There’s no argh in particular actually, just more fed up, with me, with life, actually mostly fed up with me, a crisis in confidence in life, alongside a crisis in confidence that Boy Lacer will ever settle well at playgroup particularly because the nin-com-poops (how do you spell that word?) have lost his registration forms (which explains why they weren’t particularly prepared for him on Friday) and implied that they hadn’t got their forms because I hadn’t sent them, excuse me! I sent a 3 bl**dy page word document alongside that form as I couldn’t fit all the information in the paragraph sized ‘any special needs ?’ box, so yes I bl**dy sent it and a long time ago as well. Can’t you tell I’m so not looking forward to taking him to his second session this Friday. Other than that and just worrying about Boy Lacer in general and wishing they’d get a move on with his second developmental check, I’m just fed up with me, I am such an appalling bad housewife it’s beyond a joke, I seem to spend half my life merrily thinking scr*w housework I’ve got better things to do with my life and the other half frantically trying to clear it up as I can’t find something. And I’ve decided I really do hate this bl**dy time of year to, I’m broke (not new) and you try living in a very affluent area (the sort of place stockbrokers go and have their 2.4 kids) when you’ve got hardly any money, specially this time of year where there is conspicious consumption everywhere! Almost makes me wish I was my NaNoWriMo character on her morally dubious starship hurtling through space to an unknown destination, at least they don’t have to worry about money and having very little personal possessions, no housework either!
