The Money or the Curb!

My life used to be kind of relaxed.  I’d get home, runner up, go for a walk then come home, pour a glass of red and put music on while I cooked.  Then I started dating the squeeze and there seemed to be a moratorium on ‘relax time’. 

These days, I am basically kicking in the front door and biting the top off a bottle of red…

I am swinging from one side of town to the other and the weekends I spend in clean freak hell, ensures I will be working every night to catch up.  Partly this is due to my not being there to do the things I would normally have done, like the Saturday morning housework fest.  But partly this is due to the girl who doesn’t seem to understand the concept of “have as many friends as you want over – when you move out to your own place!”  In other words I get home to every towel in the house is in the wash, the floors are dirty and then there is the minor problem in that my table gets scratched or the walls and doors have dirty hand prints on them; not to mention the greasy fingerprints on my stainless steel fridge – I ask you; how freaking hard is it to use the damned handle!!!!!

So as you can see, things are already stressed.  Then I add to the mix the fact that work has gone through restructure (again) - the idiots at the top still don’t see the reality of “you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear…”  In other words, try funding the department so we can do what we are good at and stop restructuring.  Stop figuring tasks are not done because we are slack and therefore there is a requirement to bring in idiots, make them managers at which point we are forced to sit and listen to their nonsensical ideas.

Ideas, that if even remotely positive, are in fact regurgitated ideas and templates that we did years ago!  Difficult, because I’m seriously inept in covering up my look of “you moron…” so am obviously seen as a rebel.

We are house hunting at the moment and even that causes a minor ripple of stress.  I have to very carefully balance the requirements – I want room to move, but not so much room that suddenly I’m coming home to find Mess 1 and Mess 2 (with nose ring) have moved in!  The squeeze wouldn’t quite understand that but hey, we are a new romance – we are entitled to a little bit of time on our own – kid free!  Where we can do stuff together instead of being at everyone else’s beck and call…  Have sex in the kitchen!

Aside from anything else, by moving he’ll save money.  If he’s not at home they won’t ring or come home with the great idea that they all go out for breakfast or coffee – and not take their wallets!  And the idiot that I date, even knowing he is broke; wouldn’t think of saying “cool, your shout.”  Hell, I’m tipping by the end of the week I’ll wig out (again) because he still hasn’t kicked the harridan off his health insurance!

Why did the Moodle Circus have to roll into my town!??