I can’t focus today. I’m not sure whether it’s because, it's Monday, I’m getting old and vague, am being challenged by having to live on $200 until 15th June, or perhaps I’m distracted by other more preferable and pleasurable pursuits. I may well have killed a load of brain cells over the weekend . . . Could be because I’m seriously unhappy at work at the moment. Especially since I found out who was instrumental in my Practice Management demise because he can't work with me (Read gets things done and isn’t afraid to say things that are a little unpopular) and the fucker still wants to invite me to an End of Financial Year BBQ at his home. Two-faced son-of-a-herpes-ridden-harpie(no vitriole here). Hell will freeze over before I waste a Sunday with this serial dipshit.
I also seem to be getting worse at remembering things and my attention to detail is almost non-existent. It’s never been good I’m a ‘big picture’ person a communicator, a visualiser, an influencer so working out someones asset allocation or filling in forms is soul destroying but sadly a part of the job. I'd rather clean toilets . . . at least it's physical and everything is clearly improved once the job's done - there's some job satisfaction in that! I like the marketing bit. I could research all day . . . plan all night and implement the next morning but . . . filling in forms . . . updating databases. It unleashes the evil Baino within. This mailaise has cost me heavily. Over the past few days I have:
- Lost my pink Virgin Credit Card
- Tried to deposit a cheque into a non-existent account so now it’s lost and I have to do battle with the bank
- Burned my hand quite badly on a baking tray (althought the roast was worth the pain and surprisingly a liberal amount of ice has reduced the blister to the size of a 50 cent piece)
- Broken one of the speakers in DrummerBoy’s car due to my enthusiasm in helping him unpack some stuff.
- Sent a client a Reply Paid envelope with the wrong address on it
- And I don’t seem to be ‘getting’ anyone’s jokes or funny quips . . .I just sit here with this bemused and confused expression . . .
Worse is yet to come. At about 2:30pm (still having not had lunch) evil Baino came to the surface. After standing in a queue being ignored by bank staff, she began to cough very loudly, make 'hmph' noises and breath rather laboriously. Unfortunately, her 'hmph' noises were drowned out by all the other customer's 'hmph' noises. I think it was me peering angrily over my glasses that actually intimidated one girl into action. I have a grumpy face apparently. It worked, a little slip of a thing came racing out of her pigeon hole asking if she could be of assistance. I explained the faux pas with the cheque, was treated very respectfully (which makes me think I must be looking old or extremely cantankerous or perhaps a combination of both). They couldn't resolve the situation - and seeing as it was my stupid mistake I could harlyd chuck a wobbly - they would call me as soon as they'd spoken to all their client services officers.
So without my cheque, my stomach rumbling loud enough to drown out the piped music in the shopping centre, I headed towards the salad bar. But she wouldn't let me go there . . . nope, evil Baino forced me into Dusk who were having a 50% off sale of beautiful useless things like scented candles and holders and glassware and gorgeous oil burners and stuff - she forced me to pull out the credit card and buy 4 scented candles in little tins even though my budget is uber tight until the 15th. She then, and quite deliberately, diverted every step away from the Freshworld Salad Bar towards that pretty pink Wendy's booth with ice cream, and hot dogs and milk shakes. I tried to resist but her vice like grip had taken hold. I had my eye on the wild rice salad . . . she was checking out the pecan toffee anda ultra choc chip. And I don't even like ice cream . . .the closest I get is that nice soft rim when you bring it home and just before it goes into the freezer. I slid effortlessly across to Wendy's and without even thinking "A hot dog with American mustard and a mocha chilla please . . ." There, it was done, she'd made me do it and once uttered there was no going back and no sign of her. She'd scarpered before the guilt set in.
And now I feel even worse. The hot dog was delicious but too much bread which went in the bin. The chilla is still going - I'm prolonging the taste. The guilt is overwhelming and inside little calories are singing 'na na na-na na sucked in stupid woman." See, all because of a lack of focus, I'm $20 out of pocket for smelly candles and have ingested enough calories to keep a Sudanese family alive for a week. I rest my case . . . lack of focus unleashes evil.