New toys, feeling old

Sure don't I have a printer...!

The ending of the week with some proper rest has improved the mood no end. I was starting to think of renaming this to MoodBlog, on account of my moody-bastardness recently. I think it was a combination of effects, not least that I wanted some time away from people, but didn't want to miss out or disappoint anyone that I'd committed to. So I slept the sleep of the knackered last Sunday when I got home from the Peaslake barbeque, but that wasn't quite enough. Ended up doing some room-tidying (prompted by Abi's) on Monday night, didn't go to bed early (of course).

Tuesday night, ... dunno what happened then. Late finish, maybe...

Then on Wednesday night I got home late-ish to find a few of the usual suspects gathered in the garden with herself, and a new wood burner. Didn't see that coming, but it managed to consume some of the old Christmas tree we've failed to otherwise dispose of! I called round to Sarah's to see this PC that her other half was getting rid of, which turned out to be a Celeron 650 MHz with 128 MB RAM and a 10 GB drive. And all in a lovely little alumin(i)um case! As if that wasn't enough to get me thinking of wiring up Aggy (and indeed wireless-ing the place up), he gave me a switch, an ADSL modem, a wireless access point (old, he said, but looked suspiciously like the ones we got in the lab in the last year or so ... draw your own conclusions from that).

Thursday was the first chance Neilo and meself had had to meet up in nearly two months, which is almost unheard of for ourselves. We rendezvoused in Ha-Ha's beside Charing Cross, which was a much preferable venue than the station's Old Traditional. Much has happened in the intervening weeks since I went up for Sperm's birthday, with the Aussie in tow. But it all sounds like it's going very well, fair play to him, bringing a dose of sanity to proceedings. After a couple of pints in the Ha-Ha's, and a perfunctory half in the Old Traditional with a dash for some uncustomary Budweiser cans at the Whistlestop, we adjourned to Studio Sloan for the usual Cool Edit-aided craic and some holiday searching. We got very excited by the appearance of Las Vegas near our budgets, but were dejected ... I don't think the word's too strong ... when we realised it was just the flight. Ach well' some other time. (H.S.T. was fired into space yesterday, by the way ... what a star!). In an highly uncharacteristic manoeuvre, I actually went to sleep on the sofa, too, rather than passing out on it! I wasn't sure what that meant.

Friday, then, was begun at approximately 5am. I think this was due in no small part to the lack of a serious hangover, which meant I didn't sleep as usual through the early-morning Charlton traffic. (That's what going-to-sleep-not-passing-out means, Dave...)

There was an unusually organised (i.e. financially driven) plan in all this, too. I had to go back to Wimbledon with the proof-of-address they needed fer-te re-tax the Plan B. So I stopped off en route back to Guildford. Spent what felt like an hour in the Post Office once I'd managed to locate one, thanks to the surprisingly Munster-accented community support policeman. Got back to the house at lunchtime, feeling like death. Too little sleep on the sofa meant the accumulated lack of sleep of the last few weeks wanted instant revenge on me. I wanted to acquiesce, but then herself decided she wanted this month's bills now. Feck. To make matters volatile, she also asked for next month's in advance. I freely admit to being in the wrong about not paying up at the start of the month, but I sent back a terse message saying I'd spent my last at the DVLA, but why did she want my money ahead of time as well? Wrong question, Dave.

Am I missing something? Did you pay me the money, etc. And don't you owe me three months now.

I apologised instantly, then realised the last part didn't make any sense. I'd paid her the previous two months (at about �70 extra expense to meself, which I thought was churlish to mention given my generally obvious guilt, not to mention the fractiousness of things). I'd already said I'd pay for her JPD viva meal on the old cheque book as part-payment, but she seemed a bit surprised about the already-paid bills. I panicked, thinking — as I do by default, and I need to sort that attitude out — that I was actually in the wrong, and doubted myself furiously. This would be not-good. However, for once the bank statement said something in my favour, as I thought I had read before. The cheques had cleared when I'd posted them to the bank, so all was well on that blame-diminution score.

It's weird. Well maybe "weird" really isn't the word. But I've never been close to cracking before. I mean, not that close. I spent a large portion of Friday really scared; I don't mind saying that now I've had a chance to step back and breathe. So little money, so many things committed to, so little energy... that was how it felt in my head. With the commitments removed from that vicious triangle, and no-one around today, I feel like I've got some control back.

Shit. Maybe I should've renamed this BreakdownBlog instead...?

In the midst of it, though, I was pissed off that Dr B was persisting in his plan to visit, despite my gentle warnings that I was not in the form to entertain. And I was even more pissed off that he didn't let me know whether he was planning on staying here. So I stayed awake when I should've gone to sleep. Then he turned up about six-ish, stayed fer an hour or so, then left me to the restaurant, so I forgave him :) So, I went to JPD's meal, where it was nice to get out of the house, even though herself was still there, and I didn't know what her state of mind was. Mind you, if I'm honest, I never do. Unless we're pished, naturally. But she was lovely in public, as always, bless'er.

I stayed out for the meal, enjoyed it immensely, caught up with a few of the people I class as proper friends in Guildford, felt a little odd at us being at a separate table from AndyYou'reAStar and that party, but overall it was great craic. They then headed for the TUP, where I made my excuses and left them to get on with the dhrinking.

Then I got home. I stayed on the sofa for half an hour, just because I could. Then went upstairs, resolving to set no alarms, switch the phone to "I'm asleep", and sleep the sleep of the knackered. Again.

Yesterday was spent a lot more sanely. Borrowed the old wheels to nip to Tesco's, got the last groceries of the month (off to Creamfields next weekend, so that shortened the week). And sorted out the sink a bit, with the aid of some new chemicals and equipment. Dr B called round, as he said he would, in the evening. So we had a bit of a look around at FreeBSD on the new machine, as he came in JUST as I was about to put SuSE 8.2 on it. And then, seeing that I was falling asleep in conversation, he said he'd make his way to Gomshall — Peaslake, I presume. For which I was incredibly grateful.

So today, with the exception of picking up the Plan B from holiday camp and getting the paper, I've stayed inside the confines of Aggy. Determined to take it easy and talk to no-one unless I make the call. It's been Fan Tastic. I like it.

I'll be honest: this week, I've been scared that I'm turning into any one of three members of my family, each of whom has not been known for their gregariousness or general mental well-being. I hope I'm not. But it has made me think about what I'm doing here in Surrey. I'm not saving any money, and my job seems to be bifurcating, rather than being well defined. With herself saying how many grand she reckons it'll take to move across the pond, I think it's only realistic that I start thinking about getting a better paid job and/or somewhere cheaper. Plus get on top of how I spend. But I'm fairly sure now that I've got to leave for my own sanity. Shame. I was just getting used to the place...