Lovely Monday, So Could Easily Have Been My Monday Morning From Hell

This morning, I could have gone to work to the assignment from hell, but instead I am home drinking coffee and pissing around on the internet, with my bulldog acting as a lap-dog, keeping my thighs lovely and warm. He lays in the middle of my crossed legs, his head on one thigh and his arse up against the other thigh. He's like straddling a medium sized poof, (pouffe, not a small man) giving birth to a medicine ball. I don't know, but he doesn't cover my feet and keep them warm, damn him.

Lovely Monday, so could easily have been my Monday morning from hell! Maybe there is something to this "Universe" bullshit, because I was talking to whoever would listen last Friday around 5pm, tick, tick, tick, to anyone who'd listen, let's be truthful, God, Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Krishna, L.J. Hubbard, the Sugar Plum Fairy, any fucker with some, alleged, skerrick of, supposed, influence who was listening and could help. I was desperate. And here I am, warm legs, cold feet, giddy head, if you get what I mean. Lovely. Talk about snatching victory from the jaws of defeat. (or is it the other way around?) Talk about coming through at the last possible minute. I was viewing 6pm as my last strike on the Doomsday Clock, as the chime started its first piercing clang, as I was staring down death and certain defeat, nothing was going to save this little black duck by that point, when my phone rang, and it was Jack telling me he had found a replacement, another contractor willing to take over, he was, apparently, pumped about the position. 

"Here, this is awful, you have it," I said. "And good luck with that." And I metaphorically skipped off home by the rose covered garden path.

I was more than a little concerned about the boss guy and the fear many of the staff showed towards him. He was your classic ex-jock only risen to middle management and resenting everyone for his lack of achievement. I am sure several of the staff were terrified of him. I'm guessing he beat his wife.

Lovely. A quiet, stress free Monday after all. Thanks god, Allah, whatever imaginary, placebo affect, coincidental, deity, for "think it, do it!" I realised the joint was dodgy (that is the company and not the spliff, you understand) and instead of doing my normal step back "let's give it a chance," (and end up being miserable for the duration of the assignment) I called it out as awful and got the hell out. 

Now, I can continue rotting away in my lounge room, pretending to write, hoping it hasn't gone to my head regarding the ease with which I am chucking in jobs, if the last 2 months is anything to go by... ah, fuck it, who needs that aggravation.

The back garden sparkles in the sun light.

Mark stayed all day. It was nice, we chatted. He didn't catch his train to the coast until late in the afternoon. He wanted my car really, he'll be back on Friday, but I am on holidays, I can go wherever I please, and while there is a good chance I won't use my car, I just might too. He didn't really see it that way, I kind of think he thought I was being mean. Oh well. Ex-boyfriends and the bottom line is that it is my car. We don't have to come to a harmonious compromise any longer, that is why we are ex-boyfriends.