The Sh*t Bit…

I saw someone post on Facebook this week that people who only have happy positive status updates were not being completely honest – that sometimes life is just a bit sh*t.

After an amazing couple of weeks where I got promoted, had a birthday and generally felt lucky, humbled and a bit like I was floating on air, I’ve come down to earth with a bit of a thud.

So in the interests of having a good moan balancing the scales, here it comes.

The sh*t bit.

It all started with a second rubbish night’s sleep in a row as my back grumbled and groaned through the early hours after a pretty ‘robust’ acupuncture/ massage/ cupping session on Saturday.

A bad night’s sleep is NEVER good…and also one of the many reasons I don’t have children.

Anyway I fronted up to the train station this morning to buy my weekly travel card only to have my debit card declined. Upon further investigation, it transpired that my card had actually been cancelled by the Fraud Team (FT) at my bank…last Thursday (today is Monday). While I’m all for taking steps to ensure that some bugger doesn’t empty my funds albeit meagre from my account, a notification (like a text message or phone call which said bank seems to use at will for a myriad of other occasions) would be nice. Let me tell you, I can think of a few other words FT could stand for.

Needless to say, I held my breath as I waited for the credit card from my ‘other’ bank to clear the funds for my ticket.

I arrived at the office, looking forward to a quiet moment with my coffee to ease into the busy day ahead. I opened my email to find that the person from our Russian office who was to join us for 6 months to cover a colleague‘s maternity leave from today was refused entry into the UK and shipped back to Moscow on a flight at 8.50 this morning. Oh crap crap crap!

Then mid morning I placed a call to my local medical centre to follow up a referral from an appointment 3 weeks ago. After having to explain several times that I wasn’t chasing the results but the referral and asking for the letter to be re-faxed (as I had been asked to do by the nurse), I was given a number to call to get a name so that the fax could be addressed to a specific person for me to follow up.

On the best of days, this convoluted sort of process tests me. Today…

…and to make matters worse the number I was given didn’t connect, so I had to ring back and explain everything again. Apparently I was going to get a call back this afternoon…

Finally I left the office. I had a physiotherapy appointment booked (for said grumpy back) so I got to the station in plenty of time…and managed to get on a train that didn’t stop at my station. The lovely train station lady at St Pancras did let me get back on a train going the other way 15 minutes later (instead of fining me for not having a ‘valid ticket for travel’) and I did get home in time for a quick change of clothes before my appointment so you could argue that things were starting to turn around.

But quite frankly it was a day I could have done without.

I know that there could have been a lot of other, much worse things to deal with than my litany of inconsequential irritations. But it just didn’t feel like I could catch a break. So I figure that tomorrow’s got to be a better day…


First Desire…Now The One

It’s been almost three years since we first met.

Before I knew it our daily dalliance had given way to deep devotion, a devotion that has captured everything from my morning musings through to the most fervent ramblings of my heart. Commuting gems have been shared, plans have been made and connections forged and re-forged across London’s transport network and indeed, the world.

But today something has changed. There has been a shift. A letting go.

As happens so often in life, I was faced with relinquishing one thing in return for another.

So with heavy heart I approached, hoping I could still keep a part of the wonderfulness whilst opening myself up to something more. I pushed open the door, waited for my moment and uttered the words I had avoided saying for so long…

‘I need to upgrade my phone.’

A mere 40 minutes later, the job was done and my Desire had been replaced…

…by the One…

…and I’m in love all over again.

A Good Sort…

What is it about a glimmer of Spring-like weather that makes us want to sort…and not just have a little clean out but to sort obsessively, without forethought or preparation.

Spring is start to…well spring here in the UK and I have found myself in the midst of a sorting frenzy.  Everywhere I look there seems to be something to sort – shoes, clothes, books, papers, recipes, filing, kitchen cupboards, plants, projects – and I can be meandering through the day completely on schedule only to be subsumed into an ‘I’ve had enough/I need to sort this now’ fugue from which I emerge with a flush of virtuous ‘sorted’ satisfaction…only to be followed by an ‘oops that took longer than I thought and now I really need to crack on and do the things I was actually planning to do’ feeling of slightly, mild-ish panic.

Does this actually happen to anyone else (apart from me & J…he’s a sorter too but not a thrower-outer…which explains why we still live next door to each other!)

Do you think that there is a completely rational, scientific explanation for this seasonal bout of obsessiveness?  Or am I just Monica-Geller bonkers?

Maybe an intervention is in order….