August is gonna be a busy month, really busy. Plus there’s a number of things that I’ll be counting down to:
On or before the 15th the old boy’s moving pad. 21st is the old boy’s birthday and marks two years of me having a licence to drive a motor (no kills for 2 years, it’s almost a mirror of my counter-strike stats).
Then we get down to the fact that on the 30th it’ll be “I’m that little bit older” day.
Oh well, at least it’s payday on Friday!
Well yesterday (11 January 2007) definitely isn’t going to be nominated for the “best day of 2007” category at this years “mystic remembers the year just gone awards” on Christmas Day 2007.
It started off innocently enough as I had a Sky installation (consisting of one standard box, one sky plus box & 16MB broadband) scheduled to take place. I won’t go into one about how on Tuesday British Telecom managed to FUBAR the home telephone line because it’s just not worth it.
So, late night, followed by early start to wait for Sky to ring and let me know when someone is coming. 2 hours later, no call, off to a flying start here.
Meanwhile BT engineer turns up. Nice enough bloke, quite chatty. As with most of the installers I meet, can’t be bothered to follow company procedure and give me a rake of old flannel about what’s happening. He just told me exactly what was wrong and then fixed the fucker, solid.
It’s about 2pm by the time the BT chap has finished (what essentially looked like a rewire of the entire street) and still no word from Sky. So we give the old call up, forced through the old menu maze and presto one automated message along the lines of “bit too busy to talk right now, but basically we turn up whenever we like between (a) & (b) and that’s your tough titties” message.
Not ever being a fan, I abuse the menu system to find “a human being” who tells me they’re very sorry they didn’t ring me and they’re job is scheduled for between 1pm & 4pm.
I’m sick of having drinks go cold on me at work. Every bloody time I make myself something to drink, I then get to do something for two hours that means I don’t get to take even a sip. Upon returning to a realistic “Mug from Arm Distance” the inevitable always occurs… sip, cringe, spit.
I’m becoming very disillusioned with almost everything related or connected to my family of late.
They are literally driving me nuts. They all have this god awful habit of hiding things, really important things. The more I think about the issues that have cropped up recently, the more it comes home to roost that you really, really, really DON’T get to choose your family.
Everything else in my life at the moment feels like it’s just being juggled. Nothing seems to take form or shape in any way, it all just feels like it’s just “there” with no particular purpose.
On a brighter note, I’m really looking forward to Christmas. Just some time away from this fucking god forsaken office will be the best present I could wish for.