Stuff and that.

Stuff. And yeah. That

Category: 2018

Far out, brussels sprout

**Just a little something I prepared earlier…

I have had a week of it this week. Nothing major that I can point my finger and go “A-HA. THIS is why my week is a bit shit.” Nope, it was a whole lot of teensy tiny little irritations that all managed to pile up and up until I was looking for a needle of hope in a haystack of irritation. Yeah, I’m a bit woe is fucking me and engaging in quite a lot of bridge building. But the icing on the cake was yesterday.

Lunch.

I got in to work really late, after a couple of appointments; then I had a meeting to go to that started not long after I arrived. I had an hour to grab a bite, eat it and prep for the next meeting, so I went downstairs to the cafe in the building I work in to get something to eat. Now, you’d think that a cafe with 800 captive punters on site, and a couple more hundred across the road would not only be extremely experienced at making all the things, but would also be quick and efficient.  All I wanted was a cheese and tomato toastie and an iced coffee, so down I went.

  • Girlie: Hello. Can I help you?
  • Me: Yes, I would like a skinny iced coffee with ice-cream but no cream, and a cheese and tomato toasted sandwich. Here is my fancy take away cup for you to make the iced coffee in.
  • Girlie: Looks blank. So, that was a skinny latte?
  • Me: Um. Skinny iced coffee.
  • Girlie: Oh. Ok then.
  • Me: and a cheese and tomato toasted sandwich
  • Girlie: Oh. Ok then. That will be $4.50
  • Me: Um. Iced coffee and a toastie?
  • Girlie: Oh. Ok then. $11

I sat down to wait while the Girlie made my lunch. Please note that at this point I am somewhat peckish and really quite under caffeinated. And I am on a very tight time limit.

After a couple of minutes…

  • Girlie: Um. Excuse me. What salads did you want on your sandwich?
  • Me: Um. Just a toasted cheese and tomato sandwich on white?
  • Girlie: Oh. Ok then.

At this point, I am ever so slightly concerned about my lunch. But hey, she must have mixed me up with someone else. Cheese and tomato toastie, iced coffee, all good.

Then the Coffee Girlie appears with my cup in hand…

  • Coffee Girlie: Iced chocolate for Maudy?

Ummmm….

Explained to the poor Coffee Girlie that I actually ordered iced coffee and she looked horrified and ran off to the kitchen with my cup in hand. Another bloke came out and helped her make me a coffee, then handed it over – I asked about my sandwich, and suggested that I was potentially a little bit concerned about what I was going to be eating. He went and investigated.

And there was investigation of a sandwich bag and investigation of a docket and a discussion with another chap and then there was some making of another sandwich – one that didn’t have ham in it. Many apologies and a voucher for a free coffee later… I made it upstairs with some food. And some trepidation.

Fortuitously, it was delicious.

 

 

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Existentialism for the modern woman.

I am in the throes of an existential wardrobe crisis.  How on earth can my life be expected to have meaning if I can’t even manage to dress myself in the morning without the putting on and taking off of eleventy bazillion individual items of clothing on a daily basis? Apparently, this is not the first time I have fallen prey to this level of ennui – one of my friends reminded me of this when I was bemoaning my lack of enthusiasm in the wardrobe department. In this instance, at least, I have not been unable to go to work because I have nothing to wear.

It’s come close.

I believe there may be a couple of reasons for this (at least five, to be honest. Maybe as many as eight). The main one being that I am currently a bit fat. Not yugely fat – just that point of fatness where I either need to slam on 10kg so I can go up a size or drop 5kg (or 8kg) and fit in all my clothes. While this may seem to be a no brainer, the existential nature of my crisis means that this summer, Pimms became my Official Summer Beverage of Choice. It is now autumn. And yes, Pimms has now become my Official Autumn Beverage of choice. I am not sure what will happen come winter. Actually, I know damn well what will happen come winter. Who am I even kidding? You can drink warm Pimms. Fuck. I am doomed.

As well, there has been chocolate. Quite a lot of chocolate. And even worse, quite a lot of the chocolate I know I don’t actually like. Oops. One may have to reconsider the consumption of my bodyweight in crappy chocolate on a weekly basis.  Adding to the existential nature of my crisis is, well, I have been a tiny bit overwrought lately. And self-medicating with alcohol and chocolate and ice-cream.  As one does.  The overwroughtness is slightly out of my control – well, there was the conga line of shite that piled up to make 2017 from which I am yet to fully recover (memo to self – two weeks leave in January would have been a better idea); plus there have been a few other bits and bobs that are making my day to day life best described as Interesting.  I did a check list thingy to see if I was heading towards burn-out. Just moderately stressed. Okay. Thanks. Useful to know.  Still struggling to get dressed in the morning.

The other thing that is making getting dressed in the morning a fucking godawful chore is well, you know how I KonMari’d the piss out of my clothes a couple of years ago? Well. What happened then was I got rid of everything I hated and only kept stuff I actually liked. That was all well and good, but I ended up ditching probably ten* or so shirts that I did wear despite not liking them all that much. End result was I didn’t have quite enough clothes and couldn’t find anything I really liked to replace the stuff I got rid of. So, I bought a heap of el cheapo fast fashion cotton tee shirts. This would avoid the dreaded public nudity situation and tide me over until I (hopefully) found some more stuff I liked.

I also really struggle with fast fashion from an ethical perspective (don’t get me started on fast homewares as well. Is so cheap, I can afford to replace all the doodads in the lounge room because that {insert latest colour} is soooo cute. And next thing you know, the local oppy is full of gold pineapples). The t-shirts I bought were seriously dirt cheap. Buy ten t-shirts, and get enough change from $100 to buy another t-shirt, a gold pineapple and a cup of coffee. They’re generally poorly made, so once I’m done with them they’re barely good enough for rags. It’s no wonder I’m fucking existential about my damn wardrobe.

Anyway, two years down the track, and the collection of el cheapo t-shirts are well. Trifle shabby really. I just culled said ten t-shirts, all with weird-arse stains and/or holes in them and with freaky out of shape necklines; and I’m back to where I started from two years ago, sobbing into my wardrobe with nothing to wear.

I did have a little bit of an epiphany when I was culling the trashy t-shirts – I have a couple of half way decent ones that I spent more than $10 on. They’re still in the shape they started in, they’ve kept their colour and they fit. So I procured a couple (ok, four) more non trashy t-shirts; and I did do a slightly wild slightly hormonal shop where I attempted to acquire another pair of shorts I can wear to work (epic fail. My legs are very long. The shorts? Not so much.) Also discovered things eat your lovely woollens when you don’t get them dry cleaned before you pop them away for summer.  This is not pleasing, and will necessitate some mending. At least they’re both dark colours so my dodgy stitchery will be less obvious.

So, here I am at the end of autumn, still mildly stressed out of my brain, still struggling to get dressed in the morning, and still eating too much damn chocolate. Although, I have cut back on the drinking and am a trifle terrified of the idea of heating up my Pimms. Probably should do something about the bits that are within my control…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*I live in Victoria. It is not unreasonable to have two weeks’ each of summer tops, winter tops and trans-seasonal tops because one day it’s 40 and the next day it’s not. Plus, the ironing fairy only comes fortnightly.

 

 

 

Welcome back.

Oh hello there, fancy seeing you here, hiding down the back of the couch with all the dust bunnies, the half chewed lollies, one broken pen, a marble, and oooh, shiny at least $5 in coins. Nice. It’s dark and cosy down here…

Where was I? Oh, that’s right. Blogging. I’ve had a hiatus of sorts. The kind of hiatus one has when all the wheels fall off *and* you break an axle. Now, way back in February 2017, I though 2016 wasn’t as shit as I thought it was, and I was sort of complaining a bit about nothing much. It’s now (almost) February 2018 (might even be by the time I post this. I’m digressing. Again.) and I look back on 2017 and yes. Well.

2017 was indeed a bit fucked up. Conga-line of clusterfucks from about Easter onward. Nice one, 2017. Just after Easter, I was blessed with a virus. Not a bad virus so to speak, I just lost 20 IQ points and my brain got filled with custard for a couple of weeks. Then, not long after my last post, I hurt my back. Now, hurting my back is something I do moderately regularly – apparently I have a slightly irritable disc and it ranges from a teensy bit testy to really fucking cross. It objects to the most trivial of motions – generally a slight bend and twist, usually involving picking up a featherweight item at the periphery of my reach. This time was no different. I was unpacking the dishwasher. Back went “oi, you there”. I went “o fuck off, mate. Shizz to do”. It went “alright then. Hold my fucking beer.” My back decided to bypass really fucking cross and venture into absolutely apoplectic territory, and it was welcome to physios and copious muscle relaxants and pain killers. Noice one, mate.

Not satisfied with physically torturing me, I decided a nice dose of man-flu was on the cards. Proper temperature and everything (39C or something. I had the delirious). I was home from work for three whole days. Crikey. I have *never* been that sick before. The kids decided to get in on the action and between them tag teamed the gastro (invincible mother-guts meant I missed that one – although, working from home… in the middle of a telephone hook up and I’m all “erm. Can you call me back in 20 minutes” while Mayhem chucked his guts up. That kid threw up more times in one day than in his entire life.) Then, because gastro wasn’t enough – let’s have some boy-flu. In Mayhem’s defence, I think he had actual flu. He was a sick bubby for a few days. Didn’t even ask for his ipad til day five.

So, you’d be thinking that was enough of the illnesses, right? Well. I would have thought so. But I didn’t really get over the Man-Flu… I just had epic apathy that got worse and worse until I was really struggling to do more than go through the motions at work every day and collapse on the couch at night. Of course, I consulted Dr Google to see whether it was the Ladypause (the shop did appear to be shut) or a depression (I really did not give a fuck about anything. Except that I did give a fuck that I didn’t give a fuck) and was I going to take to my bed with the vapours for the next few years? Except I’d need to change the sheets, and that took effort and yeah… you got it.

I finally hit up a trained medical professional  and whadderyou know. My thyroid, which had a history of taking little naps, decided to shit the tin completely. Now, it’s stopped functioning optimally before, but I’ve never had symptoms. Here are some symptoms (I stole them from here)

  • depression, feeling withdrawn and a lack of motivation
  • inability to concentrate
  • body fatigue, muscle aches and low energy levels
  • needing more sleep
  • intolerance to cold temperatures
  • unexplained weight gain
  • dry skin and /or pale skin and facial bloating
  • hair loss or thinning out
  • constipation
  • heavy, irregular or prolonged menstrual periods
  • goitre (enlarged thyroid gland that is visible)
  • slower heart rate.

Had a couple of them. Or ten. My heart rate is pretty slow anyway. I’m naturally slightly warmer than dead. Little white pills entered my life and things have improved dramatically. I’m still not what I was, though. Albeit fairly close. And the fucking shop had a grand reopening sale. That was a tale in and of itself. I’m away from home, presenting at a conference, and it was like the gates of hell had opened. Suffice to say that while I am mildly disappointed the shop is not in fact shut, I’m glad we’ve returned to business as usual.

Now, you’d think that would be enough for one year. But no, 2017 wasn’t quite finished with me.

I had a fall.

Yes, I am an old person. I have Falls now.

I tell people I fell about a metre. This is not a lie. It is indeed about a metre from my arse to the ground. Which is also indeed about how far I fell. I just left out the bit about slipping on some wet leaves and landing on my arse, spraining my ankle, skinning my knee, and tearing a tendon *and* a ligament in my wrist.

Fuck. Me. Fucking. Swinging.

Yeah, could have been worse. I could have broken my wrist and ankle. Normal people break their bones when they fall. I have sort of hypermobile joints, so I sort of suddenly fold in peculiar directions and gravity takes it’s toll. I’m getting better – eight weeks down the track, the skinned knee has finally healed up, the dodge ankle is fine as long as I don’t jog (pfft) or go down stairs, and my wrist is letting me know what I can’t do by letting go of things randomly. Interesting times.

Anyway, 2017 wasn’t all shite. Just health-wise, 2017 belongs in the bin. I did do some reading (about 25 books, so not much reading), I cooked a bit (poisoned the family with a few new recipes and they didn’t die.) More or less kept up with my steps, too – 4.7 million of the fuckers. We had a couple of cracking family holidays that added Stories to the family lore, which is what it’s all about. I stood up at not one but two conferences in 2017, which was actually fun. I am an ok presenter and come off super calm and composed. Which is nice, considering I am a puddle of sweat from the ankles down. I got bombarded with questions after both presentations, too. And I got to catch up with family and friends after one of them.

And I decided to do something about my stupid back, and took up pilates. This has been one of the best things I’ve actually ever done. I go more or less once a week, it’s a structured class run by physiotherapists (rather than aerobics instructors) and despite my epic Fall with all the other related injuries, back was completely fine.

Anyway. 2018 goals…

Not as shit as 2017.

And I’ll leave it at that!