Last night I had a fire. It was a small fire. I didn’t bother asking G the Human dog to take his washing in. More confidential waste. Fire. It’s nice is fire. Cleansing. Good way to dispose of things……..
Yesterday Mrs Gnomepants picked up her new car from the garage. It is red. I suggested putting black spots on the paint work so she would look like a ladybird. I fear she took me seriously.
Yesterday I went geocaching. Well, I tried to. I got to the cache only to find it was more coordinates but in a format I can’t use on my current GPS devices. So I had to go home.
Yesterday I had fish and chips for tea.
Mrs Gnomepants’ music is doing my head in. She has about 20 songs which she plays over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over again. I’m tired of hearing about someone “Shaking ma titties”.
I feel slightly dispossessed.
So I’m feeling a bit poo today. My head hurts in a weird way (like round the sides in front of my ears, not like on the forehead), I’ve been weeweeing like one of them tacky little white cherub water fountains you see in garden centres and I feel run down and poo. Not very pleasant.
Continue reading Bath – A wife free post
Mrs Gnomepants – What about this one?
stegzy – yes thats nice
Mrs Gnomepants – You don’t think it’s too square?
stegzy – It’s a tile. It’s meant to be square
Mrs Gnomepants – – You know what I mean
stegzy – Er…
Mrs Gnomepants – But what about this one?
*holds up identical tile*
stegzy – It’s the same tile
Mrs Gnomepants – It isn’t. This one is more fussy
stegzy – How the fuck can a tile be more fussy? Oh I don’t want to go on the wall next to that tile I want to go next to the other tile?
Mrs Gnomepants – Don’t be rude you know what I mean
Twenty tiles and 5 Tile show rooms later
Mrs Gnomepants – What about this tile?
stegzy – It’s the same as the first one you picked up
Mrs Gnomepants – No it isn’t, this one is squarer
stegzy – Arrrrrrrrrgh
I chose the wrong day to do without ciggies.
Something that has been really pissing me off of late is that I’m feeling remarkably over managed. Not only do I have work coming in from my immediate line manager Mr Bigot, but I also have stuff coming direct from Mr Beardywalker-Type and from Ms Ive-been-on-one-too-many-corporate-training-courses.
Work is shit
“What would you say to me going self employed” She asked as I drove her home last night.
I imagine the long lingering pause was a bit too long and my lip is still sore from the huge bite I gave it.
“You don’t seem pleased”
“No go for it” I said, “As long as it doesn’t interfere with my plans to go back to Uni and as long as you are aware that we might be on a reduced income for 2 years”
There then followed a bit of a bickering session. Why should I get to go to Uni? When she went to uni she managed to work in a job 27 hours a week as well as do her University work so why can’t I? Why do I insist the world revolves around me?
“You haven’t even asked doing what” she added.
She was right. I hadn’t. I’d automatically assumed that she would be doing something low paid and easy because she is on the brink of burn out. Memories of the suggestion that she gave up work to do the card stall full-time came flooding back. The card stall you might remember was a fucking disaster. I’m so glad she didn’t give up work for it.
“I’ll be doing consultancy work for 3 days a week”
OMG! Even worse! She would be working for less days a week. Not only was I getting angry I was getting jealous.
“and I’ll be on near enough the same only working as a freelance fundraiser”
Sounded like Dave (her fuckwit of a boss) is short of funds again. Dave is a cunt (Sorry I know there are some people who do not like that word. Neither do I really but honestly, there are no other suitable vulgarities I can think of to call him). I really despise him. He’s one of these people that live and breath work 24 hours a day in an effort to surpress their fucking inadequacies. You can’t even talk to him about the weather without him turning it into some fucking PR exercise for Fundamental (because they’ve had lots of Fun and have to be mental to put up with him) . Obviously he’s been spending the funds on some crackpot scheme in Bulgaria or the Cayman Islands or something and needs to make payroll cuts. This sounds like a precursor to redundancy if ever I’ve heard of one. Though I might be wrong.
“I’ve had 2 other charities enquire about me fund raising for them” hopefully not the local school asking her to go round the pub with a fucking collection box
A few other choice words were spoken but I didn’t murder her or accidentally push her down a mine shaft on purpose. Instead I apologised and admitted that I was jealous that she was being successful and that I was scared that things will conspire to stop me from going to Uni. I think she then understood why I was a bit miffed.