Minimal Adulting

Today I have done the bare minimum to pass as an adult, and spent the rest of it asleep. This is my default, ‘the world is too much’, response. It used to be going out and getting pissed and dancing till four in the morning. Now it involves a slanket and a healthy disdain for anything I have to wear that isn’t pyjamas.

My dishwasher went on strike this morning. Not only did it fail to wash anything, it also failed to drain, and then emptied itself all over my kitchen floor. I was surprisingly calm about this. Some light swearing, a lot of mopping and a bit of staring at pipes under the sink unit and I was able to categorically assure myself that I still know nothing about plumbing.

An engineer was supposed to come out by three this afternoon. Naturally this means we have seen hide nor hair of him and he may or may not appear tomorrow at some point. In the meantime I had a slight moment of woe when I realised that the dinner I had chosen to cook used ALL the saucepans, the grill, a roasting tin and forty seven other things all of which needed washing up by hand.

I was not, however, resourceful enough to think of making something else. I am in one of my non-inspired phases of cooking which involves me thinking wistfully of cheese sandwiches and Hula Hoops while being required to actually assemble real food for four other people at times I don’t really want to eat it. This is largely down to the hormone thing, as everything I eat tastes either of soap or metal at the moment and it is not entirely thrilling to spend several hours chained to a stove to then have to stolidly much through the soap/metal combo.

In between falling asleep I am reading Kate Atkinson’s A God in Ruins. It is so wonderful I am quite sad that I keep waking up with it welded to my face. I remember reading Behind the Scenes at the Museum when it first came out and loving it so much. It is so pleasing that she just gets better and better as the years go by.

Other than that, I have signed forty million school letters, which will end up costing me eleventy squillion pounds due to impending school trips and the like. I have failed to pick up Tallulah’s boot from the mender (she is not hopping to school, all is well). I have done some work and ignored other work on the understanding that no matter what I do, there will always be more of it tomorrow.

I have also booked my yearly ‘fucking hell my bloody hormones, save me, you bastards,’ appointment at the Doctor’s. I envisage it going much like the ones I have every year, where they dismiss everything I say and try to give me something that will make me more bat shit crazy than I usually am. I will sit in the car park and weep, drive to the nearest shop to mainline whatever it is I’m eating that day that doesn’t taste like bicycle spare parts and then get a bit stabby about it all. This too shall pass.

In the meantime, I am keeping half an eye on the news. Who knew that I’d end up cheering on John Bercow? These times make for interesting bedfellows.

 

 

11 responses to “Minimal Adulting

  1. I’ve just finished – and loved – A God in Ruins. I might have to re-read Life after Life again now though. Except there are too many books I haven’t read even once …..

  2. I think we should all hibernate through January. If that drifts on into the first week in February, that’s ok.

    With you on the Bercow thing.

  3. My first thought as Bercow got his dander up was: I wonder how long before he is put out to pasture, citing the need to spend more quality time with his family?

    Personally, I think DJ’s visit should be delayed until he realises that the government of this small planet’s diverse species is a real and weighty responsibility, and is not, as he seems to believe, an ego-driven money-making reality show where the White House dictates what Truth is. And will someone, please, close his Twitter account?

    Had a migraine, yesterday – it had been on its way for several days (just to fess up, I had one chocolate flake from Cliff’s birthday cake, and a dollop of Nutella on some rice cakes. Why are bovine based foodstuffs so poisonous and so delicious?). Visual disturbance like the nexus in Star Trek, pain like a pickaxe in my head and back. I drank a bottle of water and walked blindly around the house, doing neck and shoulder rolls. An hour later, the migraine had gone – well, not gone exactly, that takes several days, but the volume had lowered to a manageable level. Totes amazeballs.

    Yes, the taste of foodstuffs. Metal (iron deficiency?) mixed with something scientists haven’t discovered yet. I suspect they’ll find it in vixen urine.

    Hope the dishwasher/plumbing problem gets sorted out quickly. Bummer. As is a smoke alarm whose battery goes on the bleeping blink in the middle of the night.

  4. Well I did suggest a duvet day or two, so pyjamas and regular naps are a step in the right direction I think.
    Good luck with the annual ‘for God’s sake help me’ appointment, I wish I could give you good advice on how to achieve a positive outcome but I’ve spent about 40 years now failing miserably myself. Although you could try not waiting until you get to the car park, I didn’t find it made much difference to the end result when I (albeit involuntarily) tried it, but at least it made them bloody uncomfortable for a few minutes.

    Regarding Mr Bercow, we are having a lively day on Buckingham Mutters (our community facebook page) as we are his constituency, so to speak. Having spent years complaining that the good folk of Buckingham have no parliamentary voice (not necessarily a bad thing judging by some of the comments), some are now incandescent that he has dared to make a statement regarding the suitability of someone to address parliament, apparently failing to see the connection between his job description and this break with neutrality.
    Since so many of them supported brexit it is safe to say that much of the indignation at the snubbing of the cheesy wotsit has to do with believing we need a ‘good’ trade deal, whether Trump is a bigoted, racist, narcissistic misogynist who wouldn’t recognise the truth if it bit him in the arse or not. Some reactions are proof, should you need it, that it isn’t only dumb Americans who can’t or won’t accept any evidence that isn’t convenient to their personal prejudices.

    I am, of course, delighted and feel he has fully justified my voting for him twice when the dastardly ukip broke with convention and put up candidates against him. The fact that I would have voted for a stuffed owl in preference to Nigel Farage and whatever the other twat was called, is neither here nor there. Sadly I couldn’t entirely trust my fellow constituents to do the decent thing so abstaining wasn’t an option, but I consoled myself with the fact that a) Bercow was no longer a Conservative b) he is actually a good and conscientious local representative who takes his responsibilities seriously and c) he pissed off a lot of fellow Conservatives, not least by supporting the rights of gay couples to adopt and having to resign from the cabinet as a result. He fell out big time with Ian Duncan Smith, which can only be a good thing, I just wish he’d punched him in the kneecaps while he was at it.

  5. Poor you. The ‘tasting of spoons’ thing must be incredibly depressing (I had it during pregnancy, mercifully not since), but I am willing to voluntarily take it off your hands for a bit, if that helps, as I seriously need to stop thinking about food (it’s the same every year after the Xmas festivities).

    A God in Ruins is totally wonderful. Kate Atkinson is totally wonderful. As you say, she just gets better and better. But I do DO hope your read Life After Life first, as it is part one! Also totally wonderful.

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