I made a list of all the things that upset me lately with the intention of finding and writing down at least three positive things about each one. Got stuck on the first one and gave it up resigning to the fact that things are what they are and trying to make them look different doesn’t make them different anyway.
Off-topic. I’ve noticed recently that the red traffic light at the crossing I use every morning on my way to work has a shape of a heart. How cute it that?! The yellow one is just round and the green one is a doodly person. I intend to check out if any other street lights have the same. You never notice such things do you, you just see the light and press the breaks.
Anyway. I’m burdened with the load of the new construction project. Emotionally. The burden being in taking the responsibility for everything. Literally. Finding the contractor, making choices in design, compromising on the choices due to the lack of possibilities, finding possibilities and being the one to pick up the accidental issues and to clear out mess after the builders gone. It’s a full time job – to think of all these things all the time. And I already have a full time job, thank you very much. There are moments when I feel so overwhelmed by the necessities of doing things in the right time and in the right order, I tend to cut off social supply and spend some time within my private space. At least that’s the intention for seclusion. I’m sure it’ll all work out in the end. I’m just not so sure when this proverbial “end” will finally come. For the time being I just assume there is no end and adjust my mind accordingly.
One of the things that annoys me about the way how capitalist system treats the consumer is the total absence of any kind of standards. You would’ve thought there are too many of them, as you hear from the media on a daily basis is how the standards are broken one way or another. But the truth is. There are no standards to be broken in the first place, duh! Having been through quite a few modernisation projects by now, I know this not by ear but hard way. I am the sufferer of the non-standardised industry's standards. I spilled my blood, sometimes literally, fitting standard fittings and fixtures to the standard bases and elements. So when the last standard item that doesn’t fit the standard equipment arrived yesterday, i wasn’t too surprised. I was, however, upset. Too much for the scale of the significance of this particular item. I suspect it has become the last straw in my cocktail of disappointments. So I reacted rather inadequately and too much over the top. I didn’t go dancing yesterday night, and that stands at the highest mark on my scale of upsets. It wasn’t a problem at all if you look at it reasonably. The special bathroom bench to help a disable person getting in and out of the bath didn’t fit my bathtub. Well, it can be amended to serve the purpose, of course, but it will involve some metal cutting and maybe something more skillful than that. But why should I have to cut the parts or make new holes in them when the item was sold as “totally adjustable” and “tool free” assembly?! The “total” wasn‘t total after all or at least my standard bathtub wasn’t quite as standard. Whatever the reason, the trigger triggered and knocked me off my usually cheerful-and-hopeful self. So I degraded to the primitive rant about the things I can’t control...how embarrassing it is to understand the real reason is not that much of a matter at all and yet still unable to keep it in.
The Kid has finally got out of initial adaptation period for his diabetes and now feels confident enough to move out of the nest. He is moving to London within the next few weeks. It’s going to be interesting for me. From one hand I won’t have these extra care duties helping him out with the day-to-day routines related to his condition, from the other hand it’ll add few more things to worry about to my Chest-Of-Worries. Being full already, this might create some interesting effects.
More off chest for the chest. The boss called me to his office and told I have to do more then I’m doing already. What a surprise. We have a new exiting project and my colleague is busy full time on it, so I’m doing the business-as-usual part supporting his time on a project. Now I’m, apparently, supposed to do the new project support calls as well, coz of course we will eventually switch over to it and I should be able to support it. Fine. So how exactly does this work out when I am to do the usual daily stuff, the cover for my colleague stuff and the new stuff. Well, multitasking, dear. Multitasking and you have to start caring less for the users and do not go all the length to help them. Hmmm...perfect customer service attitude eh? That’s enough of my pain-in-an-ass-job rambling
At times I’m wondering things and, well, other things too, I do wonder. I remember the past, when ex never came home with the flowers, not even once. Not for Mother’s day or things like that. And the usual excuse was he couldn’t find flowers good enough for me. Interesting how it comes that of all the more significant things, I remember this particular meaningless thing so well. Must’ve been a big ouch at that time. Some time later to my wondering about where did everyone’s gone suddenly right after they’ve been informed of our divorce, one friend explained to me that he couldn’t call because he didn’t know what to do if I would POSSIBLY start to cry or something. Makes sense, don’t you think: because I am unable to cope with another's depression, I’d rather let them alone to cope on their own. Or something along these lines. I’m quite used to hear I knew I won’t be able to help, therefore I didn’t get in touch. Or I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t phone you. And other bullshit like that, you know...
In the end of a day all of these doesn’t really matter. I’m whole and complete without anyone’s concern for it. It is said that people treat you exactly the way you allow yourself to be treated. So it is all my own fault, I guess. Perhaps, I’m not coping with the change quite well. But I only do what I can and no more than that, so kill me for it. Rant’s over.