I was busting my gut for Richard to toddle off back to work on Monday because I was going to move mountains without the-love-of-my-life (?) stuck under my feet and within a metre of my vision, and if not mountains then hills or…slight rises in unchartered territory. What I’ve actually done is nothing more than stumble blindly over molehills. Yes, I know, it’s the velvety coated Mr Mole who is almost blind but…
I feel like I’ve been trapped in one of those hamster-wheel thingy’s, running like mad and merely ending up where I originally started from. But, unlike the hamster, who merely stops after his exertions and pops off for a peanut, I was stuck, spinning faster and faster. Over dramatic? Possibly.
Anything and everything that I have attempted this week has been met with problems. I spent the whole day yesterday attempting to contact the USA tax office. I probably made twelve attempts? An automated, “We cannot process your request…we cannot process your request…’ informed me that – they could not process my request! How the hell did they know that they couldn’t process my request? I never got as far as making a request!
Around 9.00pm I gave up and watched the second half of England getting their backsides whipped. Why is it that I, knowing precious little about football – other than the ball goes one way for 45 minutes, before they all strut off to stuck on an orange, return, and the ball goes the other way for 45 minutes – can sit on my sofa and see where they are so obviously going wrong? Oh! I also know that they have ‘injury’ time added on to that. That’s ‘real’ injury time (?) and ‘pretend’ injury time. Those precious minutes where a player goes down clutching a broken leg and then rises, like a phoenix from the ashes, to sprint down the pitch faster than the Derby winner to score a goal? The goals against us last night were scored in exactly the same way. England left the goal scoring area open and unprotected and Mr Whatever-his-name-is whacked in two goals. I can see that, why can’t they?
Anyway, I digressed there a bit.
It’s been a truly crap, waste of time week. The garden has been shouting at me to go and stand at stare at its splendour and the chucks have gone googled-eyed (more so than usual) straining their little necks, expecting to see me on my way up the garden to let them out. Yesterday they got so totally peed off that they started screeching like hell’s demons and made it impossible for me to continue with my call to the USA. I had to buckle and go and let them out. Actually, I needed it too. There is something about picking up warm chicken pooh that tends to refocus a person.
I put my short story collection on offer three weeks ago, or so I had thought. It never ran because I’d programmed it incorrectly. I have attempted to put The Sleeping Field on offer from Saturday 21st June – Wednesday 25th June. I say attempted because who knows? Nothing else has gone smoothly this week…or even right. However, having got myself into all sorts of dead ends, and horrendous time-wasting exercises, I do have to say that without a shadow of a doubt I have received tremendous help and advice from several friends. I would have imploded or jumped off one of those bloody mountains that I was expecting to climb, without your kind help. You know who you are (M.M, G.G.P, P.E, D.M) so thank you. Seriously.
Having experienced the kindness of these people it has once again confirmed my belief that something positive always comes from something negative. And because the chucks are screeching and demanding to come out to tear up the garden I will keep it short and go. There is no way I am attempting to contact the USA tax office today!
Take care my lovelies x
For those of you who are kind enough to support me, here is the link to ‘The Sleeping Field,’ BUT, please check that it is 99p and not list price…because I’m not yet convinced that my ‘messing everything up’ session has passed?
P.S. Welcome new followers, Baitress and Kim Clair Smith.