Bit*h about everything!

I’m going to have a bitch. It’s my blog and need to get a few things of my chest. I know I’ve been being this a lot lately but seeing as my best friend saw fit to the crack the shits with me back in November because I had the nerve to say she seemed to have found new and more interesting friends I need somewhere to do it. And thinking about it, maybe things wouldn’t have got so bad if that hadn’t have happened. Anyway. She has rarely spoken to me since, I’ve gotta move on as clearly she’s not interested in letting bygones be bygones despite my efforts to make contact. (and yes...I know this has just sealed the fate of our relationship, but I’m too tired and upset by it all to try anymore).

My Mum is currently in hospital in Spain, having just had several lumps removed from chest and lungs. The lumps have been sent for biopsy and considering her surgeon is a bronchial cancer specialist I’ve got everything crossed very tightly, but since this would be her third cancer (Hodgkins 16 years ago and both breasts removed 7 years ago) I’m also trying not to kid myself that all will be OK. I can't afford to visit her any time soon because ...

On the 17th March I’m moving. This is an forced moved since I am being evicted from my home. I had the nerve to ask for the leaking roof to be fixed and was given 60 days notice. I’m having to move out west, not ideal. So I have to pack up my belongings again, hire a removalist, move Puss and start commuting.

I have a chest infection. It hurts to breath and laugh (not that there is much of that at the moment) and cough (there is a lot of that at the moment). But still I have to go to work. The beauty of being a contractor I suppose. No work, no pay.

I have the worst coldsore outbreak since I was 15, two on my top lip and two on my bottom lip. They hurt all the time. My lips feels like they are about to burst.

My project manager is a dick. He keeps making ‘jokes’ about killing the cat and moving back in with my husband to ease my living arrangements. Yeah, that’d help! When I get in early (before 9.30) because I’ve been up all night coughing, he makes smart arse remarks about the real me being abducted by aliens. Plus, I seems to have turned into his secretary. I’m doing menial work all day, there is plenty of juicy comms stuff to do, but the sh*t takes priority at the moment apparently.

And finally for today someone came up to me and told me I looked like sh*t. I know I look like sh*t and it's because I feel like sh*t. How is that supposed to help, exactly?


In conclusion…I’m going away again. I may be some time.