It’s Tuesday, right? Damn…
There are days when I really, really don’t want to try to work out the myriad manipulations of the Fates, mostly because they are merciless bitches who want to break me – watch out for Atropos. She may seem like a nice goddess, but she has a mean streak wider than the Atlantic. She’ll take those shears of hers, and stick them in good, then twist them until she’s had her amusement. The past few weeks have moved so damn quickly that it’s taken me somewhat by surprise.
Somewhere along the line I thought that there would be a respite from the unrelenting irritations which no level of swatting will remove.
And yeah, anyone who says “I told you so” will get bitten.
This goes back to something I got told by an accounting student back when I was working in London – a much more financially-astute individual than I, and a really nice guy. He explained that the best way to stay ahead of any cash-intensive problems was to stash away 80% of the best year’s income I have ever made, working only with the money on top of that safety net. I’ve managed to skirt most problems without ever having had to touch that money… Until recently. Much as I dislike online banking (and the ugly presentation of the pages) it has, in this one, single instance proved to be not entirely pointless.
It’s churlish (and somewhat besides the point) to go into a rant about my bank here, but they screwed up. Massively. The automated alert I was meant to be issued never came through, and not only did I dip under that amount for the first time, I ate though a fair chunk of it before even knowing about the problem.
Don’t worry. I’ll deal with those assholes (in my own way) at some point in the near future. That’s not the point of this post. I’m getting to it…
With the realization that I was (hell, I still am) hemorrhaging money, the most logical act – for a mind clouded by insomnia, stress, exhaustion and time-constraints – seemed to be a double-pronged solution. The intention was to cut out all unnecessary expenditure, then do as much with the remaining money as possible. The biggest costs are still those surrounding the house and the apartment, so that was the focus of all my attention.
Now this is where things go all Rashomon – there’s a scurrilous rumor that I fainted (which I most emphatically did not), but I managed to tumble down the better part of the stairs, whatever the reason. There is a decent argument in there for the benefit of having carpeted stairs, though I’m not sure I know where to begin with that notion. It’s not as if I plan on falling down them any time soon, but just in case… Oh, and no, I don’t remember falling down the stairs. I have a theory that my mind has a switch it flips every time I have a “holyshitwhatdidIjustdo?” moment, so the immediate memory is dumped to the cache rather than secured in ROM. Or something.
Another omission is the actual level of pain a dislocated shoulder brings. Nobody bothered to fill me in on how sore it is. The depiction of this in films and television is really going to annoy me now…
Anyways, that was the start. This is probably my own damn fault for being so bloody-minded and refusing to take a step back from the stuff piling up around me. The bug I picked up on my way out of the hospital – a nasty critter which makes my insides want to be on the outside – is, all things considered, getting off light. I’ve heard enough stories about folks ending up with the flesh-eating bugs to make me wary of complaining too much. Just in case Atropos gets any clever ideas.
This has taken an age to write – much longer than it should have – and I am exhausted. I’ll get around to answering e-mails when I finally get back to being able to go longer than a few minutes without my stomach lurching – Now that it is clear the sweet, sweet, merciful release of death is beyond my reach, I’ll grin and bear Clotho’s tapestry of torment.
I’m not even going to think about what is happening at work.