of somebody being asked about their knickers)...
AUNT 2: (noticing the expression on her sister's face) oh, well, you know what I mean.
MOTHER: ...(still staring, eyebrows raised)...
AUNT 2: (pulling a face of her own) oh, stop looking at me like that Wen.
ALICE: (grinning) well, thank you both; this is going on the Blog.
AUNT 2: (half-heartedly annoyed) oh, sod off, the pair of you. You know what I meant...
Scene ends; with the three women breaking into giggles.
~.END.~
Thursday, 25 August 2016
Ahhhh. Holidays Are Nice.
Reader(s),
I've had a nice few days.
So far, I have:
* seen a couple of my friends.
~ I've also spoken to a couple more, one, though unfortunately I shan't be able to see them this week.
* visited various members of my family.
~ I'd have visited them anyway, being fair, it just felt even nicer than usual
* spent an afternoon giggling and being girly with Cousin 1,
~ It turns out that with a different kind of varnish, I suck at painting my nails quite a lot less. They are now a spiffy green colour. I am tres pleased with them.
~ I'm also - on the encouragement of Best Friend 0.5, Best Friend 3 and Cousin 1 - trying a different way of styling(...well...ish) my hair. It is now brushed flat rather than fluffed up, and my fringe has been sort of swept to one side. I've been assured by Mother and Cousin 1 that it looks lovely, and having seen it in a mirror, I'm cautiously optimistic, but we'll see. It's very different.
* had a go at refining my daily job search.
~ that didn't work very well. In fact, I've made it worse - I am now being bombarded with e-mails and phone calls asking me to apply for jobs I have neither searched for, specified, or in any other way indicated that I want - but no matter; I can fix it quite easily (albeit time-consumingly), and Cousin 1 suggested expanding upon an idea that Best Friend 0.5 had and I had already utilized.
* lain in bed a whole extra two hours and fifteen minutes every morning.
~ 7AM, baby! 7AM!
* watched some David Attenborough documentaries that I haven't seen for a while.
~ no reason. Just 'cause.
* cuddled the dog an awful lot.
~ no explanation needed.
* done a lot of relaxing.
~ listening to music while watching a candle flame flickering is very restful.
* sent a few e-mails to girls on the dating website, and joined a few social groups/clubs.
~ still nervous about the outing on Sunday. Still going, regardless.
And today, now that I have taken Bingo for his vet appointment, I have a whole afternoon spread out before me with nothing to do. There are things I could do, of course, and there are probably things I should do, but there is nothing that I actually have to do.
So! I am a free woman.
Yep.
=nods=
My afternoon and evening are completely free of stuff.
Yep.
=nods=
...Wow.
...This is weird...
I've had a nice few days.
So far, I have:
* seen a couple of my friends.
~ I've also spoken to a couple more, one, though unfortunately I shan't be able to see them this week.
* visited various members of my family.
~ I'd have visited them anyway, being fair, it just felt even nicer than usual
* spent an afternoon giggling and being girly with Cousin 1,
~ It turns out that with a different kind of varnish, I suck at painting my nails quite a lot less. They are now a spiffy green colour. I am tres pleased with them.
~ I'm also - on the encouragement of Best Friend 0.5, Best Friend 3 and Cousin 1 - trying a different way of styling(...well...ish) my hair. It is now brushed flat rather than fluffed up, and my fringe has been sort of swept to one side. I've been assured by Mother and Cousin 1 that it looks lovely, and having seen it in a mirror, I'm cautiously optimistic, but we'll see. It's very different.
* had a go at refining my daily job search.
~ that didn't work very well. In fact, I've made it worse - I am now being bombarded with e-mails and phone calls asking me to apply for jobs I have neither searched for, specified, or in any other way indicated that I want - but no matter; I can fix it quite easily (albeit time-consumingly), and Cousin 1 suggested expanding upon an idea that Best Friend 0.5 had and I had already utilized.
* lain in bed a whole extra two hours and fifteen minutes every morning.
~ 7AM, baby! 7AM!
* watched some David Attenborough documentaries that I haven't seen for a while.
~ no reason. Just 'cause.
* cuddled the dog an awful lot.
~ no explanation needed.
* done a lot of relaxing.
~ listening to music while watching a candle flame flickering is very restful.
* sent a few e-mails to girls on the dating website, and joined a few social groups/clubs.
~ still nervous about the outing on Sunday. Still going, regardless.
And today, now that I have taken Bingo for his vet appointment, I have a whole afternoon spread out before me with nothing to do. There are things I could do, of course, and there are probably things I should do, but there is nothing that I actually have to do.
So! I am a free woman.
Yep.
=nods=
My afternoon and evening are completely free of stuff.
Yep.
=nods=
...Wow.
...This is weird...
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