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stop the world…i (might) want to get off

Have you ever had one of those weeks where you just feel like you are definitely on the Truman Show? Either that or you are in the lap of the Gods and they’re playing a game with you:

“Lets just push her this way a bit and prod her in the side there, and maybe we should throw this spanner into the works. Not for any particular reason.  Just to see what she does.”

Well, I’m definitely having one of those weeks.

For a start, the rain! Any time I have needed to drive any distance at all, the heavens have opened and it has been epic. We are talking about the kind of rain that would have got Noah jealous; rain so heavy that if you stand out in it for more than thirty seconds your clothes will be stuck to every inch of your skin like Plaster of Paris; the kind of rain that comes in sheets rather than droplets, like you’re literally being flushed down a giant loo. Epic. Rain. And you don’t see it coming.  The shafts of sunshine through the bedroom curtain first thing whisper of a bright and joyful day ahead. So you dress appropriately not even considering trousers, despite the fact that it’s April and you should know better. Then someone up in the sky flicks a switch, just as you go outside, and you and your surroundings are drenched in a matter of seconds. Quite magical really. If you want to put a positive spin on the pissing rain pissing on you.

Then there’s the realization that the reason the freezer door won’t shut without concerted effort, is because it has defrosted at some earlier juncture (like when?  really!  when?  because it’s happened entirely without my knowledge) and there is now a wall of ice that Tom & Jerry would be proud of (did you ever see the one with the ice skating and dancing jellies for stage lights?!) wedged irritatingly at the back of the bottom draw.

So that is going to have to be sorted out at the weekend.

Because my new lodger is moving in next week.

Which is great on the one hand, as he seems very nice and perfectly respectable and (mainly) his presence negates any mortgage anxieties that I have been studiously ignoring up until this point. On the other hand I am filled with dread because it means I have to spend the entire weekend doing things like, well, defrosting the freezer. Which, on the list of ‘Things I Would Like To Do This Weekend’ might not usually feature.

Then – as if they are plotting and laughing up there behind the backdrop sky – they decide to break the washing machine.  The lights are on but nobody’s home.  My (now) ex (still feels weird) texted me to announce it’s demise:

“It isn’t turning on!!  No noise or movement!!”

Of course.  So I add that to the list which already includes:

  • Retrieve TV from Ruth’s (not essential but helpful)
  • Beg or borrow a Sofa (one chair might be a bit cosy with new tenant)
  • Van???
  • Call back Utility Warehouse about the fact that BT refuse to hand over the ‘essential’ PAC number because it’s in the ex’s name and not mine (they really don’t like to make it easy do they?)
  • Boiler Service and 2nd opinion on needing to get vent closed.  Will gas really get into cavity in wall and blow off side of house? +Gas Safety Certificate needed (especially now – tenant).
  • Buy freezer box.  Ask Mum how to defrost freezer (I suppose I should be grateful that I’ve got this far through life and never had to bore myself with this task before),  Defrost freezer.
  • New fluffy cushion for Ron (ex wants to keep his current one as it ‘kinda goes with the sofa’.  Fair point.  Sofa is his. Not sure the cat will see it that way but…)
  • Microwave (how essential?)
  • Pint glasses, clothes drying rack, ladle, measuring jug, large dinner plates, masher, garlic crush
  • Get pictures framed (the house is going to look naked)

You see, all the innards of my lounge and some of the contents of my kitchen will be departing along with him this weekend. I’ve known that this would be happening for several weeks. Hence the lists, in a flailing attempt to be well prepared. Currently any panic seems to be being kept at bay by my crazy busy working week. It’s all in a teacup at the moment. That’s the only space I have available. This time tomorrow evening, however, I’m going to be gingerly lifting the lid on the mini-storm that awaits.

Thankfully, the fortuitous nature of whoever is that is controlling my world this week means that I have also had some Ally McBeal-esque distractions to enable me to cope with all the shit.

Yesterday, as I pulled up to the traffic lights on one of the busiest roads into Cambridge, what should be staring at my car headlamps, but a cow? A cow. On the car-filled junction where Trumpington Road and Long Road cross. Know the one? A cow. Wide and wild eyed as motoring-morons try to keep driving. Despite the cow.  In the middle of the road. Luckily I’m not the only one who jumps out, hazards blazing (luckily it had stopped raining by this point) to direct our little friesian adventurer back to his friends. Without wanting to big myself up too much, I would go so far as to say that if you could crystalize this one little moment of cow-herding brilliance, it would be the perfect example of team work amongst strangers. Victory in the face of something even the Crystal Maze was never clever enough to come up with: life-sized-cow-pin-ball.

Then there was this evenings merriment at the Mayor of Harpenden’s Evening Reception.  Cllr Micheal Weaver has done the quite victorious job of raising £7000 for his charities during his time as Mayor.  Half of which, splendidly, has been donated to Herts Air Ambulance (big grin). So I went along to join in the celebrations of his final swan song. Having consumed half glass of Rose, a plate full of chicken on sticks and a pile slightly soggy crisps (tough this wheat free lark), I ended up having to top myself up with no less than three meringues with cream.  That made me a bit giddy.

And then I thought, ‘I love the randomness of my life’.

Even when there is a storm about to blow out of a teacup and even when it rains like dry land never existed. And especially when there are cows in random places and too many meringues accompanied by the patriotic singing of Union Jack waving pensioners.

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