The last couple of weeks have been trying. Normally I keep this kind of thing to myself and brood, but I've decided to try and moan more to people, let them know how I'm feeling and see if it helps me to cope better myself. If I stay up here on my own and keep it to myself I'm sure to go potty.
So here we go...The tooth reconstuction I shelled out for a month or so ago has broken already, and sod it, I'm just going to have what's left taken out instead of forking out a scary €1,500 for an implant.
I may have a wheat intolerance/allergy. It looks like my sister is at least intolerant. I need to make an appointment at the doctor's to get tested.
I lost a pumpkin. Remember last year's crop? Well this one was even bigger. It rolled down the hill, broke through the fence into the neighbour's finca, hit a bump in the earth, flew into the air, collided with the branches of a tree and exploded into pieces. Fortunately it was my part of the fence that broke, and not the neighbour's, becasue he's a grumpy old bastard who hasn't been very friendly in the past. It was also fortuitous that nobody was around to get in it's path, otherwise it may have become a killer pumpkin. Now I'm afraid to try and move its companion in case the same happens again. I've told Cris that if she wants her Halloween pumpkin at the academia this year I'll need help in harvesting it. It´s not so much the loss of the vegetable that made me sigh, rather the fact that it brought the realisation home that managing on my own is more difficult, and at times, rather wearing.
Shortly after witnessing the demise of the pumpkin, the woman who owns the field where I go to collect firewood moaned that I'd broken the wall surrounding the land by placing when my logs on it. I swore I'd been very careful and it wasn't me, she pointed out that she'd paid a considerable amount of money to get the wall done and that it had to have been me. I said I'd go and look at it. Which I did after she'd left. The old witch had marked every chip that had come of the wall using an old piece of roof tile. Some were in places where it would've been impossible for me to lay any wood (right in front of a lamp post for example) and others weren't even broken bits, just irregularities in the concrete. Anyway, I'm sure she's bad-mouthing me in the town now, she's that type of person. I'd love to tell her to stuff her wood, but this is my sole source of heating and I can't afford to buy any. I'll have to figure something out. I shall try and be diplomatic but if she winds me up I may end up forgetting how cold it gets here in January and February and tell her where to go after all.
Worst of all, I took the motherpuss from my mum's house to the vet's to make sure she wasn't pregnant which in itself went well - she wasn't - then brought her back here to see how she'd get on with my three and if having her here was an option since she behaved perfectly at the vet's and seemed to trust me completely; she ran straight out of the cat flap straight and I haven't seen her since. This happened ten days ago, despite going to call every night and keeping en eye out for her on the way to work every day there's no sign of her. I hate thinking I might not see her again, that she's out there on her own, and feel miserable knowing it's all my fault. Everything else that's happened in the last couple of weeks wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for this.
I'm fortunate to have a job to go to that cheers me up when I'm feeling down. I doubt many people can say that. I had a good laugh this evening when one class of students, when asked to name famous English people, responded with George and Mildred, (see here for a taster) which was mysteriously chosen, out of the many British comedies on offer, to be shown on Spanish TV, and it was still being rerun a couple of years ago. I find it absurdly amusing to imagine thousands, maybe even millons, of Spaniards watching the programme and forming ideas about the British from it.
So here we go...The tooth reconstuction I shelled out for a month or so ago has broken already, and sod it, I'm just going to have what's left taken out instead of forking out a scary €1,500 for an implant.
I may have a wheat intolerance/allergy. It looks like my sister is at least intolerant. I need to make an appointment at the doctor's to get tested.
I lost a pumpkin. Remember last year's crop? Well this one was even bigger. It rolled down the hill, broke through the fence into the neighbour's finca, hit a bump in the earth, flew into the air, collided with the branches of a tree and exploded into pieces. Fortunately it was my part of the fence that broke, and not the neighbour's, becasue he's a grumpy old bastard who hasn't been very friendly in the past. It was also fortuitous that nobody was around to get in it's path, otherwise it may have become a killer pumpkin. Now I'm afraid to try and move its companion in case the same happens again. I've told Cris that if she wants her Halloween pumpkin at the academia this year I'll need help in harvesting it. It´s not so much the loss of the vegetable that made me sigh, rather the fact that it brought the realisation home that managing on my own is more difficult, and at times, rather wearing.
Shortly after witnessing the demise of the pumpkin, the woman who owns the field where I go to collect firewood moaned that I'd broken the wall surrounding the land by placing when my logs on it. I swore I'd been very careful and it wasn't me, she pointed out that she'd paid a considerable amount of money to get the wall done and that it had to have been me. I said I'd go and look at it. Which I did after she'd left. The old witch had marked every chip that had come of the wall using an old piece of roof tile. Some were in places where it would've been impossible for me to lay any wood (right in front of a lamp post for example) and others weren't even broken bits, just irregularities in the concrete. Anyway, I'm sure she's bad-mouthing me in the town now, she's that type of person. I'd love to tell her to stuff her wood, but this is my sole source of heating and I can't afford to buy any. I'll have to figure something out. I shall try and be diplomatic but if she winds me up I may end up forgetting how cold it gets here in January and February and tell her where to go after all.
Worst of all, I took the motherpuss from my mum's house to the vet's to make sure she wasn't pregnant which in itself went well - she wasn't - then brought her back here to see how she'd get on with my three and if having her here was an option since she behaved perfectly at the vet's and seemed to trust me completely; she ran straight out of the cat flap straight and I haven't seen her since. This happened ten days ago, despite going to call every night and keeping en eye out for her on the way to work every day there's no sign of her. I hate thinking I might not see her again, that she's out there on her own, and feel miserable knowing it's all my fault. Everything else that's happened in the last couple of weeks wouldn't be so bad if it weren't for this.
I'm fortunate to have a job to go to that cheers me up when I'm feeling down. I doubt many people can say that. I had a good laugh this evening when one class of students, when asked to name famous English people, responded with George and Mildred, (see here for a taster) which was mysteriously chosen, out of the many British comedies on offer, to be shown on Spanish TV, and it was still being rerun a couple of years ago. I find it absurdly amusing to imagine thousands, maybe even millons, of Spaniards watching the programme and forming ideas about the British from it.
5 comments:
Poor motherpuss and poor *you*. It's sad to think of her outside on her own, but she's probably been living outside her whole life and can look after herself better than most cats. And you did get her checked out at the vets.
As for your neighbour, take a lesson from Roald Dahl and squash her under a giant runaway pumpkin (if peach unavailable).
Hello! And thanks for the wonderful comment. I woud take great pleasure in following your suggestions and squishing the old bat with my pumpkin.
The extremely good news is that I founf Pussycat (what I call the mother puss, it was supposed ot stop me form giving her a real name and getting too attached).
And she wasn't anywhere near the house either, but kilometres away. I was on my way up the hill in the car and saw a pair of familiar-looking black cat legs with white paws disappearing into the undergrowth at the side of the road. Not daring to believe it was here, it was hightly unlikely, it swung the car over, swiftly pulled on the handbrake and ran to the side calling out 'Pussycat!' as I went. I leaned over the barrier, and nothing. And then I heard a mew from near my feet and it was her. I was astounded. I scooped her up right away and she was as pleased to see me and I was her and started padding my coat as soon as she was in my arms
Anyway, I drove her straight back to my mum's house, instead of riskign bringing her back home again, which is what I'd love ot do but in practice is unworkable. Fed her, gave her one more huge cuddle, and came back home. I'll go up there tomorrow for move cat lurve.
Sheesh, I do sound like a mad old cat lady now.
BTW, I presume you don't have any cats of your own yet? I know of two very cute little kittens who will be looking for a home soon. I don't suppose you could be persuaded? I'm going to have toruble giving them away, but I know you'd look after them properly and give me updates on their progress, and that would make it much easier. There's a free holiday for you in Asturias if the answer's yes!
Hooray! That "mew" probably translates as "what took you so long, mad old cat lady?" Pussycat X can now relax back in more familiar territory. Did you manage to have her done before she escaped?
Alas, my flat is unsuitable for cats so I can't look after the little homeless kittens. Near where I work is perfect for cats, miles of open countryside to wander around. Could I get away with keeping them under my desk?
Congrats on getting the mama kitty back. See, someone's looking out for you! Or it was a happy coincidence.
I keep trying to think about the breakaway pumpkin and feel some tragedy about it, but it's impossible. I'm sorry, but the very thought of it makes me giggle every time. A runaway pumpkin, making its bid for freedom. You have to admit, that's hilarious.
That rotten woman and her rotten old wall on the other hand, need what Stewart said, a good old fashioned Giant Peach to come roll over her house and snuff her out. How and why people get so picky over the smallest things always amazes me. Heaven't they read Don't Sweat the Small Stuff? Can't they climb outside their pettiness with all the important things going on in the world? I guess not.
I think the best answer for her is probably something more prosaic than a giant peach, though. You should talk to her and simply tell her the places you couldn't have damaged, and just stonewall her. She has no proof, so tell her to piss off. And if that doesn't work - ninjas.
Your illustration of how one culture can perceive another based on something like a television programme reminds me of an unfortunate point I have to make far too often (in these days of Facebook and friendships with people from literally around the globe) that a) America is not what you see on TV sitcoms and dramas, nor the stuff that Hollywood and the recording industry spews (that's a good word for it) forth, nor is it solely out government or sensationalised news stories about born-again christians giving birth to octuplets. In fact, I seem to recall myself having been born here, simply by accident, and I think I'm a pretty normal, well adjusted person. I mean, as normal as any of us are, which encompasses a whole range of human quirks, but which can be found the world over. You've no idea how tiring it gets to feel somewhat on the defensive by default simply because where I happen to live, and that that place isn't very popular at this point in time in many parts of the world. Shit, it's not MY fault. I vote liberal and green and libertarian or some combination thereof every time, and was an atheist in the crib.
Prejudice stems stereotypes, which are born of ignorance. If the world could have big 60s-style pow-wow and nobody could sit next to someone from their own country or ethnicity or religion, but had to spend an entire day with someone completely different (superficially) from themselves, I think we'd collective GET IT that we're all the same human species with the same needs and desires and shortcomings.
And lastly, I couldn't held but notice you used the phrase "lay wood." =)
Stewart - no she's not been done yet, but she's on the feline version of the pill until I can save up the €s. I've just donated to the atheist bus so the cat fund's a little shorter now.
I dunno, d'you reckon two purry puds would've be noticable at work? The male is getting rather hefty already, he's going to be a real bruiser. Maybe your company could adopt them, they'd keep the mouse count down although perhaps chew all the cables just as much.
Meta. I know, I know. It would've been afunny incident if I'd been in a better mood. Now mum puss is back I can look back and chortly. Although I'm still grateful no-one and no animal got in it's path.
I like the pow-wow idea - reckon we could get to sit next to each other? Or is that not allowed since I already know you're not a fat, bible-bashing Bush lover?
And finally, no more posts about wood until you start behaving yourself!
Post a Comment