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I'm back but, um, I'm not since this cannot possibly count as a blog
entry: Not of great length, no substance, not amusing, enlightening or
educational, low on overall quality (hmmm, ok, maybe it is a blog entry, then)
Being quick to offer excuses, I explain myself in that I have a
squillion things to do and not enough hours in the day between coffee
and biscuit breaks to do them. I actually wake up scared of a morning.
It is also ot so much the immense workload but more the things I should
have done and haven't (oopsy). I just lack motivation and focus.
Methinks it's time for a new job, if I'm honest. Thing is, I'm a jack
of all trades and master of none. I'm not qualified in anything I have
ever done for a living. I just sort of do it and adapt myself into the
roles I take on. I've been everything in this job (except manager), as
the need arose. But putting that on paper in a way to appeal to a new
employer - oh boy. I don't even know what sorts of things to apply for.
It looks a little bleak for me. I wish I had a proper job title.
Anyway, enough of that. Anyone good at dream interpretations might want
to explain why i was dreaming I was in the dingiest, darkest, cobwebby,
creepiest cellar there was (honestly, this place gave me the
heeby-jeebies, and generally I'm heeby-jeeby-proof), trying to catch a
small blue tit in order to set it free. The creepy, dark, dingy,
cobwebby window was open and so the blue-tit found its own way out, so
then I needed to rescue a blackbird (a blackbird that was actually
white. What is that all about?) and I finally caught it, held it gently
and woke up.
and dreams in a blog entry? yes, I know. I'm sorry.
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4.1.06 10:14
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i'd be less irritable if you were less irritating
Gorgeous Landlord has been
driving me up the wall.
Fortunately for his life and limb, I do not snap or explode, I just simmer until boiled dry.
Also, I have PMT, but don't make the mistake of thinking the two are in any way related.
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5.1.06 11:30
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first night back at salsa after the christmas break and it showed.
Everyone seemed really out of practice, struggled in the lesson and
spent much of the evening embarrassedly apologising for dancing in such
a randomised, jerky, stumbling manner.
Or maybe that was just me.
Anyway, it took an hour for me to get my coordination sorted and I
never did quite work out why, instead of neat spins on the spot, timed
and poised, I was launching myself across the room like a ten pin
bowling ball, the room becoming a mere blur. I was downright dangerous,
good job I wasn't wearing heels. All this accompanied by my usual grace
and elegance (ahem) oh yes, I was a real treat for the guys to
dance with.
This might explain why by 10.30 I was ready to go home.
At the doorstep I realised I had left my keys on the kitchen table and Gorgeous Landlord had gone to bed.
Fortunately he had seen them and left the door on the latch.
I went to bed, froze my way through the night (my room is the coldest
room in the house) and I seriously considered sneaking into Landlord's
bed and snuggling up but then figured that in all probability these ice
blocks below my ankles would probably defrost at some point (wrong!)
and I'm not that heartless (just heatless) as to wake him up by such anti-social measures (I have other ways)
I think I may have actually been asleep somewhere between 5am and 5.05
but I can't be sure, it may have been less than that. All I know is I
look like someone who has had about 8 hours less sleep than they need
and I seem to have brain that's a bit on the blink. "yes, I hear what
you're saying, but can you make it fewer sylbalilables? I'm having
trouble with long words like 'filing' and 'signature' and please don't
expect me to remember whether I put sugar in my coffee. I'm just amazed
I remembered to pour it into a mug instead of onto my feet."
so if you'll excuse me, I'll just curl up over here an....zzzzzzzzzzzzzz
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6.1.06 15:19
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