Where do I start? I didn't commit matricide for Mother's Day, so that's something.
Okay, Friday afternoon. Realised I'd forgotten to get a card for Mother's Day. Some sort of mental block, obviously. Ducked down to my fave newsagent but they were all saccharine Hallmark crap and the more I read about "giving me a lifetime of love" the more my blood boiled. Where were the 'take the chocolates and leave me be for a few hours you old witch' cards? Decided I needed to find unsentimental Australian cards. Desperate, I wandered back up to the newsagency at the station was grabbed by the proprietress who needed to dash off to the loo something urgent, so I ended up minding the store. Me. I found a blank card and I scored a chocolate for my efforts. J At least somebody thinks I'm responsible and trustworthy in a pinch.
Saturday was spent quietly. They all went out but so did my muse so I was engaged mostly in cleaning, cataloguing, chucking out and indexing. That sounds terribly efficient but basically I was just ripping apart old magazines while going through my unlabelled tapes.
Sunday started off so well. The chocolates and teddy bear loofa went down well with the Aged Parent and I was enjoying a cup of tea in what remained of my garden, as it was looking all green and happy. I was just sitting and watching the magpies play silly games. It was nice. Some of my surviving plants were about to flower. Noon rolled around and I reluctantly decamped to EvilPC to fix up those picture galleries and fix up/update the Ewan page because I'm sick of it being untidy and copping emails pointing out the lack of professionalism. I pop out two hours later and find my pots rolling about on the lawn and several plants torn out by the roots, left to die. I was not a happy girly. Much classical wailing, then the stoic repotting and shuffling of more pots to their designated dark dank corner to die. Then, then, the sewerage systems backs up, Mr Hanky popping up to say hello in the laundry and everything. If I believed in poltergeists I'd think the unmarried daughter of the house was somewhat peeved. Ah, if only I used my crush on Lex for niceness instead of evil...what am I saying?
So the pipes have to be dug up. Guess where? Starting under my garden and going across the lawn and under the dank corner where my garden had been exiled to. I can't win. Darkness falls early and I abandon the backyard to try and finish working on the Ewan page. This takes hours but I get 90% of it done. I feel like slapping the people who whine about me not giving it due care. What I went through while trying to update the pages. I'm cold, tired, cut and bruised and covered in drying mud and shit.
Monday. Decided to stay home to supervise plumber and Her re what's left of my garden, wail over previously about to bloom plants now looking like day old lettuce and try to finish off Ewan page. I get the scanning re-done but do not get the opportunity to upload it. The Plumber vless him, and I swear I've seen him around before, was my age or younger, phoned to give us a 30 min heads up, came and went in just over and hour and didn't treat me like a stupid woman and didn't need to dig up anymore of my garden. Bless him. Spent the rest of the day trying to finish a scanning job left over since Xmas. Got that 75% done. Discovered cockroaches pouring out of every orifice in the bathroom, no doubt upset about the 60 feet of electric eel shoved up their natural habitat. If it isn't one episode of the X Files it's another. Guess I'm miffed the plumber showed up during Clyde Bruckman's Repose. I mean, the first time I've been home and it hasn't been the one about the headless cancer eating guy. Sigh.
Stumped up to bed, fell asleep freezing, woke up boiling, watched trashy tv - they dared to take the name of Lex in vain on Buffy - and then could not get to sleep. At all.
Today. No sleep. It supposed to be like being very drunk and I believe them. Somehow I'm supposed tore-write my report. Using non existent documentation. Joy. Ah, Nirvana on the radio. Oh yes, crank that puppy up loud and feel the fester. Er, not that I was being kept up all night by cramps. It's not like I'm pmessy or anything. Not much. K Fuck, gimme chocolate, stat!
It's not just pms that's got me down. I sense the Dreaded Lurgy has a hold on me, and my muse has left the building. Weirdly, some of the comments on my M7 fic, people telling me how to write it, have made me unable to write it. I was doing so well in a vacuum. Why I posted part 4 I'll never know. Yes I do, I was jealous over all of Sin's feedback and I wanted something nice. I got nice but I also got 'you should do this' and now I just can't write it my way and the magic has gone. Bugger. I did get the most lovely letter from a fan of my Sharpe stories. Apparently I even caused Earl Grey to end up in the sinuses. I always love it when I cause a reaction. I duly watched The Duellists, but no arrow of inspiration. Maybe it will bubble up, like our faulty sewerage pipes. And Ezra and Buck, come back, sweeties, all is forgiven. Please.