Here I am possums, not to fret (for anyone who is not fortunate enough to understand that cultural reference, I should direct you here).
Karma has been giving me something of a pick and mix assortment of latey. Probably cos I thought I was strong and worldy enough to deal with an online booking system whose call centre appeared to be located somewhere out in Tajikistan and used up all my phone credit trying to sort out the whacky but inevitable fallout (which they obviously refused to sort out anyway but devised to keep me on line while they avoided sorting out the problem for as long as possible). *
So still in my bad karmic loop, the next morning I got stuck in the train thanks to an epic door fail at my stop, so I was an hour late for work (who I couldn’t call because...? See above...) Then I had to make up the time, and get a little telling off for good measure. Yet another reason that temp work can be a drag.
Then, THEN we should add in the joyful (and semi regular) experience of my bfs parents going through one of their “episodes” who managed to extrapolate some series of events scenario via a series of imaginary leaps that ended up with me as a villan and them as some unfortunate victims of circumstance. You know, it’s taken me the best part of 30 years just to get my OWN parents under control, I am SO not ready to start again with a couple whose kids have obviously not taken the time to decently manipulate them into behaving correctly.
Finally my karma balance shifted (conveniently coinciding with the partaking of cocktails). Spent the weekend playing tourguide in Paris, even in the face of craptacular weather. Came to the realisation that my 'cool bar in Montmarte' is in fact shite and expensive, aaaah - disillusionment!) shopping, drinking, the Musée d’Orsay, sharing my physical space with Angelina Jolie and very nearly trampling on her child, drinking...
* Fret not dear readers; I managed to get it cancelled through a sneaky process of calling someone more competent
2 comments:
Quite a karmic mix. I recommend introducing Angelina Jolie to Ben's parents. Or better yet, get her as guarantor on the apartment. Even better still, get her to buy you a small palace, which you could then rent to Ben's parents and various housemates, at very reasonable prices.
y'know, I'd love for her to do the whole 'strike fear into the hearts of mortals' gimmick on the psuedo-inlaws, but they'd probably a) have no idea who she was and then b) try and force feed her cheese til she keels over from a cholesterol attack...
Post a Comment