When ask they ask what was it that drove me over the edge, you can tell them it was the clingfilm. I have convinced even people who are the calmest individuals on the planet would be driven to the brink of madness and back from clingfilm. This week its not the PMT, its not the constant need for shops to remind us of mother’s day, its on Sunday by the way for those of living in a cave for the last month , its not even the toliet roll that refuses to release anyother other then a postage sized stamp size of tissue, nope its the clingfilm. I think back to those days when I had to wrestle with it every morning. This morning it refused to cut. On the ‘handy’ serated edge provided. When it did cut, I had enough to cover a postage stamp. I think the people who make clingfilm also make toliet roll. I will do some research once I calm down. The loo roll is ridiculous though because you have to squeeze your hand into some sort of shape to get it up into the oh so protected loo house for want of a better word. Then this tiny bits of tissue float down towards you. The sort that would keep the Sylvanian families warm for weeks but other then that you see now use for it. Of course on the way back up from the contorted position you got yourself into to keep the Sylvanian families warm, you burst your kness off the toliet bowl. Now that’s the way to start a day. It can only get better

Yesterday I was in great humour until I was confronted with 2 things. The kid in a foul form and Eason’s paying homage to Mothers. Everywhere. One would like to think if one avoided certain areas of Eason’s such as the card and gift section, then one would be safe. But no, newsflash, mothers like to read. About things they would like to do with their daughters like skipping and jumping the hilly brush. The diaries of mothers and daughters. 10 things to do with your mother when she’s not in a urn. I made the last one up, I’m bitter, sue me! And i really hope mothers are fan of the colour pink, because the pastel assault on my eyes was something else yesterday. And look at this, just what EVERY mother wants. A fecking pink yankee candle. I know where that would end up if I gave to that to Mam were she still around.

I had to meet a guy to sell him our Tegan and Sara tickets. If we are lucky enough to get pregnant, I shall regale small and bald with stories of all the sacrifices we made so that they could come into existence. Oh yes, the child will be straight from the cradle to the therapists couch.

I am supposed to be up to my neck in work with my webservice and was so up until a few minutes when code which worked fine yesterday stopped working this morning. So it can’t be my fault. At least I hope not. I emailed off our web service provider and am waiting for a response. I’m hoping to get most of the project boxed off today and tomorrow so in the event of me not feeling well enough to come on Friday after they send a camera crew up me on Thursday,
then I won’t feel too guilty. We are on target to deliver and go live on Monday but I reckon I might jinx it if I go on too much.

The kid was out of sorts yesterday, so much so she refused to even have a bite to eat, I was paying. This was highly unusual, I think she’s PMTing and also she says her depression is acting up. Although usually its around PMT time that they feel worse so perhaps its just that. I was convinced she wasn’t going to go into her course this morning and started having flashbacks to those school days. Perhaps that was also brought on by the clingfilm, who knows. But,
and this has to be the funniest. They are studying customer care. Now if you were to ask what jobs do I reckon the kid should avoid like the plague purely based on her personality, I would say a kindergarten teacher and someone in customer care. I wait to be proven wrong. She’s just after txting me:

U blow dogs for pennies.

Charming as ever. I have no idea what that means, nor do I want to. Teenagers, a law onto themselves. On the plus side, she sounds in better form. I am trying to convince her to hang with me on Sunday evening. She said she’d check her diary. Is this what it comes to? Hoping your kid has nothing better to do of a Sunday then hang with you? I’m pathetic!

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 26th, 2008 at 11:03 am You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.