Serious warning: night of the long whinge

[smokingboot]

No, it's not good. Ralik brought in his first kill of the year, a butterfly. Surya brought hers in days ago, a wee mouse. I object to the mouse less than the butterfly, because lets face it, meeces are cute but very dirty. Butterflies, on the other hand, are just lovely. I know it's just nature, but I felt sad and weary to see it dead.

What of today? Well, due to a shifts cock-up, I am in danger of offending everybody and missing a very important night. I have juggled and talked and wheedled and the scheduler will come back to me hopefully tomorrow with a replacement plan. He is sanguine we can work something out, I am afraid he will give me a show worth less cash and therefore paying less. But never mind. I just want this out of the way.


Family. Luvverly. My extra-planar mother has sent me word that she wants me to 'empty her flat' because she is not coming back to England. Marvellous. Empty her flat eh? And how am I to do that? Shall I put all her extensive furniture in storage until the if and when of her return, and just pay out indefinitely from my Swiss bank account funded by my gangster lover in the vatican? Or shall I go back to basics and a bleedin' shovel?

'Just do it please,' her note says. What a wonderful world she lives in, where one speaks and it just happens. It's like being the queen without the crowds. And just how do I afford said miracle of removal, I wonder? But let's not bother her with sordid matters of coin. It will only occur to her to worry on her return when there's no flat. No flat! Poor homeless thing. She'll just have to stay with me then. Last time she did that she followed my [then] lover all over the house claiming he was kissing invisible friends. Super.

The great things about families is that even when they stop, they carry on. However insane I consider the idea, to get her flat ready for clearance, I must have the keys, so I phoned up mon frere who now abides in Belgium. She says the spare keys are in his house in Lewisham. He says he doesn't know, I can talk to his old lover/lodger about it, the guy who cleaned up the house after the last coked-up orgiasts to lodge there, so he may know. Or the keys may have disapeared. Christ.



But of course there is more. Littlebro has been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome/Higher Functioning Autism/Geeks Disease. I don't get what this means but OK; I thought we had agreed that being born to our parents was equivalent to pre-natal psychosis or an anal probe by aliens anyway. I must take this more seriously than is my wont; Bro is at least respecting family tradition by having some addiction or brain malfunction that makes life more interesting for the neighbours. And now he has proven his blood by making the superlatively epsilonic move of giving my father the info he has been nagging after for years; my mother's address. Jesus again, no wait. Let me think;

Jee.
Sus.

See the difference it makes when you consider these things calmly?


'He's changed' weebles littlebro, 'He won't cause trouble. I can feel it.'
Really? Well, the grand news is we shall know soon enough if he's wrong. And how would someone with Asperger's Syndrome know anyway? Isn't this the illness where you can't read faces and motives? If you realise that and you find yourself faced by one of Asmodeus' favourite nephews, why not just shut up?

Oh, I don't mean it, Dad's not a fiend he's just not a very nice man. I'm sorry bro's been through so much and Mum too but still...tell you what would be cool.

I want just now to be little and lost enough to bury my head against someone's chest, and listen to gentle words and a strong heartbeat, and forget Maelstrom at the weekend, forget shifts and shows and dates and times, forget everything except dark and candlelight and maybe some music and a kiss or two. I don't feel sorry, don't need to cry. But I know I could write later, sleep perhaps, if I just stop for a while and feel cherished and empty.

Gah! Enough. I know what's wrong with me. I'm tired.

Comments

Poor you!

[november-girl.livejournal.com]

Work out what you can affect and what you can't - then stop worrying about the latter.

Tell your mother that unless she gives you another option you will just sell all her things (or all the ones you don't want, anyway). If necessary speak to house clearance people and send them round. Alternatively, could you move into her flat whilst you're in London? It is in London, isn't it?

Finally, and most importantly - get some sleep.

Re: Poor you!

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Ever so odd this - I've sent you two comments and nothing is showing!

Very good advice as always, so thank you:-) Yes, her flat is in London but it is owned by a Housing Association who, I presume, will want to give it to some other deserving pensioner ( than her I mean, not me!)

Aha!

[thalinoviel.livejournal.com]

In which case, talk to the Housing Association, tell them what she told you. They probably have the keys and will no doubt have all the contacts required to clear the place and spruce it up for the next tenant.

Re: Aha!

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

You, my dear, are Jayneous. I hadn't thought of that at all, obvious as it may seem to bright sparks like you. This would be a great way out, thanks!

[nyarbaggytep.livejournal.com]

Urgh. Sounds horrid.
Dr Baggy prescribes a hot bath with plenty of candles, nice smells, preferably relaxing ones, a good book, a glass of wine or g&t and a box of delicious chocs. All at once.

Thank you Dr Baggy

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

An efficacious prescription!

G&T and bath now applied, and marked improvements already evident. The rest of cure next to follow:-)

Re: Thank you Dr Baggy

[nyarbaggytep.livejournal.com]

Trrrrrrrrrust Dr Baggy.
Obey Dr Baggy.
Dr Baggy is your friend...

;)

[colonel-maxim.livejournal.com]

Big hugs. The transatlantic visitors are only around on Saturday and Sunday night so, if you need a place to stay or merely a place to chill, we are, as ever, available.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Thank you, as ever you are most kind.

I feel much better this morning:-)

[falco-biarmicus.livejournal.com]

*HUG*

Not sure my chest is big enough for anyone to bury themselves in it - but you are welcome to have a go! Failing that, I can offer an ear, company, and probably enough random waffling to distract you for a while. I shall come armed with something nice of the liquid variety and attempt to steal you off for some quiet time under the light of the beautiful spring moon.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Thank you, I don't need the chest any more; but the company and liquid refreshment under a spring moon sounds absolutely perfect:-)

[hybridartifacts.livejournal.com]

Family

*sigh*

Parents spend a chunk of your life looking after you (however well or badly)-and then you discover its usually badly and later end up running looking after them instead.

*hug*

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

Thank you for that hug:-)

If my entry into this world wasn't an honest-to-goodness accident, I'd suspect their motives would have been to have me there as some kind of insurance for old age. As it is, they have both been very difficult, and though I'm sure there's worse out there, I am keeping sentiment (and running around) to a minimum. When it comes to family, I'm with Philip Larkin.

[hybridartifacts.livejournal.com]

Families are strange things.
Suzette is complaining that her family never realise how much she misses things from Canada, and that while she sees her friends on LJ living in other countries getting 'care packages' from home, she has to almost beg her family for anything.
While my family is either so busy you have to make appointments months ahead to see them, or they just dont care to get together and spend time with each other now my mum is dead (she was the organiser of all family life it seems).

So we have Easter with Suzette's family in Canada having a big family get-together that makes her feel homesick, and mine are doing nothing because my Dad, who lives 15 min walk away, doesn't think of it and would probably just suggest whatever is the least hassle for him (yet another quick lunch out at the pub), and my brother and his wife live in Manchester (too far away for anything that doesn't involve staying over) and are too busy to do anything anyway -especially at Easter since they both work for the church.

[smokingboot.livejournal.com]

TBH, I am very grateful we have no organiser of get togethers! The greatest lesson I have had to learn is that sperm and egg do not a family make. It's no-one's fault if they won't or can't give what's needed. The constructive lesson from that is that eventually one doesn't need.

I have found a freedom and a strength in that. But it's exasperating when they act like idiots!