Category: Ramble Page 36 of 57

Friday. The week continues to be a struggle, and my morning shift is no exception: I only manage 248 words. I get to work, and find there are only two of us in. I decide this calls for consolation cake and I nip out to the shops. Naturally my director calls while I’m out buying cake. I call him back and we decide to defer a big upgrade we’ve been planning for next week, it’s at once frustrating, because we’ve been planning it for a while, and something of a relief, because more time is always a bonus.

I decide to my week’s shopping on the way home, mainly because I have to take the Kinderbeast to a birthday party in the morning. It is, of course, the Night of the Sleepver. The Elderbeast and his best friend have united to drag me into the torturous depths of hell for this one night. I hit the wine, very understandably, almost as soon as I walk through the door. I make burgers for the multitudinous kinderbesten and wonder if this is how the typical 46 year-old single father of two spends his Fridays.

I have instructed the kinderbesten that they are banished to their room after dinner, to enable Seb and I to enjoy Fridate without the cacophonous overtones of insanity. Fortunately, they both have Nintendo Switches, so this presents less of a challenge than expected.

I continue to drink too much wine, knowing I will regret it in the morning. For our Friday Night Horror this week, Seb has chosen 30 Days Of Night. I’ve only seen it once and am very much looking forward to a repeat viewing. It’s a good one, even better than I remembered. My only complaint is that there’s little sense that the story takes place over 30 days, and if it wasn’t for the title I’d assume it took place over little more than 24 hours.

I dunno, 24 Hours of Night stills sounds pretty cool …

I wake up still not feeling brilliant, but less suspect than the day before. On realising that I have failed to grind fresh coffee the night before, I almost give up and stay in bed, but apparently I’m made of sterner stuff than that. I get up, grind the damn coffee, and get stuck into my morning shift. It’s a pretty good session: I’m making good progress on the second draft of my creepy lighthouse story, and I’m really looking forward to seeing how the finished piece shapes up.

I head to work with only one meeting in the calendar to ruin my day. We’re a sadly diminished team this week: one person on holiday, one person sick, one person having left completely. There’s four of us in, then another person leaves due to sickness, and one more heads to another office for the day. Then there were two.

I catch up on some work and then leave early: in theory, to give Beryl a bit of respite from the Kinderbesten. However, I’m really not feeling ship-shape myself and end up resting in bed with a hot mug of Lemsip instead.

The Lemsip revives me enough for dinner to be tackled. The Elderbeast has to devise a national dish for a country he’s invented for his PEAC work. He’s selected a chicken and potato soup–for which we’ve already worked out the recipe (a.k.a shamelessly stole another recipe)–and tonight we attempt to cook it. Things start off frustratingly when the Elderbeast achieves about a 2.3% attention level. I dispatch him to his room for five minutes to rest and recuperate, and then we get back into it: this time he’s into the task and we end up with a huge pot of steaming, delicious smelling chicken soup.

And it turns out damn tasty too.

Wednesday. I reluctantly climb out of bed for my morning shift, but end up writing a new scene for the lighthouse story that fully creeps me out. Which might be a first. I get to work and yet more things break. And then get fixed. The routine is really getting quite tiring by now.

What’s also tiring me out is not being able to find any frames for my nice movie posters. In desperation I reach out to a local framing shop to find out how much a custom frame would cost. They tell me a minimum of $150. I do not like that number, so I turn to gumtree to see what I might be able to salvage from the citizens of Perth. I find an ad offering two framed posters for just $20–I’m not bothered about the posters, but the frames easily look like they’d be large enough for my movie posters. I’m convinced they’ve got the measurements wrong, or that there’s some catch, but it’s not much of a gamble at $20, and the place as good as on the way home.

I manage to get there without getting lost, which is a miracle seeing as I’m venturing into new territory. On the drive down I watch the growing black clouds with apprehension. I arrive just as a light shower begins, but I quickly realise that Google has betrayed me and sent me to the wrong end of the street. I get back in the car, creep down the street, find the correct place, and park again. I just about have time to knock on the seller’s door and hand my cash over before the rain begins thundering down. It’s lucky I had the foresight to put the back seat down, but even in the ten feet between my car and the seller’s front door I get drenched, and my prized frames cop a sprinkling too. Nevertheless, I’m thrilled with my purchase–my first gumtree adventure–and can’t resist sneaking the occasional glimpse to the back seat as I drive home.

My luck continues later that evening: I file my tax return and find I’m in line for a handy $750 refund. Win!

Tuesday. I get up and continue with the lighthouse story. I’m really enjoying this one, and hope that means it’ll turn out well. The Elderbeast wakes up and claims he’s not feeling well (he was on the hot side last night so I’m more willing to listen). I have a dilemma though: I need to switch the tooth he’s left by his bedside for cold hard cash, and do it before he thinks to check. My chance comes when he nips to the toilet: I slide the folded note into the makeshift matchbox he uses as his ‘tooth box’. And it’s not a moment too soon: he checks the second he sits back down again, and is delighted to find his money waiting for him.

He then looks at me quizzically and asks: “Is the tooth fairy real?” I point out that if he decides the tooth fairy is no longer real, then she would no longer be able to bring him money. He considers this briefly, and decides the tooth fairy is real.

Work is consumed by change requests, incident reports, assessments, and other nonsense–but I finally manage my shopping trip to Thingz (delayed from yesterday). I come back with two cushions, a new clock and a rug. I also bring back pastries and cookies for the team. The rest of the afternoon goes slowly. I’m the last one left in the office by 4pm and wonder why it’s not home time yet. I finally get away by 5.

Later at home my phone rings. It’s the Elderbeast’s best friend’s Mum. Except it’s not. It’s Elderbeast’s best friend, and he’s using his Mum’s phone to call my phone so he can speak to the Elderbeast. They want to arrange a sleepover for later in the week and unfortunately I’m long overdue for letting the Elderbeast have his friend over. His friend is great, but the volume level when the two of them are together pushes my stress meter way into the red. It doesn’t help that I’m already feeling very tried and stressed. Perhaps it’s my turn to come down with the office plague …

I have a terrible night’s sleep, which makes Fucken Monday even more … fucken. I’m too hot all night and have all sorts of dreams. At one point I dream that I can hear noises in the house, people moving around. It creeps me out so much that I wake up, wrap a blanket around myself, go to my bedroom door and start shouting “Who’s there??” … at which point I actually wake up and find that I am still safely tucked up in bed.

I wake up late for my morning shift, but still have time to start a second draft of my ‘lighthouse’ story. I wrote the first draft back in March or so, read through it last week, and got excited by it all over again–which is always a good way to be about a story.

I head to work remembering that we have that nasty little bug to sort out on the site, but then find out that I’ve been booked into a two-hour meeting first thing. This does not help. Over the rest of the day we spend a frustrating few hours trying to diagnose the problem, and make preparations to fix it. In the end, after about six hours’ of not really getting anywhere, I track down a suspect line of javascript. Sure enough, that’s the culprit. One tiny change and the problem is fixed.

I hate websites sometimes.

The other downside is that I’d planned to head to Thingz in my lunchbreak to take advantage of their ridiculous end of winter sale (cushions! rugs! blankets!) but there just isn’t time. I head home and play some board games with the kinderbesten. After they go to bed I start watching The Night Manager, which is incredibly good – but also so nerve-wracking in that classic, quiet, British way that I briefly question whether I can cope with it. In the end I’m gunning for a second episode, but find that time has run away from me again.

Unsurprisingly I need a lie in after last night’s shenanigans. I still manage to get up at 8am for a morning shift. I’m conscious that my time is limited today, as I need to make to a Zombicide session by midday. However, it turns out that games are cancelled which works out well: I suspect everyone else is as tired as I am, and grateful for the respite.

Nevertheless, I somehow manage to stick to my original schedule. I have breakfast, get some chicken in the slow cooker, and am out of the house by 11am. I’ve decided to pop out to the shops briefly, if only for the sake of getting out of the house briefly. I get the urge to pick up a new clock and a chalkboard for the kitchen, but come back empty handed. This is good: it means no money has been spent, which is the point that I seem to keep missing about no-spend July.

I get back to the house and decide that my project for today will be to tidy up the dumping ground that also passes for the shelves (Expedit, of course) in my main room (the room that has a TV in it, but can’t easily be called the TV room because the front room also has a TV in it … I possibly have too many rooms). I move a few things around and somehow end up with three empty shelves, and a bunch of very much tidier shelves. Success!

I then have some time for a bit of much-needed guitar practice (it’s remarkable how rusty I am), and I even get enough bonus writing time in to finish the current draft of the story I’m working on.

Because it’s still the school holidays, and Rachel will be looking after the Kinderbestern tomorrow, I’ve suggested that they may as well stay over at hers for tonight–which gives me a bonus #childfree night. I decide to use it as a substitute #childfree Saturday night (since I was out last night) which means a steak dinner and an awesome film. Tonight I enjoy the second chapter of my brief Tarantino odyssey, which brings me to The Hateful Eight, which I’ve arbitrarily decided will make for good Sunday night viewing.

I start watching early, because it’s such a damn long film, but my streaming service keeps buffering, which makes it an even damner longer film. I enjoy it, even though it is objectively too damn long. It’s beautifully crafted and, once again, wears its love of cinema on its sleeve, expertly melding genres and playing with conventions. You can see the point midway where it seems as though Tarantino was even managing to bore himself and decided to pull out every single stop. At this point it’s not necessarily a film I would rush to watch a second time, but–as with Inglorious Basterds–I’m glad I’ve finally seen it, and kick myself a little for needlessly depriving myself of the experience for so long.

It’s Saturday: blessed, glorious, Designated Lie In Day. So, I have a lie in but somehow sitll make it to the shops for 9am. I then head straight to collect my father-in-law who has offered to help me move and fit my new washing machine. There’s a high chance I could fit it on my own. Move it? Not so much.

You might recall that I had intentions of leaving that new washing machine in the garage until such time as its service was required. Well, that time arrived last night when the old washing machine decided to make a sound like sand grinding through gears, and then couldn’t even be arsed to finish its spin cycle, leaving to me to hang up clothes that were all but still dripping. It’s as if it knew there was a replacement waiting in the wings.

As an added bonus, the new machine left behind an enormous cardboard box, which I suspect will be verrry popular with both the Kinderbesten and the Kittenbesten. Because, yes, I can’t just call them ‘cats’ … apparently …

I take my father-in-law back home, and then return for an egg and bacon sandwich and more coffee. I also make a vat of meat sauce so I can stock up the freezer with a few meals. I have to head out for the evening, which I have been equally looking forward to and dreading. Looking forward to because it’s going to an awesome night out with many of my favourite people; dreading because it means going out out – not just out to someone’s house, but out to the … outness. Also known as Subiaco.

I’ve offered to be the designated driver for the evening, which is partly insane because one of the things that is most stressing me out is wondering how on earth we’re going to park in Subiaco on a Saturday night. I guess it’s one of those facing your fears moments. In the end we not only park quickly and easily, but virtually on the doorstop of where we’re going. It turns out that Subiaco is about as lively as my spare room on a Saturday night, and there was very little to get stressed about.

We tuck into some Mexican food and then get into the point of the evening. My friends who run the AAA Project, and whose seminar I attended a week or two back, have organised a repeat showing of the Wesley Goodlet Jamboree Scouts One-Hit Wonders Show as a fundraiser. I’m hugely excited about being able to see this show a second time while *also* being able to contribute to their charity! It’s a great night: the music is awesome, they exceed their fundraising goal, and deliver a couple of genuinely touching and inspiring addresses to the crowd.

However, it is also a long night. It’s hovering around midnight by the time I’ve dropped my friends off and am able to make my own way home. I’m hugely tired: I’m C Thomas Howell at the beginning of The Hitcher tired. I keep a close eye out for any sign of Rutger Hauer.

I make it home safely, grateful that I had the foresight to leave some lights on before I left. I quickly feed the cats and retreat to my bed which, tonight, is the best bed in the whole fucking universe.

It’s Friday, which brings the last day at work for one member of our team. I stop off for a farewell card and some cake, then get to work and discover our departing colleague has already brought in Top Dup Donuts for us all! Later, we enjoy a farewell lunch of champagne and pizza. The afternoon is marred somewhat by the discovery of a fairly prominent bug on our website, but we can little more than deploy some damage control.

I head home for another childfree weekend. I don’t want to have to rush down to the supermarket (and do my week’s shopping) but I haven’t planned far enough ahead to anything lined up for dinner. I perform a desperate hunt through the freezer and come out with some lentil burgers. A bit of melted cheese on top, and some sauteed carrots and red cabbage on the side, and I’m all set.

I do my hoovering and tidying up and, somehow, am only just sitting down to eat when Seb arrives for Fridate; the glorious, official start to the weekend. Our viewing for this evening is The Hitcher, deferred from last night. I haven’t watched it for years, but as we settle I remember that it’s a film I used to watch over and over and over again. There are bits that I’ve forgotten, but every beat is familiar. The best part is the film is still every bit as good as I always thought it was, possibly even better now that I can watch it with fresh eyes again. Rutger Hauer gets hardly any lines, but dominates the film. This is potentially the first time that I’ve watched his performance and realised that he’s playing John Ryder as much of a victim as everyone else in the film. I enjoy it so much, I’m almost ready to watch it again right away.

Afterwards I read about the sequel, and the more recent remake. I decide I will not be watching either of them.

Thursday. I’m about to enter a Day Of Hell: I have meetings booked solidly from 9am to 4pm. I am deeply unenthused about this prospect. In fact I am so unenthused that I accidentally hit ‘off’ instead of ‘snooze’ when flailing about in the direction of my alarm. As a consequence I get up half an hour later than planned, which means half an hour less time in which to write. Not a great start to the day, and frustrating when I’m really, really into the story I’m working on.

I have a narrow window of potential between my first and second meetings in which I might be able to get coffee. My first meeting almost starts late, and I begin see my window dwindling. Luckily it’s just a team meeting, which means I get to wrap it up early and off I go to get my coffee. I’m then ten minutes early for my next meeting. Go figure.

My third meeting of the day is immediately after the second meeting and, conveniently, in the same room. However, I am then told that the third meeting has been delayed by half an hour. As my fourth meeting is in the city, this now means I have to skip the third meeting in order to get to my fourth meeting. This is convenient as it means I definitely wont to arrive late to my fourth meeting: which needs to finish early so I can get back in time for my fifth meeting of the day.

Since I don’t know when or where I’ll have a chance to eat, I’ve packed some peanut butter sandwiches in my bag. In the end, lunch is provided during the fourth meeting (the one in the city) which is a pretty awesome result. Even more awesomely, the meeting finishes early, enabling us to get back from the city well before the fifth and final meeting of the day is due to start (it’s a presentation by the senior executive group, so I’m determined that we should not be the ones to walk in late).

Another 90 minutes later, the Day Of Hell is finally over. Most of the meetings were useful in some way or other, and I even managed to get some tiny bits of work done in between several of them. Of greatest importance is the fact that both lunch and coffee happened.

And then I have to head straight home as I’ve asked Rachel to help me pick up my new washing machine (she got the older, bigger, fully paid off car as part of the settlement; I got the smaller, newer, still-being-paid off car). It begins raining as soon as we head out, and the traffic proves abysmal, so everything takes twice as long. We need to reverse the car into the pick up area of the store but–hilariously–there’s an enormous truck parked by the entrance. I end up offering to attempt the manoeuvre–prime entertainment in the darkness, and rain, with the windows all misted up. Even more hilariously, another car tries to pull into the pick up area right behind us, successfully blocking the narrow passage left at the side of the truck. I knock on his window and suggest he might want to go back and let us out before he tries to collect his goods. He obliges and consequently we don’t have to resort to blind ugly violence.

We get back and, between the two of us, manage to get the washing machine out of the car and into my garage without any serious injuries. And there it will stay until such a time as I decide to connect it up. Or the old washing machine carks it and takes the choice out of my hands.

After all that, it’s chips, eggs and beans for dinner, because I wasn’t organised enough to get a full week’s worth of food shopping at the weekend; but I am organised enough to ensure that I always have chips, eggs and beans on standby.

The Kinderbeast has claimed his spot in my bed for the night, so I settle him down while I shower (because it’s so damn late) and then order the Elderbeast to shower (because he’s so damn filthy). One of the cats curls up on the bed right next to the Kinderbeast, which is very cute until he decides he’s had enough and demands that I remove the cat.

The Elderbeast decides to spend his evening watching a film with Beryl. Some time ago I picked up a three-disc set of the Mighty Ducks films for him, and he chooses to watch that. It takes a while to work out film one comes first. Most countries just have The Mighty Ducks, then D2: The Mighty Ducks, and D3: The Mighty Ducks. Which is easy. So, we figure the first film will be The Mighty Ducks. No! Wrong! Our set has three films: Champions, The Mighty Ducks and D3: The Mighty Ducks. You see, over here, The Mighty Ducks is the *sequel* to Champions, the film which is called The Mighty Ducks everywhere else.

Confused yet?

In any case, he loves it. I have a blast listening to him giggling and cheering along to the film while I sit at my desk and catch up on work.

It’s Wednesday. I manage the rare feat of getting out of bed at 6:30am. It probably helps a lot that I’m really excited about the story I’m working on, and I really want to get some proper writing time in.

With the kids not at school I’m able to head to work relatively early. I drive there in the rain, and the weather only gets worse once I get to the office–standing defiantly between me and my coffee. I get some work done and finally get impatient just after 10am. I grab my umbrella from the car and make the ludicrously chilly walk down to Bang Bang. I then spend much of the day trying to plough through my oversized and overdue to-do list and make pretty good progress, despite some meetings getting in the way. After some consideration, I decide to make a complaint about the person who complained about my team on Monday. It’s not a thing I do at all often, or lightly, but my team works hard and they deserve my support when people start to point fingers at them.

When I eventually stop for lunch I realise that I’ve made no plans for dinner. I call Beryl and ask her to get some bolognese sauce out of the freezer (which, in the end, turns out to be beef stew). By the time I get home it still hasn’t defrosted, so I have to tease and nurture it with the microwave before it’s ready to cook. As we eat, the kinderbesten negotiate who gets to sleep in my bed: the Elderbeast claims his spot tonight (which I allow, because he’s managed two consecutive nights of not getting into my bed); the Kinderbeast claims tomorrow night, which I also allow because why not.