2nd October
Ever feel like your treading water, waiting for something to happen? I think I am. I have been skiiving off work but don't tell my boss. I sit there at my desk, surfing the net reading news, looking for anything that catches my eye. I spend hours listening to music and writing and thinking about pretty much nothing. I watch as emails arrive in my inbox, check the clock at the bottom right hand of the screen, hell I watch as extra work mounts up and I do nothing about any of it. I sit there and wait until something becomes urgent before I deal with it. I don't think it's a lack of motivation I think its apathy. My job still gets done, but I don't spend a whole day doing it. So I figure either my job is too simple or I am doing something wrong. I just don't care enough to do anything about it all.
Today the builder came to get sizes and stuff for how much work needs doing to repair the flood damage. In true builder style he was over an hour late. To be fair he was a really nice guy, late thirties and interestingly enough a guy who had moved from Essex to here like us. He was here for about an hour so that was again another hour I didn't have to fill with day dreams and clock watching. Turns out that although the loss adjuster told me we would get the whole kitchen replaced he said he was only able to quote to replace the bottom cupboards (not even their doors) and not the work tops. On the other hand he did seem to want to replaster the utility room which wasn't actually damaged by the flood. So not quite sure what's going on there.
Just spoke to the loss adjuster (loving the scouse accent-I so have issues), he said he didn't think there were many top cabinets to replace so would check the quote when it came in and let us know. I think I shall have to make a fuss as the builder said they will normally give in if you query it enough.
Still not sleeping. The nights are interminably long yet by morning I am wishing the day weren't beginning. I'm stuck in a twilight in between place where I never have full energy to carry on but am never near enough exhaustion to sleep. The pillows seem like stones and the sheets rub against me like sand paper. The heat from the dehumidifiers seems to make its way upstairs at night and no matter how wide I leave the windows open I feel stifled and clammy. There have been times when I have been in that place between sleep and consciousness and then there is a noise outside or the cat downstairs and I jolt awake full of unexplained anxiety. I feel as though I'm going crazy that maybe I'm some cartoon character moving at a different frame speed to the rest of my fictional world.
Tom surprised me earlier. This morning we were talking about the shedule for completing the redecoration upstairs while the builders complete the downstairs rooms. We agreed if we are careful we can get it all done by next Christmas; he even seemed interested in adopting then as well. I knew he wanted children but since I can't have any he has always avoided the subject or maintained indifference but if you see him with Robert and Lauren you can tell it means more than he lets on. He suggested we consider fostering first but I don't think I could let a child go after taking it on and loving it. Neither of us is concerned if we got a boy or a girl, it would just be nice to complete the family and hare what we do have with someone else.
Mostly though, I think this highlights the way my mood and perspective shifts when it comes to my relationship, calling it a melodramatic streak doesn't quite cut it. The best I can do is to tell you that I mean the best and just want to be happy, not rich or famous, just happy. Only my heart aches for something I just can't articulate; they say being sad and down about something you can't put your finger on is a sign of depression so what's this a sign of? Hopeless romanticism? Or maybe my cancer-cynicism-is now eating away at my heart.
You are my mirror, one I don't mind as much as the shiny sort. When I look at you I see my insides which are twisted and confused; outside I just look mildly pissed off, very frustrated and a lot plain. I cant shatter you for 7 years bad luck either which is fortunate (should that be lucky?) but you can be edited and deleted unlike the real me which is stuck in this format for the foreseeable future. If someone writes a program to edit humans or rewrite history/memories please let me know.
Today the builder came to get sizes and stuff for how much work needs doing to repair the flood damage. In true builder style he was over an hour late. To be fair he was a really nice guy, late thirties and interestingly enough a guy who had moved from Essex to here like us. He was here for about an hour so that was again another hour I didn't have to fill with day dreams and clock watching. Turns out that although the loss adjuster told me we would get the whole kitchen replaced he said he was only able to quote to replace the bottom cupboards (not even their doors) and not the work tops. On the other hand he did seem to want to replaster the utility room which wasn't actually damaged by the flood. So not quite sure what's going on there.
Just spoke to the loss adjuster (loving the scouse accent-I so have issues), he said he didn't think there were many top cabinets to replace so would check the quote when it came in and let us know. I think I shall have to make a fuss as the builder said they will normally give in if you query it enough.
Still not sleeping. The nights are interminably long yet by morning I am wishing the day weren't beginning. I'm stuck in a twilight in between place where I never have full energy to carry on but am never near enough exhaustion to sleep. The pillows seem like stones and the sheets rub against me like sand paper. The heat from the dehumidifiers seems to make its way upstairs at night and no matter how wide I leave the windows open I feel stifled and clammy. There have been times when I have been in that place between sleep and consciousness and then there is a noise outside or the cat downstairs and I jolt awake full of unexplained anxiety. I feel as though I'm going crazy that maybe I'm some cartoon character moving at a different frame speed to the rest of my fictional world.
Tom surprised me earlier. This morning we were talking about the shedule for completing the redecoration upstairs while the builders complete the downstairs rooms. We agreed if we are careful we can get it all done by next Christmas; he even seemed interested in adopting then as well. I knew he wanted children but since I can't have any he has always avoided the subject or maintained indifference but if you see him with Robert and Lauren you can tell it means more than he lets on. He suggested we consider fostering first but I don't think I could let a child go after taking it on and loving it. Neither of us is concerned if we got a boy or a girl, it would just be nice to complete the family and hare what we do have with someone else.
Mostly though, I think this highlights the way my mood and perspective shifts when it comes to my relationship, calling it a melodramatic streak doesn't quite cut it. The best I can do is to tell you that I mean the best and just want to be happy, not rich or famous, just happy. Only my heart aches for something I just can't articulate; they say being sad and down about something you can't put your finger on is a sign of depression so what's this a sign of? Hopeless romanticism? Or maybe my cancer-cynicism-is now eating away at my heart.
You are my mirror, one I don't mind as much as the shiny sort. When I look at you I see my insides which are twisted and confused; outside I just look mildly pissed off, very frustrated and a lot plain. I cant shatter you for 7 years bad luck either which is fortunate (should that be lucky?) but you can be edited and deleted unlike the real me which is stuck in this format for the foreseeable future. If someone writes a program to edit humans or rewrite history/memories please let me know.
posted by stunted at 9:36 AM
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