Halloween… The 14th anniversary of My Lady’s and my civil wedding. I hate Halloween now. Don’t bant it. It’s the second anniversary without My Lady. Fortunately I’m at work today and the first few hours have been so mental, I’ve not had time to over think it. Same as most other shittyversaries, I don’t quite remember the day’s significance when I first wake up. As soon as I take my break, those thoughts and memories start poking me. As the day progresses, I get more and more irritable. I really don’t want to be there any more. Finally, the shift ends and I can get the bun out of there. Once I’m home and there was nothing to do, I hit the alcohol. Just the beer at first and not particularly quickly at first. Once the buzz kicked in however, that was that. I necked that can and dug out the cheap and nasty blended whiskey I still had while opening my last can. I didn’t even bother with a glass, I just glugged it from the bottle. Big glugs too. Wtf is wrong with me? Fortunately, there wasn’t a lot left so there was only so far I could go. Despite that, I found myself very drunk, very quickly. I won’t lie, it was what I needed, when I needed it. I’ve not done so much wallowing recently, I’ve not had time, but I indulged it fully last night.
This morning I’m still really sad, but not nearly as bad. Numb to some extent too. I’ll take numb over yesterday, any day. The hangover wasn’t fun though. It’s been quite a while since I’ve had a hangover. My pain killers have kicked in and I’m doing housework before going to do another small povo shop. As ever, the housework has gone to shit again. I’ve been so knackered and depressed, I still can’t face housework after work. All I want is sleep. Living the dream…
I received a call from a technical recruitment agency this week. Building and repairing military devices. I just got the call to say that they would be “delighted” to have me in for interview this week. Thank the gods. A way out of the warehouse and having to work weekends potentially. I can’t remember the last time I had a full weekend off. Fingers crossed.
Wednesday now. Mr Grumpy fuck is back and the other temps haven’t turned up so I’m stuck on my own with him. Joy. I think he managed about an hour before he slipped into his miserable vibe. Dickhead. I’m so intolerant of this shit now. I thought I heard a guy on the next shift saying we were lazy. I immediately retorted “I’m not f***ing lazy!”. It was out of my mouth before I could stop it. The guy did chill out at that point though. Whatever. My verbal filter really isn’t working right now and you know what? I really don’t give a damn.
Thursday: Just me and Mr Grumpy fuck again this morning. I’m finishing at twelve as I have the interview at two. This morning can’t go quick enough. I woke still ill and the slightest exertion had me breathing heavily. I can feel a slight twinge in the top right of my chest as I breath in. The thought occurs to me: ‘What if it is Covid? If is is Covid, then how am I going to fare?’ It doesn’t help that I received a text from the NHS saying “As you are at risk of having complications with Covid-19, you are a priority to have your Covid-19 booster.” Complications? What kind of complications? Only last year I was told I “have the lungs of an eighteen year old”. As I said previously, my booster is booked of course. Since then I have received three texts from my GP surgery, banging on about getting my booster. The only complication I can foresee is the financial complication of having to isolate and lose all that money. All this is swirling around in my mind as I huff and puff the bread stacks around, getting more and more out of breath and more and more worried about the same thing happening to me that happened to My Lady. Vaccinated or not, it’s the first time I’ve been worried about my health since the worst time of my life started. I remember well how My Lady’s breathing was, like it was five minutes ago.
Anyway, the interview went ok. The interviewer said he would recommend to his boss that they give me a try. So why am I not chuffed to bits? I found out in the interview that the initial contract is only expected to last until just before Christmas. Probably the worst time to be out of a job. I know. The place looks very well organised and particularly clean. As I’m shown around on the way out, several people say hi. Seems friendly enough. I could work with this stuff. Disappointingly, he said there would be little to no soldering involved and asked if it would bother me being given odd jobs at first. Maybe I’m weird but I keep getting the impression from workplaces that many people would refuse to do some job or another if they didn’t like it for whatever reason. Do you want the job or not? If so, grow a pair, shut up and crack on. Sure, there are some disgusting jobs that no one would enjoy. Take the bread waste for example. Totally minging. So what? Get the contract done and move on instead of being a whiny pussy about it all. It annoys me, lots. I’ve gone from a secure, comfy, interesting and stimulating job to that Covid factory to giving personal care to people with Parkinson’s, to pushing bread around among the rats and mould. I’ve had to do whatever I can to pay the bills, whether I hated the job or not, and believe me, I hated the Covid factory job. Drug addicts, thieves, alcoholics and psychopaths and sat right next to the hospital that My Lady died in. Yet still, I stuck it out because I had to. What’s the point in bitching and whining? The only thing that achieves is making yourself unpopular, unhappy and most likely ending up with a boot out the door.
So despite the apparent successful interview, the interesting products and environment, if anything, I’m a little disappointed. I’m less secure there. At the warehouse, as miserable and disgusting as it is, it’s highly unlikely I’ll be laid off from there any time soon. They have such a high staff turnover, they’ve seemed quite pleased that I’ve stayed.
I’m sat chilling on the sofa bashing out this drivel. I feel a little strange after the interview. It’s been many years since my last. I definitely need to up my game and change my approach in my next interview. I’m so out of practise. Well as ever it’s a case of suck it and see. I’m starting to feel ill again and sleepy too. I sense another hoodie nap coming. And there it is… The depression. Always under the surface. Hateful creature that it is.
Living my best life…
The Life and Times of Lord Crookedhorn. 