Strange how things can turn out. Last night I was so tired, not from actual lack of sleep but waking up on the alarm regularly. I just can't get used to it. So today, no alarm. I woke up 10am after a few hour's sleep and as far as I can tell when I needed the loo (again) it was 1pm with no further sleep.
Bollocks, I thought. But at least I got cracking on my bureaucracy that is desperately needed to fill in, and have done the worst of it now. Then thank goodness I was called to cancel something later on which I would probably have slept through. The alternative job wasn't on for today so I'm blogging now, with serious major housework to follow. Whether more kitchen items will be transferred to the new cupboards remains to be seen, but the paperwork's gathering dust, food splashes and cat fur so I'll be clearing more of that as well. Just a shame there's no one around while I'm doing it.
Anysonglyrics.com has gone bent, I logged on and they asked me to instal activeX or I couldn't use it. No active anything, I got Zango'd. I've had crap all over my computer before and got rid of it, but this sticks. It's write protected and I've been in the registry and cleaner and it makes no effect whatever I click. They must own the software that will remove it, at $19.95 a go. Not me thank you. But I'm on to those guy's ISP and report them, they are clearly deliberately infecting software and should get their ass kicked from there to hell and back. Bastards.
Otherwise this week has been demanding to say the least. Not including today, but more to come, it just seems to be another out of control period where I may as well ignore whatever's planned as it seems to come and go as it chooses. How many times I've arranged things and people pulled out, only once recently did one admit they just couldn't be bothered. If she'd said that the first time instead of saying she was booked up it would have been fine, but what's the problem choosing what we do with our all too limited time.
It's done to me so many times and I really couldn't give a damn, I always find other things to do, and so would anyone else, especially of you just say no rather than change your mind later on.
This isn't a philosophy theme today, it's exactly what's going on today reported soon after it happened.
Otherwise it's Iain Lee on the radio as usual, grandma and Mastermind on TV later, and the rest of the day is mine, though after 5 hours sleep I'm going nowhere except possibly the park. I did have a friend over last night to watch Arsenal take a team of 11 foreign players to the semi finals of the European cup for the first time in a highly exciting 0-0 draw. For this I pay £12 extra a month...
House arrest, Nelson Mandela, what's the most you could get out of being alone at home indefinitely with occasional visitors and no more? Reclusive living hasn't actually arrived yet but some days have elements of it. I wanted freedom, I lost two real actual jobs, and it's really nothing special as I'm on my own. It forces me to occupy myself with things that may be creative or trivial, but all my own efforts and ideas. Can I ever run out? No wonder I dream about hidden rooms and passages in my house, as at least there would be a bit of an adventure possible besides removing unwanted papers every month or two. And at my age I hate to imagine becoming like my late next door neighbour, who lost the will to live at 92, having lived nearly 20 years alone since his wife died. He was almost deaf by then, so struggled to keep a conversation, and eventually found it hard to walk as his back bent over and needed a carer to visit regularly. He was nearly 50 years older than me and I'm seeing similarities I don't like to see. Granted he was with his wife for years, and retired extremely young so probably had a good life, but I only knew him in the last 10 years. If he hadn't been deaf I'd have spent a lot longer talking with him than I did as he had stories about everyone and everything, and regardless of the age gap we had plenty to talk about. He spent the most time on his garden, which went all the way round his house, and still cut the hedges with shears. The new people I guarantee will do nothing to fix the garden in the time it's grown free, and probably quite busy enough together to bother with me, like all the others except one.
I'm really too tired to think beyond the present, or imagine if anything will be able to be improved. I am enjoying the totally unexpected freedom however, and finally also wonder how two models of England footballers could transfer themselves away from my shelf. I can't ask the cleaner as she wouldn't understand (what's Portuguese for 'fellatio' I wonder?) as given a choice between locating Andy Cole and Patrick Viera in plastic and a good 69 with her the 69 would always win. Thank goodness for blogs, who can edit this? Only me, and I'm not going to!