The Spanish Inquisition

The Squeeze’s bout of ‘manning up’ over the tent has been interesting to watch, in a “why can’t he just bitch slap that cow off a chair” kind of way.

Personally, I don’t see the difficulty in standing up for myself.  I have said previously (on several occasions), if a friend had grabbed the tent from Kid 1 and then refused to give it back; not only refusing to give it back, but lying about it and sending you off on wild goose chases to the school to retrieve it; and then instructing your kids to lie about it – would you stand for that?”  The answer is of course, no; he wouldn’t.

And he has stood his ground, at least to the point where he has told the Harridan “okay; if you want the tent so badly, it’s yours.  Except you are paying for it and I will be deducting what I consider is a fair price, out of maintenance.” (Good move, of course the price was far from fair)  And let’s face it, it has taken a year to get to that place in time.

Of course I can almost guarantee that she wouldn’t conceive of the idea that he would actually do it.  He got no reply to his communiqué re “withholding funds”.  He never gets a reply when it is something that she doesn’t like.  In short, I picture her sitting on the floor, hands over her ears singing “la la la” loudly in an attempt to drown out the words.  She has this nifty knack of only hearing what she wants to hear; possibly part of her madness.

So I have enjoyed watching him acquire a bit of mettle about him although I’ve seen bravado on previous threats wilt in the wind; so I’m not celebrating just yet.

And I am watchful.  It’s not enough to withhold the funds for a week or two and then slink back into net banking and transfer the rest of the funds to her like a cowardly lion (if I only had a heart…)  Watchful because I always knew that she couldn’t leave it there…  Not a chance; how dare he grow a spine! 

So last night, I ask “did you hear from the Harridan?”

I’m not sure why I have to ask frankly.  It has been the topic of scores of conversations between us; he knows damned well I’m waiting to see just what will happen and what the threat will be this time.  But no; his preference is to make me feel like I’m a member of the Spanish Inquisition – so I have to drag it out of him, one bloody word at a time.

Yes.  She had called yesterday to tell him he needed to pay the rest of the maintenance, because that is completely separate to the tent and he can’t do that.  He replied with mentioning the fact that he had told her that would be the price of the tent and it is done and over with.  (What a pity she doesn’t call when I’m there because I’d have loved to have heard that conversation.)

Then she starts the “you can’t do that; if you don’t pay I’ll have to take action”.  I can’t resist putting in “pity you didn’t tell her that if I had of had my way, I’d have called the police and reported it stolen” – which is after all, exactly what it was, stolen.

Then it is “just pay it and we’ll discuss the tent when I get home.”  Yeah, why don’t we try that?  Ummm what the hell does she think all of those conversations re the tent up until this point have been about?

As for the threats..  Yeah, go for it.  Please go for it.  I’m tipping if she starts “action” she will find herself far from better off; especially when the tax department start going through her records only to discover that her earnings are much higher than reported due to the rent she receives.

As for the Moodle, I will have to keep my eye on him to make sure he sticks to his guns…

Homeless Guy

A homeless guy has moved into my house.

I came home tonight and this is what was beside my bed on the Squeeze’s side.  I’m guilty in that it has been building and I haven't stabbed him; but Hell!!!!  It’s starting to look like ‘clean freak hell’.

This was not supposed to have happened… 
My house was not supposed to become his...

Why Am I Here?

Last week I was as happy as Larry.  This week, I’m struggling. 

Every so often I hit a wall at work and wonder what the hell I’m doing here.  It’s not like I can actually change anything; I have the bruises on my forehead from the number of times of banged my head on a wall in frustration.  Guess I just have to accept that it’s government and without doubt, morons are promoted more often than the rest of us; probably to promote them out of one area and make them someone else’s problem.

Then we have the Moodle syndrome… Whenever I think the nut doctor made some sort of headway into getting him to understand that the Harridan is now the ex Mrs. Harridan, he scurries back to ground zero.

Last night she called (several times) to rant and rave and order the Squeeze to jump to attention over Kid 2 and his girlfriend.  They flew in to Melbourne from Perth and the Squeeze was to pick them up.  He had asked each of them several times for flight details to no avail so it was guess work via the Tullamarine airport site on what was landing around the supposed time.  When push came to shove, I seriously doubt anyone is going to steal them off the street, but she has to do her nutcase thing I guess.  After all, why not stick with what you are good at?

But the Squeeze just doesn’t seem to be able to get it through is fat head that he no longer has to jump through hoops of fire, little Moodle curls bobbing in the wind… Harridan standing back with poisonous darts to pitch at his head as he runs…  He can actually just bark into the phone “why are you calling me about this?  I’ve organised it; if you can do better, you organise it!”

But no; he couldn’t do that.  Instead, Moodle mantle comes out of the wardrobe and a whole world of mauve velvet whips around his body.  Idiot.

The Golden Oldies

I’m at work today; this isn’t quite as bad as it sounds, given that the rest of the world is off some place having lunch and swilling champagne. 

Why?  Well it’s blissfully quiet other than the golden oldies playing on the radio behind me.  So I’ve floated back to the 80’s at least three times in the last hour.

Every man and his dog take the three days between Christmas and New Year off.  Not me.  Taking holidays seems like a waste of leave to me, given the almost perfect environment I’m sitting in at the moment.  So far, the phone hasn’t rung once; I’ve received no real email and have had only the briefest of discussions regarding an application for the Women’s and Children’s program with my boss; after which, she pointed out that since there isn’t much on, I may as well go home after lunch.

I don’t have to be told twice – so now I am counting down the minutes until I can leave.  It has to be well timed so that I appear conscientious enough to linger after being told I can go; as opposed to just shutting down and running out the door, pausing to shout ‘yeehah’ on my way out.  

Other than checking email and the brief ‘work’ discussion, I’ve managed to talk about Christmas and then discussed concert tickets with the IT director.  We agreed that the death of royalties appears to be affecting the cost of seeing a decent band these days.  Technology is killing my world.

Then being in a Golden Oldie mood, I searched out a You Tube clip of the Rolling Stones singing Sister Morphine (in fact, I prefer Marianne Faithfull’s version [listen to it here]) and posted it to my nephew’s Facebook.  He is bored in hospital with a dicky heart and a stressed out wife.  The only highlight of his day, has been the morphine injection…

The up side of being in front of a computer for these three days is that I should have time to attend to stuff that continues to get left behind because I’ve been too busy; but who am I kidding..?

One thing I’ll say – it’s nice and quiet with the Squeeze’s kids and Harridan on the other side of the country.  Although it would be my preference for her to suddenly decide she intends to live there (and I wouldn’t put anything past her); the Squeeze would have to go to war because he actually likes to see them.

Either way, he is going to have to do something about the school report that was marred by comments regarding a lack of organisational skills (gee, wonder where the poor kid gets that from?) and bemoaning that the kid is late every day.  Not sure how the hell that works when she works there; I’m surprised they haven’t given her a swift kick. 

And now unfortunately, the kid will have to do it all again at the next “new” school in her quest for finding a muso/artist in the family.  Sigh.

Camping

Today the Squeeze dug through the garage to find the tent pegs and poles that he borrowed from friends last year.  He found both, albeit with more rust than they came with I suspect, but he couldn’t find any ropes.  I did pause to mention that the ropes are probably hidden at the Harridan’s with the tent that she is now the proud owner of.

I don’t get the lack of concern he displays over taking borrowed things, back.  I have to say I’m discovering that maybe I’m a weirdo when it comes to looking after other people’s junk, but hey, I have a list of people that I refuse to lend things to – including his kids (with damned good reason!)  Instead, they don’t berate him or warn him that he is now on the “no lend” list…  So he probably still doesn’t get it!

Of course the resurrection of the tent poles evoked ‘tent memory’ and that opened up a whole other kettle of fish.  Let’s face it…   If he had a list of people he refused to lend things to; we’d still have a tent and the Harridan would have probably have had to purchase her own in the usual manner.  Instead, she took it from Kid 1 and when all is said and done, who can blame him?  It would be so much easier to deal with the wrath of Squeeze (to be honest, I doubt he was yelled at for it at all) than dealing with the Harridan not getting her own way; for she is on the hairline trigger of madness.

Instead, the Squeeze withheld $250 from her this month.   Payment for the tent that she felt was within her rights to steal and then refuse to give back; even though he bought it well after they had separated.  Personally, I’d have purchased a similar tent and then charged her that amount.  At $250 – she got off lightly.  Still, $250 is enough to let her know that he isn’t just a lone scardy cat anymore (and I’m tipping I can be even scarier than her if pushed), and it is still enough to allow me to raise my eyebrow which in code means “I told you she wouldn’t give it back you moron; and I don’t care if she needs a kidney – she gets nothing from us”.

I was expecting that he would hear about it and I wasn’t disappointed. 

Although the argument over the tent has gone on for a year now and as a final straw, he has told her several times that he would be taking payment for the tent if not returned; we all know that she only hears the words she wants to hear and ignores the rest.  He received an email Christmas eve that said:  “Pay me correct amount” (in her usual caveman 'UGGG - wot u do' style communique) 

To which he replied with “That's it.  You owed me $250 for the tent.”

I’m sure we will not have heard the last of it.

The Damned Mandolin

My musical genius is about three seconds away from having the mandolin I bought him for his birthday, snatched off him and broken across the back of his skull.  Why did I buy it for him?

Oh wait, now he has put the mandolin down and picked up a guitar…  Now this is just so much better.  When I bought the mandolin, I was thinking “Heart” type tunes flowing out of it.  Not so.  He hasn’t mastered it as yet.

Today is our last day off prior to going back to work.  I’ll be happy if I don’t actually get dressed for the day and instead, just slink in and out of bed to read; so there is no point in actually getting dressed.

Merry Christmas World

We are having Christmas dinner as opposed to lunch this year.  All are set to descend at 6.30pm and I don't believe there is much else I can do now until I have to put the mammoth pig leg on the webber outside; and that isn't until about 1pm.

The Squeeze and I both had additional gifts for under the tree seeing as how the concert tickets were purchased together last week; however, neither arrived in time.  I bought him a Jack Kerouac t-shirt that says “I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion” – which I sounds like him.  I think he got me a Sons of Anarchy t-shirt that I can wear with my pj’s.

Of course this year, as a first, I left it at that.  I figured the tickets to Ryan Adam’s (and the romance that goes with that) and the t-shirts that never actually arrived on the day are a pretty good score – for both of us.

Then, out of the blue, Mr Romance (said without sarcasm for once in my life) whips out a Chanel bag this morning and there it is.  My favourite perfume, Coco Chanel; wrapped so perfectly that I’m loath to open it, complete with stiff gold paper, black Chanel ribbon and then slipped into the Chanel bag.

Tonight, some of my family and some of his descend on us in an attempt to devour half a pig (only a leg in reality, but at 7.3 kilo’s I’d hate to see how big the damned thing was whole).  My daughter is having a late lunch so probably won’t eat which means we will be balancing out to just under a kilo of pork each.  Looks like I over catered again…  Oh well.

Sometimes I get to pause, and think to myself rather smugly that my life is pretty near perfect.  I’m happy.  The Squeeze is happy.  Mostly, my children are happy.  Mostly, the Squeeze’s kids are happy.  I don’t think you can ask for much more than that really.

Merry Christmas World.

Starving

Never let it be said that anyone will starve at my place for dinner.   Yesterday, the Squeeze and I finished work early and went off to do our Christmas meal shopping. 

The fridge is packed tight and stacked Tetris style; so every time I take something out, I’m worried the rest will tumble.  There is champagne and beer; vegies, desserts, cream and a 7.3 kilo leg of pork.

Hmmm that could be a tad excessive, especially given that there are only nine or ten of us, but it will look bloody good!  Last year, I did the pork using a Jamie Oliver recipe.  You remove the crackling and pour lemon/lime marmalade over it, then sprinkle it with red/green chilli, coriander and lemon and lime wedges.   It looked good enough to elicit a gasp from people when I bought it out last year and it tasted better than it looked.

So I’m doing the same thing this year and given that this time I am cooking dinner as opposed to lunch; I’d better stay away from the champagne until well into the afternoon!

A Christmas Tree

Well finally; the damned tree is up and decorated.   Although I’ll admit that I love the smell of it when I walk into the house; the pine needles that float everywhere leave a lot to be desired.  I have had the vacuum cleaner out three times already; not that it does any good.

Worst part about the tree is that it doesn’t look like a Christmas tree should look.  There aren’t dozens of brightly wrapped presents… glittering in the fairy lights; bows spilling curls to the floor.  Trouble with older kids is that they usually just money; and so the gifts under the tree diminish with the little people under foot.   Sensible if you think on it, because they get the money early, then I can’t bear the thought that they get nothing Christmas day, so they get a gift anyhow.

At least I will see all of my children over the Christmas period.  My oldest and his girl are having dinner with us in the city on Christmas Eve and then we are going to look at the Myer Christmas windows.  My daughter and her partner, and my youngest son and his partner are coming to Christmas dinner on Sunday night.  We will also have the Squeeze’s mother and also, his nephew and his adopted mother.  One could say it is an eclectic mix at the dinner table.

The Squeeze’s kids are in Perth with the Harridan so there are no presents under the tree for them either.  It’s all a bit barren really.

As for us..?  Well we decided to buy each other a ticket to see Ryan Adams when he is in Melbourne during March.  The Squeeze, in one of his romantic moments (and believe me, they are rare) once sent me a song of his.

It was for my birthday one year.  We had broken up and the song arrived out of the blue…  And I loved it.

Ryan Adams - Come Pick Me Up

and I love this one:  Wonder Wall

I’m Nearly Finished My Book

When I got home last night, I had a whole list of things I wanted to get done.  Go and get a Christmas tree; decorate it.  Finish unpacking, which meant I’d have a pile of holiday washing and folding. Get dinner, pausing to remember that we have spent four days away doing nothing except eating and drinking.  In short, we are regular rolly pollies.

What did we get done?  Well we did manage to get the Christmas tree although it sits unadorned in the lounge room.  I did most of the unpacking and putting away although there is still half a suitcase to be sorted.  I did two loads of washing, but that will have to come in tonight and be ironed.

I got momentarily sidetracked as my brother sent me a photo of the Squeeze carrying a handbag he had taken on the weekend with the subject line of “he he”.  At least the Squeeze took all the ribbing he received in good spirits which meant the family liked him; but it still meant I had to find a retaliation pic – and there were millions to choose from. 

Hell, problem then was that I spent about 2 hours going through photos, cropping and fixing prior to uploading them on Facebook so that the family could have a laugh.  And there were funny/hideous ones of us all.

Before I knew it I looked up and it was eleven and the Squeeze was turning out lights and heading for bed.  I hadn’t even managed my second shower for the day!  Walking into the bedroom I paused to ask “are we having sex tonight?”  If so, that would mean I’d take the time to run with shower number two.  Instead, he looks at me and says “no way; I’m nearly finished my book!”

I think he has forgotten what it was like when he was on rations!

Student Exit Form

The Squeeze got his “student exit” form today from the Catholic Secondary College the kid goes to.  I wanted him to write quite honestly “no idea; I still haven’t been told about it...” but I suspect he won’t.

Still, it would give the school a pretty good insight into what a psychotic cow their art teacher is.

Packing

Today is all about packing for Adelaide and our river boat thing with my family.  In fact I’ve been organising for 3 days now, sorting into piles and checking off lists.  He would be happy to grab a shopping bag tomorrow morning and throw a couple of t-shirts and some boxers in there.

I’ve got to hand it to the Squeeze though.  A non-drinker embarking on a trip with my family; we are people who would be fine having champagne with our breakfast; and have done plenty of times in the past.  And then we would take it all the way through to putting down the river in the top deck hot tub singing like drunken cats.

Firstly, it will be nice to get away.  Secondly, it will be nice to be kid free.  His kids are off to Perth with the Harridan, so we are free there for a while.  I won’t see mine until Christmas day.  Sigh.  That is just a sigh of relief…

Last night, he mentioned that the kid gave him a list of what he would like for Christmas.  Included on this was a WII.  Yeah, just what that kid needs.  More technology!

Meanwhile, my juice diet has left me 3 kilo lighter; and now I’m going on the floating fat farm.  We all cook; we all cook well.  I’m probably going to die of obesity.  Just my Greek breakfast, which has me here downloading music for it, would kill a small farm animal with the cholesterol.

I’ll be blog free until I return…

Clean Up Time

I awoke to a messy, but silent house this morning.  The worst part was that I along with the serenity, I also felt a measure of guilt; because I’m pretty sure that the Squeeze had a lot of running around to do this morning, whizzing across to the other side of town to drop Kid 3 off at Kid 1’s – which meant that he got to work late.

I hunted for the speech I wrote for my Dad’s 80^th birthday which we are flying off for on Thursday, only to discover that I backed up everything on the planet, except the speech.  Which meant I had to sit and re-rewrite and I couldn’t remember all that I had written before, but knew there were some damned funny lines in there.

Still, with the writing I felt even guiltier, because while travelling down memory lane, I remembered just how much it sucked to be a teenager.  Guess I just have to suck up the “testing of boundaries” and technology and hope that he turns into a human sooner rather than later!

Encroaching!!!!!

This morning the Squeeze rolls over to inform me that we have Kid 3 tonight.  This is done after sex of course.  For a fleeting moment, I figure I can deal with another night of non-stop television and belligerence since he will be dropping him off at school while I sleep in on the first day of my holiday; I was quickly dissuaded of that idea.

School is out.  Go figure.  I miss those things now that my children are adults.  Apparently the Kid has a sax lesson tomorrow and it’s over this way.   Now we all know that the Harridan wouldn’t drag her arse out to the car to drive the kid over for the lesson; even if she did organise it.  Far easier to put everyone else out; organise for him to stay here and then summon Kid 1 to pick him up and take him to his lesson at 11am.

Ummm.  Over my dead body!  Not on my damned holiday time.  I can only do so much.  Hell, tomorrow is my time and I have a heap of things planned like waxing and stuff!  It’s not like I don’t get it.  I do.  I love my kids too and would kill or die for them without thought (well maybe a moment’s thought.)  But that didn’t stop me demanding a little respect for both myself and when it all comes down to it - them.

I mean how hard it is to teach them the basic things in life like manners…  Hygiene…  Looking after someone else’s property?   It is quite obvious that he is not taught any of those things in velvet land and the Squeeze is struggling as he acclimatizes to my way of living.  This morning I heard him say “pick that up and take it out before you get killed!” – But who the hell lies in bed watching television eating an apple and then tosses the apple core on the floor?  Really?  Who the hell does that?

And in reality, he is a nice kid, he just hasn’t been shown the correct way to act.  I swear.  Hell yeah.  My children do – but they are adults.  Hearing a fourteen your old tell his father to F off when he yells “what’s wrong?” because the kid has a cramp and is shouting his head off just doesn’t sound right.  Guess they missed that whole soap; mouth; wash act.

You combine that with the demands; the thought that he controls what we watch; just says “no” if asked to do something and the pièce de résistance – mummy calling up friends to make a play date for him, then it is no wonder that the whole weekend, his mobile has sat silent.

On the up side, my daughter who has newly moved in with her boyfriend who I didn’t approve of but had to suck it up; didn’t last a month there.  They had a wrestle around the lounge and he is in the process of moving out.  I didn’t breed any shrinking violets at least and he is the one that walked away with a broken thumb.  Still; when violence enters a relationship, it is done and dusted – because it’s all downhill from there.

Personally, I think he needs to meet someone who isn’t cowered by him.  Me and my Louisville slugger.

That Was Quick

I’m on a juice diet.  A guy at work sent me a link to this thing called “fat, sick and almost dead”.  I guess I should have been insulted but hey, reality is that the Squeeze living here, has turned me into a barn.  I know… I know… He doesn’t  hold me down and pour food down my throat, but I like to cook; eat; drink.  The why doesn’t matter; all that matters is that we are too fat to fit into any of our clothes.

So I’m on a juice diet.  Kid 3 is here and obviously he can have juice for dinner.  It doesn’t matter that it is 10 vegetables in there, made by me; the Harridan would be screaming.  So the Squeeze got another night off (don’t think he has had one on as yet) and I made him go out to eat.  Hey, I’m pretty good when I set my mind to it, but I’m not sitting here drinking juice while they are feeding their heads off on pizza.

So off they go, after about fifteen reminders to take the antibiotics – not that it matters really.  They are the ones he had last time that he didn’t take.  When his foot turns gangrenous and is lopped off, I’ll remind him that antibiotics are the evil thing that could have saved his foot.  Damned velvet wearers!

Anyhow, they squeak off for dinner and I get in a couple of games of scrabble online, one tweet reply and start thinking about what to write and then they get back!  Do I get no peace?  At least I can’t smell the pizza…

My day off is tomorrow.  We are doing Christmas dinner early and I’m not going to be swilling juice while a Mexican lamb roast is cooking!

Laziest Person on the Planet

It’s now official.  I am living with the laziest man on the planet; possibly the universe.  Trust me; I know… I’ve got ex-husbands.  Lazy one too.  But they were nothing like this.  I can now see why “clean freak hell” was clean freaking hell.  And it wasn't just the kids.

The Squeeze literally drops things where he is standing.  Just decides “don’t need this now” and drops it.   It is astounding!  Today we had stuff all over the table; my desk looks like hades; pair of boots haphazardly tossed in the spare bedroom.  Boots and socks in the lounge.  Newspapers; books; dvd’s; stuff… more stuff… and more!  It’s everywhere!  And I’m exhausted!  If he keeps it up, he will be living in the fricking garage.  He can knock himself out making a mess out there.

Aside from my issues with his sloppiness, the week has been a non-event.  I’ve been too busy at work to breath, let alone blog… I haven't even had time to think of what to blog about.  When I get home it’s to try to do work and keep the Squeeze focused – a difficult task on any day. 

Last night we came home and had dinner (vegetable juice – oh the joy… I’m fast getting over detox) and then we went walking.  We get in the door and I have to head him off at the pass as he is running for the television.  Instead, I suggest he spend the 15 minutes required to finish his tax.  Three times I got up from my work and went to the study door, only to find him surfing You Tube!  I’m still not sure if he actually completed it.

We were to have kid 3 on Wednesday but that didn’t eventuate due to the 'broken' toe that of course, wasn't a broken toe - even after the third doctor saw it.  Weird, she usually finds one to back her up.  Still, this is fine by me.  If she wants to give up going out every time the kid gets a runny nose, that’s her choice.  I can even handle the inference that we are morons that couldn’t be trusted to look after a toe.

Then the Squeeze informs me that we are on again this weekend.  WTF??  This is a repeated two fold hell.  1.  I like the kid, but hey; I was smart enough to have mine and stop when I was an old fart (something this pair of morons would have benefited from).  In other words, I like my kid free life and don’t want every weekend consumed with kidly stuff.  Hell, if she ever decides it’s time for the kid to live with Dad, well I’ll be helping him pack and house hunt.

2.  This kid is nearly fifteen.  He has no friends and spends at least every second weekend with us.  There are no calls or texts.  No sleep overs.  Nothing.  I find this odd and have no idea how, but think it needs to be addressed.  That isn't even thinking about the fact that he is totally consumed with technology from the minute he gets in the door.

Besides, the toe is infected again and I won’t be able to refrain from mentioning the fact that it is now well over one year and this stupid ingrown toe could have been fixed after one week and a course of antibiotics; and maybe a dose of hygiene.

The Good Old Days

I am longing for the good old days when I actually had a spare second to myself over the course of a day.

Work was kind of easy; I could organise things and shoot of communique and still have time to go for coffee and read the paper.  Not lately.  Now I’m running around like a headless chook… Going in early for meetings – early!  And I’m shaking my head and wondering how it all changed so quickly!

Home time is made up of more work because I’m trying to get a business up with a friend of mine; but dotted in and around this, is bouts of housework and television.  Both of these things have greatly affected my ability to blog; which I find is kind of like losing a part of myself.

Television has become the bane of my life.  Once upon a time, before the Squeeze moved in and my life went to hell in a hand basket; I didn’t watch much television.  Now, it’s on from the minute I walk in the door (he beats me home.)  Enough I say!  Last night the Squeeze went off to the spare room to watch with headphones on while I worked.

Tonight, he is off to dinner with Kid 2.  Kid 3 was on the list to be babysat tonight but injured his toe at cricket the other day.  As the world would know by now, the Squeeze and I are incapable of looking after a kid with a sore toe (strange that mine are all still alive…), however, this meant that the Harridan had to cancel her night out and stay at home to play martyr (which I suspect is far more satisfying for her).

I will work.

I suspect the “kid out for dinner” is in regards to the fact that we have watched television and basically eaten ourselves to death.  While moving stuff around or just plain working, some of the cooking has fallen to him and it is always calorie laden pasta dishes that are yummy but make you have to rock backwards and forwards a little to get off your chair.  So I have activated drastic measures of being on a juice diet.  A guy I work with sent me the link to “Fat, Sick and Nearly Dead” or something similar and I figured yes, that’s what my system needs – a re boot.  I’m at day 1 and feel okay but can see that by day three, I’ll be sick to death of it.  Anyhow, worth a shot!

So the Squeeze will be off to the nut doctor learning how to “say no” and I’ll be off walking.  Then he’ll be off having pasta for dinner while I have vegetable juice.  Then I’ll work, he’ll come home and watch television.

Then we’ll go to bed and I’ll get to feel a tiny bit superior…  I like it!

Backup - What's the Damned Point?

Yesterday, the Squeeze and I cleaned out the garage.  It was hard work but today - it’s a thing of beauty.  We are not where I intend it to be yet, but it is getting closer; you could actually swing a cat in there if we had one.  We spent the afternoon lugging boxes, sweating and sweeping – which meant sneezing out the dust; eventually I gave up and just vacuumed the damned thing.

No help from kid 3.  Kids are decidedly lazy these days.  Maybe they always were and I just forgot.   In fact I noticed that Kid 3 was migrating into the “hostile” land of “teenager”.  He has arrived at that time when they think it is fine to say “no” if asked to do something.  This ought to be interesting; because the Squeeze and I are at opposite ends of the parenting universe, which means he’ll ignore the cheek and I’ll bite my tongue.  There is hope, as long as there is a flat screen with surround in the spare bedroom and a computer hooked to the net, then we hardly see him.  I can’t help but think how unhealthy a weekend with a remote glued to your hand is, but I suppose it can be weighed against the weeks of zip technology he gets at home.

 After the garage, I showered off about thirteen layers of grime and got dressed to go out for dinner with friends of the Squeeze.  Usually, I find this difficult.  I still do; mostly, given that there was no ‘separation’; but I am at relative ease with the couple who were having the dinner and even the old “velvet land” friend that I met for the first time didn’t make me feel as though I had 2 heads, so that was fine too.

Today I’ve spent all day on my laptop.  All.  Day.  It is now 5.36pm and I’m still in my pj’s.

I have been attempting to get some semblance of order on my laptop – to no avail.  I had to get remote assistance from Norton’s because the “restore from backup” sure as hell didn’t work the five times I tried it.  Now..?  Well I got some of it back but there is some sort of weird default user so stuff is going between the two of us.  In the end, I decided that if I had to spend another second sorting it out, I’d seriously start having a tantrum – so I basically left it half done and began designing a website.  This proved about as frustrating as the damned laptop!

The Squeeze has done his standard ‘back to Velvet Land’ to take the kid back.  Things are a little easier these days when he comes home from Velvet Land.  I’m not sure if that means I’m no longer concerned that his testicles live elsewhere, or if it means he is actually sticking up for himself.  In the end, they are his testicles.

Still; even with my new found “tolerance”; the reality is that if it affects me, he sure as hell better deal with it.  It’s just that sometimes the line between what affects me and what affects him, becomes muzzy…

I find it totally offensive that the Harridan would change schools without any discussion or consultation with the Squeeze; but he has to deal with it.  For my mind, I don’t care what school he goes to.  If a kid is going to make it, they will; no matter what school you send them to.   The new school can have the greatest music program on the planet – but I’m not seeing the kid destined for stardom.  He isn’t committed.  He isn’t like Kid 1 who used to drive me mad practising the damned piano until I wanted to storm in there and slam the damned lid shut on his fingers….

No; he isn’t like Kid 1 (thank god) I could count the times I’ve seen him practise over the last two years – on one hand.

So sure, change schools… Again.  But don’t whine that he has no friends, because three schools in three years means no stability in the friend market I’m afraid.  And don’t browbeat the kids to lie about it; like it is some huge conspiracy theory – because it’s not like the Squeeze won’t notice that he changed schools (because she will sure as hell give him the bill); just like he was going to realise at some stage, that they moved house – even if they all lied about it.

So while taking the kid home, the Squeeze was supposed to address the fact that organising things behind his back and instruct the kids to lie about it was out.  He was also going to do a reminder that rather than stealing his tent, she had in fact purchased it.  Plan away, but plan with $250 less than she would otherwise have planned for Christmas.

Will he do any of that..?  Probably not.  Will he ensure he sticks to what he has said..?  Not sure.  Will he do what he is told and then lie to me about it?  I don’t think so; I’ve already told him the next lie is the last lie in my world.

Sticking Up for Yourself!

When I was young, I’d rather have been eaten alive than complain to anyone about anything.  Not so as I get older – in fact now I’m wondering if I’m turning into a crotchety old woman.  Nah.

So I email the store to complain about the treatment I received and explain the treatment I received and mention that I felt they had ruined an otherwise perfect transaction.  After all, my dealings with the store were fantastic (thank you JB HI FI) but that there were people out there that would have the experience soured so badly, that they would be guilty by association.

To my surprise, I get a call from JB the next morning and they were great; they called to speak to Nati*nal PC Solutions who I have no doubt, lied their heads off (strangely enough, he spoke to the manager who I was told, was having “personal issues” and wouldn’t be in for the week…) and although I suspected they wouldn’t post my laptop until Friday, thus making me miss another weekend, he assured me that it was posted.

Last night I rush to the post office.  Not there.  Well I knew damned well the cow wouldn’t send it the day I spoke to her… maybe Thursday.  Tonight, I rush to the post office – not there.

So I came home and emailed JB again.  The petty, ridiculous behaviour…  The rudeness and carry on over $15 – became apparent.  If he had been attempting to pacify me but believing them, his annoyance that they had deliberately not sent the laptop gave him a pretty good indication of exactly what I was dealing with.

And so they will get another call in the morning.  I wonder if that $15 was worth the business..?

As for the Squeeze – things are cruising.  The Harridan is silent; in her creepy, “don’t talk about anything to your father” kind of way – which he met up with Kid 1 & 2 yesterday and told that from here on in, covering up or lying for her was out.  Hell, they already know she is a nutjob.