Gamiila (gamiila) wrote,

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It seems a law of nature that when I have a day off, it's always over in the blink of an eye and by the end of them, I still haven't been able to find a minute to just sit down and relax, do nothing.

Take yesterday for instance: I had to get up at the crack of dawn -the cats simply have no comprehension of the concept of lying in- and, still half asleep, catch my train to Amsterdam and yoga class. Which was packed, btw -- everyone having returned from their hols, including the girl that always has to make a spectacle of herself, and gets on my tits something awful. I mean, I don't mind people having a good cry every now and again, say once every 10 years when something terrible has happened to them, like their parents having died or something -- but that's not what's going on here. This is pure, unadulterated attention-seeking, 'look-at-me-aren't-I-doing-well-cuz-I've-got-sodding-emotions-pouring-out-of-me-just-like-it-says-can-happen-in-the-flaming-textbook' crying, complete with great wracking sobs and an unspoken demand for people to go scurrying to hand her great big wads of Kleenex. It breaks my concentration and annoys me to the power of 100, so I flash my eyes and of course that gets picked up on by Ganga who comments on it and in so doing focuses everyone's attention on me. Well, after that, is it any wonder that I can't get into the standing half lotus anymore?

I had to hurry back to The Hague for my meeting with the social worker and my Dad, and as always happens when you need things to run smoothly, the train broke down - but luckily we were already on the outskirts of town so all they had to do was open the doors and we could continue our journey on foot. It meant I couldn't stop off home and change first, but...Anyway, Dad was remarkably well behaved throughout the interview. Of course, he was lying till he was blue in the face, claiming to be totally self-sufficient, but he didn't flare up while I qualified his statements and presented our -i.e. the family's- case for why we think it's best to admit him to a home. Luckily, the woman turned out to be of the really astute kind as well as immune to his charm offensive, and we got the necessary 'indication' for placement in a home. Of course, it may take a while before we can find him a home that meets with his and our approval, but at least now the paper work'll all be in order.

Stayed with Dad for a bit, ran some errands for him, then went home to shower and change, and was out the door again half an hour later to meet an old friend for drinks. I hadn't seen Sascha in nigh on 3 years and hadn't heard from him either for maybe half that time, so it was quite a surprise to hear his voice over the phone last Friday -- but a nice one. I couldn't make his party this weekend, but I could find a window for him Monday night, so we went for a few drinks, and stayed out talking and catching up on all that had happened to us in all the time we hadn't been in touch. He'd just started a new job and was all enthusiastic telling me about it (and trying to convince me it's time to chuck my present job and come and be a civil servant with him). Dicey moment when he asked after my always amazes me when other people remember my erstwhile married state while I myself have more or less forgotten about it. Not that it was a traumatic experience or anything; it's just - well, A) it didn't last long and B) it's always been sort of unreal to me, even while it lasted. Met in April, married in August, I left in January - the whole thing was over and done with in 9 months!::chuckle:: God, that's right, I was married once.

Cooked my famous meatloaf for Allan's visit - turns out there are no real dietary guidelines for people with Crohn's, just trial and error, basically. Anyway, he was feeling better already. So much so that he didn't think twice before entering the danger zone when he remarked (after studying an old photograph lying around) "Cor - you really were drop-dead gorgeous when you were younger, weren't you?"...Were, Allan?
Tags: dad, family matters, real life

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