Dotty’s been MIA the last few days. I abandoned my post of sentry duty at the entrance to Camp Carnage and off I trotted to the nearby town of StabilityLand for some much needed R&R.
Sometimes I think I’d love to be in the military or police force. I reckon I could be good at it. And I wonder if it would do something to quell the wandering shadowiness of any creativity in me that wreaks havoc on the routine that could keep my rogue chemical levels in check. Does being in the Army stamp out emotion? I’m sure it doesn’t entirely but maybe it trains you how to curb excess of emotion or how to channel it in to successful missions. Mind you, I think I’d feel awesome if someone let me blow bad shit up and drive around in a Get Out of My Fucking Way Tank or fly a super sonic stealth bomber away from the persistent destruction in my own head. Maybe Robert Gregory was on to something. I guess I’m too old now. And I’m not great for doing what I’m told. Although maybe having someone else make all the decisions for me would be exactly what I need. I’d just hope my CO was a woman.
Anyway I’m sitting in my car waiting for Elsadaughter to come out to take her to school. Late. Again. I’m waiting for her out here because I have the grand total of four euro in my bank account and I can’t find any change. My ParkingTag account is empty and it will only let you top up by twenty euro so my four euro is deemed insufficient funds. Another ten days till I get paid and not a penny (well four euro) to my name. That one hundred and twenty euro on myself has come back to bite me on my Family Not Without Controversy Owned Nationwide Grocery & Drapery legginged arse. I have to get my old car sold, I have to get onto Big Irish Online Buy &bSell site and sell Quarter Pounder’s Shut Her Up / Guilt jewellery. I need to sort out college. I have a meeting there at four today. I need to sort out school. I need to walk the dogs. I need a shower. I need to eat. I need to write back to another solicitor who informed me I’m in doodah with yet another lender. This time the institution who provided the funds for wedding to aforementioned Husband and honeymoon with same. I got all of the kid and all of the debt in that break up. I thought I was paying it out of my account every month (there are so many repayments that go out of there I can’t keep track) and I wrote letters in the summer to try keep up to date with it but now I have another solicitor’s letter in my bulging To Be Sorted Out drawer.
This morning hasn’t been good. I feel sick in my belly and I could be getting a cold. I’m exhausted and dizzy and I desperately want to curl up in a ball and be alone. The last two hours have involved avoiding clampers, getting ElsaDaughter to school, dreading this college meeting later, trying to find my bank card, scavenging for change, two unsuccessful and humiliating trips to Large Retailer across the street and asking my mother for money, again. I don’t know how I’m going to get across the city to discuss my absenteeism with a university lecturer later. Actually I don’t know how I’m going to move off this sofa and have a shower.