Well I'm kind of glad this week is over, it's really not gone according to plan. Nothing major, just the usual round of calamity that seems to follow me around.
I swear I can hear it laughing sometimes.
After all the hectic activity of getting my house straight at the weekend ready for the expected visit from the language school on Monday, I got an email from them in the middle of the afternoon asking if they could come on Thursday instead.
But at the same time not so bad as I really didn't think it would look good to have them turn up and see an old sofa and other crap piled up at the front of the house, so at least I had time to arrange to have that taken away. I got on the phone and sorted it for Tuesday afternoon, which meant that I would be at work but hopefully Son would be in, so I told the fella I would check and call back to let him know.
"I have arranged for someone to come and collect the sofa and other stuff tomorrow between 11 and 1pm, are you going to be here ?"
"Ok, I will leave the money for you to pay him."
(FIVE MINUTES LATER)
"I spoke to Grandad today and he wants some slippers and a CD for his birthday, so if you are going into town this week can you get them for me ?"
"Yeah sure, I can get them when I go to my appointment at the job agency."
"When is that ?"
"What time ?"
"So you're not going to be here when the fella comes for the sofa ?"
"What fella . . . . "
Nothing unusual there though, he's been tuning me out for years. That doesn't make it any less annoying, and it even happens when he's the one who asked the question in the first place. The following day he wanted some paint stripper, we don't have any but I suggested trying the brush cleaner I use for acrylic nails. I told him where it was and described the size and colour of the bottle.
Brown glass, about three inches high and it says BRUSH CLEANER on the label.
Ten minutes later he comes downstairs with these. . .
. . and said "is it one of these ?"
CAN YOU SEE ANY BROWN GLASS ???
When I worked with kids a lot of the training we did revolved around listening skills. Psychologists believe that when we listen we only take in about 7% of what is being said through the actual words. Voice quality, that is the tone, accounts for 38% and the rest is all about the body language. When applied to difficult children one of the ways I used that knowledge was to make sure that in tricky situations, or when trying to make them understand something, that I remained still, relaxed and spoke in a calm even voice. By doing so you can lessen the impact of the non-verbal communication and increase the understanding of what is actually being said.
Even with some very challenging children that could work a treat.
What I can never understand is how those same techniques don't seem to work with Son. Probably because as little impact as the words might have if he doesn't actually hear them at all nothing registers. Next time he goes to find something in my room I'm going to draw him a diagram.
Mind you I'd need a sniffer dog and a safety helmet to find anything in his.
On Thursday I woke up late. If I'm a little bit late for work it's not normally a problem, I just stay a bit later. But yesterday my boss/friend was going out at 11 so I had to be there by then, and I also really needed to get away on time because the Langauge school were visiting at 6pm.
It takes me 10 minutes to walk to the train station and there's a train at 8 minutes past the hour, get that and get a cab when I get there I'll only be 30 minutes late. After I got dressed I checked the time and it was 9.45, I got my phone and my bag, put my coat on, checked again and it was 10.
Who the fuck stole ten minutes from me ?
(I wish I knew, because the sneaky bastard does it quite often. If I could find the fucker I might be able to steal it back. By my reckoning he's taken enough time in the last few months to equal at least an extra day on the week-end).
Never gonna make that train now unless I get a taxi from my house.
Which I do. And waste £3 because I got on the platform at 10.07.58 just in time to watch the train pull away. Every other day the fucking trains run late, and the day I'm the one that's late the fucker is not just on time it leaves the station a minute early.
And then, because I used all my cash on the first taxi I have to make the one I took when I got off the train stop at the shop so I can get more out. And OF COURSE there's a queue a mile long and only one cashier.
But I did manage to make it to work by 10.55, and as I am fortunate enough to work for a friend I was able to leave on time. I got a lift back to the station just as the train home was pulling in, put my ticket in the barrier and it refused to open. The guard came over and looked at it, and I had tried to use the out ticket not the return.
Which meant that when I bought it in the morning I had put the out ticket in my purse.
And thrown the return bit in the bin as I left the station.
FUCK FUCK FUCK
Luckily he believed me and let me through. Although by then that train had gone and I had to wait for the next one so I made it home just before 6.
And the bloody visitors from the Language school didn't turn up.
One of my friends is a very spiritual person. She believes - I'm really not sure how to describe it properly but I guess the best way to explain it would be - in the power of the Universe. That we all draw things to ourselves and the Universe gives us what we need or deserve.
Personally I'm not too sure about that but I certainly believe in Karma.
Most of the little disasters that happen to me really don't amount to much on their own, but when I actually stop to think about how often they occur, and apply my friends ideas to them then I really just have to wonder what it was that I did to the Universe that makes it want to fuck me over on such a regular basis.
Even today it continues, I had the day off work so arranged for my shopping to be delivered late in the afternoon. Today is my Dads birthday and tomorrow I am cooking a meal for the family to celebrate, my plan was to make the curries tonight (we are having a Thai feast) but when I unpacked the shopping I had ordered the wrong chicken.
I wanted breast, I got breaded gougons.
I wonder if that's a sentence ever uttered by a disappointed man ?
In Thailand perhaps.
Luckily Son has his uses, and armed with a very detailed shopping list and a map of the route to the shop he was able to complete the mission to go and get the right kind for me.
I couldn't go because the lady from the Language school was due at 5pm, and this time she did turn up. Pictures were taken of my house (fucking good job I did the washing up) and hopefully I'll get a student soon.
The curries are now cooked and this . . . is the dessert I made. . .
That is a chocolate and strawberry tart.
Just to prove that not everything I do is a total disaster.
Although I can't promise that it will still be in the fridge by the time my guests arrive tomorrow night.
Have a good week-end people !!