I love my job...

So the boss has been giving everyone time off.
The plant is broken, we've cleaned everything to within an inch of its life, its Xmas, so he's been generous. Which is nice, right?

Well, you'd think, wouldn't you...

He gave Ginger Ninja (who was on nights) most of his shift off as we didn't need that machine running all night. Cool.
I come in a 6am. Start work, sorting things out. Boss arrives at 9am. I see him at about 11am. He tells me Thursday shift is cancelled, the weekend shifts are cancelled, everyone is getting a shift off.
Great.
"Can I leave a little early? an hour or two?" I'm hopeful, surely I can get away early today...
"No, sorry, I can't afford to have that part of the plant shut down today."

Eh? The part that you shut down for 6 hours last night, the part you are shutting all weekend, the part that produces the product we can't find room to store any more? That part can't be shut down for 2 hours today? How does that work?

So I did 32 hours this week. Indian Guy did 20, Ginger Ninja did 6, and Temp guy did no hours... Please note, those are the hours I did - far, far less work was done. In fact, had he let me have 2 hours off, I'd have done more work in 10 hours than I did in 12.
I guess there are way and means for levelling the field.

It seemed a bit crap as I was driving home... That post what I wrote, I mean...

I know it wasn't the worst Xmas ever... But it was for me. My worst Xmas Ever. Because I've been blessed with a series of good Christmases. Nobody ever died, was robbed, or ill, nobody ever had a massive row or... anything. It wasn't dramatic but warm, loving and comfortable. They always went with love, fun, food, drink, and love.

I guess I'm not used to it.

WXE!!

So I wake up on Xmas day... Its cold. Very cold. We've been without heating for 2 years now, and I should be used to it, but I'm not. Wifey is working and we are collecting her at 8:20 for a 3-4 hour run up the lovely British motorway system before lunch with the family, a visit to my mum's nursing home, and a chance of a beer.
Number One Son is not a morning person and snarls at me when I wake him. I wash and dress, he stalks about and decides he needs to iron clothes at 7:55... I'm already stressed at the prospect of driving, visits and a sister who hasn't spoken to me in over a month despite repeated attempts to contact her. Soon he's nearly ready. I ask him to throw me some deodorant that is near him. He does. With force. And he throws it low. The impact doesn't quite leave me doubled up, but its close. The pain is excruciating and he realises not only that he hit me harder than he meant to, but I know he meant to hit me. He scuttles away and stays out of my way.
An errand is run and we arrive about 5 minutes late to collect Wifey.
I needn't have worried. She's nowhere near ready, and though she says she's getting ready, I see no sign of it. A bonus is a kiss, no two kisses, from Pandora, who I fancy greatly...
Eventually we get on the road, at about 8:55... I'm worried about the weather, traffic and everything else.
For once the roads are relatively clear and we arrive without much problem, there are a few slow spots, but mostly its OK.

Except that Dad isn't there. He's gone to younger sisters. We run over, coffee and bacon sandwiches, shaking hands, kisses all round, cooing over the baby... Dad vanishes off to see mum. We arrange to swap cars. Dad's pretty wound up, even for him. He's not going to blow, but I can't see him making it through the day intact.
We dive home to change shower, unload the car, sort the pressies. And just as we are about to leave he comes in. "We're going to see mum, we are eating at 3pm, so we'll be back at 2pm. OK? Be ready and we can get straight off." I say - its a simple plan, what can go wrong?
Nothing from our end. I see my mum, its awful and upsetting, but she seems fine. I go to get some cash... I'm about £150 down on where I think I should be. Fuck. My stomach is flipping. Well - nothing I can do now. I get cash from another stash and we are off again. We arrive back at Dad's place. "I'm meditating. I wont be long."
So its Xmas day, I'm dying for a pint and something to eat, we're supposed to be arriving at 2:15 to walk up to the restaurant... instead I'm sat in a front room, stressing, the telly isn't working, and it's 2:40.
Five minutes later we are moving again. Straight to the restaurant, skip the family walk, no time. No chance of an early beer. In the restaurant they are really nice. Tell me I can leave the car, where to lock it... and supply beer and food. At last and at least I can start my Xmas.
Except that Dad decides to have a panic attack in the middle of dinner and leaves. The full horror hits us a bit later, when we realise he hasn't paid the bill, like he said he was going to. The little cash I have takes a pasting. (I later find out we should have called him, he was going to pay over the phone, but brother-in-law said that wasn't the case and convinced us we'd have to pay. I'm pretty annoyed, because we are the only ones who couldn't afford the food -the others are OK for cash... Fuck it. Too late now.) The food is OK. Annoying sister talks to me, mostly. We leave feeling better.
Back to my sister's house for swapping of presents, which all goes OK.
Well - it goes OK until my present from Wifey is handed to me.
I'm stunned as I open it. 2 Tickets, Royal Albert Hall, Cirque de Solei, January... "Its that weekend I told you to book!" she squeals with delight.
I say the only thing I could say... "I tried. I can't get that weekend off. Someone else is on holiday." I feel like the earth has opened up and I'm falling.
"I thought you got it sorted" She says.
"I told you I tried, but it was taken" I reply. I want to cry. Its a lovely present. And an expensive one. Nearly £200. And its useless.
"Just throw a sickie" someone suggests, helpfully.
"I'm on a warning for attendance, I'll get fired." I mutter.

Its about now that Dad has another panic attack and heads home, leaving us with Baby Sister. Middle sister, the annoying one, leaves a few minutes after Dad decides to go.
We have a few more beers then Bro-in-Law decides he wants to watch a film. He goes on about it so much that we give in. And, of course, its crap. I mean, really crap. Another 2 hours of my life I don't get back.

We order a taxi and go home.

All this time I feel sick as a dog. Not physically, but emotionally. The falling feeling that started when I saw the tickets hasn't gone away. I can't even look Wifey in the eye. I want to leave, but thankfully I'm too drunk to drive.

I know its all minor irritations, in reality, but it was the Worst Xmas Ever.

Xmas wishes

I hope you have a good Xmas. Wherever and whatever that entails for you.

Aftermath...

Went out last night with Landlady, BF and Tigerman. Was a bit worried about getting very drunk, as they are far heavier drinkers than I am these days.
I needn't have worried...

We met in a pub in the city that has recently been refurbished. It's absolutely fantastic. Real fire, great beer, comfy, modern yet reassuringly old fashioned... Just my sort of place!
Then we went to the curry restaurant. It was a buffet and I didn't have great hopes for it, the quality is usually not up to much as they are trying to provide a range of food for not much money.
The food, however, was excellent, the waiters were attentive without being overbearing and it was a completely excellent experience. I was worried when cocktails made an appearance, but I managed to hold my nerve and only have one, and I deliberately went for one I wasn't going to glug down in seconds flat.
After the meal we stopped in at another pub for a "swift gin", although I drank some scotch. Met some new people, and felt fairly happy with my input, as I can sometimes get a bit OTT when I meet new people.
Finally home for a contentedly full slump in front of the telly and a nice sleep...

Makes a change!

Daylight.

I've been working nights, and have finished with them for the moment.
Until Early January, at least... I am absolutely strung out after the shift, and feel exhausted.
To cope with this, tonight, I am going to eat curry and have a beer...

And Now... I intend to have a bath, and listen to the footy on the radio...

Its not getting any better, is it?

Its just Loom Loom Loom... Bode Bode Bode...

Zgirl sent me a message when I was in a bad way the other day, I was trying to be nice, so said something like "Im not in a good place, very down, I'll only be nasty if we talk tonight..." simply because I just couldn't be fun.
Next day I was still bad, but better and asked how she was. And I realised what a gap there is between her and me from a cultural point.
All she could say to me was "Why do you get down? Just don't worry about things and it will be ok."
I tried to explain in a message, but she just doesn't get it. Depression is so far outside of her experience it just doesn't register on the radar. To her I, have it made. How could i possibly be sad? Why am I not happy all the time? It is a simple thing to be happy, don't worry and all will be well...
I guess the world is a simpler place to her. Probably for the better...

I really don't feel like a nice person today. Bought Xmas presents, made food, spent time, sorted money issues... Feel like a total bastard, and have all day.
I don't think I've done anything to deserve this, any more than any other day - but the feeling still remains.

Maybe it will be better tomorrow.

Its been a tough week at work, hence the lack of posts... That and little to say!

Normal service, i.e. whining, moaning, general fed-upness will return shortly.

Sometimes the sun breaks through...

A friend I haven't heard from in over 10 years got in touch this evening.
She was the first person on my college course that I spoke to. Because we were on the same open day and got chatting.
Its been a long time, but I am so completely happy to have heard from her, its almost embarrassing.

Dreams, funny blighters...

I woke up this morning with a big grin on my face. I'd been so happy in my dream.
Mainly, and please remember that this is a dream, because I'd had MS.
As far as I can recall my dream was that I was diagnosed with and gone through, what my dream told me were, the stages of MS. I was pleased as punch with this. I'd driven around to see all my friends to tell them, and had had an uproariously good laugh at their reactions. Then I went home to be sicker and sicker and wait for death.
So why was I so happy about it? I dunno - but I was.

I suppose I could pop-psych it about ending situations and stuff, but I prefer it just to be a really weird dream about what it was about.

Deep breaths.

A lot of that going on at the moment.
Can't get my head straight - I know, its a recurring motif...
I'm also struggling with motivation at the moment, so blog posts are a trifle difficult to get round to composing any posts that don't just bleat about one thing or another. So I've not published any, because they aren't fun to write, and they are less fun to read.

With Xmas looming, and it is looming, my mood is only going to struggle further. I'm working a lot over the period, and I'd much rather not be working at all. And also, its going to be the first Xmas with Mum in the home, and not with us. Only 3 years ago she cooked the dinner, with a bit (lot) of help Wifey, now she can't remember where she left her teeth. Its not without its moments, writing that just made me laugh (somewhat uncomfortably, but I laughed at the ridiculous surreality of the situation, nonetheless.)
Looks like an Xmas dinner at a curry house for the family this year. Nobody wants to make dinner, and nobody wants to be at Dad's without Mum. At least it will be a novel experience.
It will be only the 5th places I've eaten a dinner on Xmas day. The others being My parents house, my grandparents, my own dwelling, and my sister in laws house, just the one time when Wifey was working Xmas day.

I wonder what next year will bring?

Busy time at work.
Tiring, but, for once, and I can scarcely believe I'm saying this, it wasn't too bad at work. The plant behaved, the boss wasn't bothering me too much, I got stuff done without too much hassle...

At home, Wifey was... rather cold an distant both emotionally and physically (She spent one whole day out with her mates.)
The illness she's been suffering from is still no closer to being diagnosed, and in fact, another blood test was needed. So I had to go with her to the doctors to get it done. Apparently there was some sort of technical issue with the sample.
After that, on to her friends for an afternoon of chat and amusement. Except that I have begun to find Farah boring and Sam annoyingly dull... So I sat, smiled, nodded, listened to the same stories we always recite, chipped in a comment and story when it was expected.
God I was glad to get out of there.
Oddly enough, the headache and swoons were not in anyway evident while with Farah and Sam. Despite several near collapses during the visit to the doctors, a walk round town and a bit of Tesco shopping... I know, I'm a total bastard. But I'm out of sympathy.

Got a call from work that I was needed at 6am tomorrow morning, so drove up to the digs this evening.

Now I'm chilling with a bit of crap on the telly, a bit of chocolate and a drop of malt...

Shame

I am feeling ashamed.
Work wasn't too bad today, but I still feel pretty crappy, and have done since before the weekend. So I did a shameful thing. Two things, really.
First I paid for it, then I started to enjoy it...

I can't afford this. I shouldn't be drinking it.

Its Delicious.