To Want To Run Away and Join the Circus?

[MitziK]

No drip feed, just a long list of utter bollocks I've had to deal with recently.

1. Brother was killed in the Easter period. Initially was thought to be an accident, but investigations are implying that something is 'up' with the story the driver gave, along with their 'witness'. But CCTV of it has miraculously been deleted because nobody bothered asking for it at the time, thanks to the 'witness'. Won't bring him back, but it's fucking shit if it's due to carelessness or negligence, especially if they get away with it.

1. Had to deal with abusive family member and her Flying Monkeys as a result (hopefully for the last time) and play nicely so they wouldn't all lay into me.

1. DP getting a few hours work here and there and wanting a fucking medal for it being 'exhausted as a result of it.

1. Being made redundant from next Friday. Work is getting their bloody pound of flesh from me, won't confirm if I have any outstanding holiday entitlement (term time only contract, so it's not clear), so I probably should be relaxing in the garden, but they're determined to make sure I miss out on that or being paid for it. They have been pissing me around since January with this.

1. The Union was so fucking shit, I'm changing to another one. Apparently, you can pick up salary as a fulltime union employee but never answer calls, never answer emails and just not show up at meetings. So if I'm being fucked over despite the research I've tried to do, it's because they're too shit to help - and if I'm not, well it's no bloody thanks to them.

1. The washing machine packed up (water all over the electrical parts the day after DB died). We do not have the money to replace it. DP has been washing everything in the bath. I have crispy knickers and he has shrunk all my socks to baby size in the tumble drier rather than hanging them out to dry.

1. My Psoriatic Arthritis has been flaring and it's taken the hospital 9 months so far to get as far as approving Humira, but still no sign of actually receiving the first dose. I'm tired and I feel like I've been in a cement mixer with a bag of cobblestones when I open my eyes in the morning after my usual 4 or so hours of sleep.

1. This morning, I realised the Psoriasis is back. In my hair, which means clumps are about to start falling out, my face and legs leave a snow like trail and there's a lovely red patch under my chin that looks like a love bite.

1. Shit day at work. Of course it is, every day is either shit or barely tolerable.

Anyhow, I've come home and the first thing I've seen is an NHS penalty charge for the prescription the GP gave me when my brother died. We were in receipt of full UC for that month and I clearly had a legitimate exemption, ticked the box they told me to and wrote Universal Credit on it.

I went to the UC website to screenshot the award notice for that month and they've cancelled our claim for no apparent reason. So we've had to restart it, which means appointments, delays and the usual shit just as I'm going to have no fucking salary going in for two months.

On the positive side, I've been offered another job somewhere else starting in September. Yay me. But work is being shitty about letting me take my ID in to them before they close for the summer.

My GP surgery is great. He called a couple of weeks ago to see how I was doing and I happened to be mid meltdown in the Stationery Cupboard at the time. I've had a sicknote at the bottom of my bag since then, but haven't handed it in, as I'm worried that will knacker any chances I have of a decent reference - my new job is a fixed term contract, so I will be needing them at some point in the next 12 months, although once they close next year, God knows how I'll get a reference from them then.

There is so much to do at work to make the people remaining's jobs a million times easier than the tasks ever were for me - producing training materials, hefting gear around to make it all perfect and neat, getting things fixed (and it's my fault nobody is available to repair the things immediately, apparently), having to do wanky things like get sunburn and heatstroke on Enrichment Activities, set things up for next term (and have this year's lot immediately go in and trash it all) - the list of shitty things is fucking neverending.

Oh, and I'm expected to go to some bullshit ceremony on my last day for speeches - and to provide the entertainment. So I'll be working for free whilst the people who still have jobs are knocking back the prosecco.

I want to hand in my sick note that's been valid for ten days already and run away.

But there's only five days of utter shit to go. And the sodding ceremony.

WIBU to go sick like the doctor says I should? Or should I stick it out for five more days?

That all sounds horrific. for you.

heck, things have to get better for you now, what a rubbish time you've had, but yes, do it, what act do you fancy doing in the circus ?

meant to say i'd hand in the sick note tbh, as you should have done originally, you can't help being off sick.

Ywnbu to go off sick.

Inyour shoes I would probably stick it out for 5 more days for the sake of the reference though.

And plan something nice for a week today

Thanks. I was having a bad evening - it probably didn't help that DP woke me up coming to bed at 4.45am (I'd fallen asleep at 11pm, which is unheard of for me) and I had been awake ever since.

I was very good this morning though - I've finally realised that the reason I am always awake early on days off and feeling more like shit that usual is that he had his phone alarm set for everyday, and has been waking up, turning it off and immediately going back to sleep before my brain has kicked in enough to tell me that there's a fucking alarm going off. And I was awake until 3.30am due to having a crappy online training course to complete and he was still mincing about recording his general guitar twattery at midnight - by 1am he was 'tired' and zonked out whilst my head was still bouncing 30,000 things around in it. I really didn't need to be awake at 6.30am.

The conversation went something like a muffled 'Could I possibly have a look at your phone to check something?' 'Yeah, sure' [opens alarm app to find it's set to everyday, unticks Saturday and Sunday and saves the setting] 'There you go, maybe it won't wake me up tomorrow - are you asleep again already?' 'ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ'.

Of course, my internal script has me hurling it and him from the bed, out of the bedroom window and into the street whilst swearing profusely.

I think I'll try and stick it out next week, but I am really finding this hard now.

I'd rather be working with the horses in the circus in my head, though even if I'd be more appropriately cast as the Bearded Lady.

op bearded lady ? at least you are keeping your sense of humour.

Have to - at 1.30pm this afternoon, I sat on the end of the bed to dry my hair whilst DP sat at the head of it - and the entire slat support batten (? the thing that the slats screw onto) went 'clunk' and I disappeared with the mattress into the frame and amongst the boxes of DP's crap that he keeps under there with cat tumbleweeds and the occasional surreptitious furball.

So we had to empty the room once he retrieved me, trying not to laugh, he's repaired it, I've cleaned all the bits that he can't normally reach doesn't bother trying with the vacuum cleaner, DTwatCat has defended his new and exciting climbing frame and it's all being rearranged in a different configuration.

I am so going to crash out - gently - on it once everything is done.

Maybe I'd be better at the plate spinning act? Especially if they happen to be plates covered with lighter fuel and blazing all the time.