Monthly Archives: April 2008

Ignorance is not bliss…

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Spent the day sewing with my Mum today.  I’ve been so busy going slowly round the twist with back pain and associated psycho-babble nonsense that I didn’t realise how much I missed her while she was away.  We sewed, did lunch and chatted.  Spent a lot of time talking about my Dad and for the first time in about 4 years I felt like she was ‘back’.  She was so very wrapped up in looking after my father that I think a large chunk of her disappeared for a while there and it seems the travel has restored some of her confidence and somehow she’s given herself permission to laugh again.

I told her about Angel’s experiences in his new school and what he’d been learning in art class.  And I took the opportunity to express my thanks to her for sending us girls to a good private school though I know it must have been a considerable investment as my father’s income was fairly modest when I was young.  She told me that when we were very little kids (around 3 and 4) she had suggested to my father that they needed to start saving for ‘the girs’ education’ and his response was “What for?  They’re girls, they’ll go to school until Year 10 then get a little job until they get married.”

Well apparently he couldn’t have said anything worse as Mum herself had been made to abandon her education by her step-mother at barely 14 years of age and sent out to work as a seamstress.  So Mum drummed him about the importance of giving us a good education and luckily she won the day and we went to good schools and two of us have completed university degrees to boot.  I never knew my Dad was so old fashioned in his thinking as he always seems so proud of his girls.  🙂

Thanks Mum!

Saucer of milk to Azerbaijan?

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I seem to be having way too many days filled with noisy children.  This coupled with the increasing difficulties I am having getting any decent sleep have made for a less than politic, less than diplomatic, less than tolerant and less than pleasant Borys these last few days.   I should offer apologies to those around me who’ve been dealing with this, but I am of the understanding that apologies do normally occur at the end of the offense and I can honestly say that I don’t see an end in sight for the foreseeable future.

No sleep = Fatigue
Fatigue = Less tolerance for pain.
Less tolerance for pain = Extremely irritable.
Extremely Irritable = Vituperative Borys

I need sleep bad and my drugs aren’t working. 
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Car salesmen are people too…. yeah right.

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Have spent most of the morning on the phone dealing with the dealers and dealing with the people who are dealing with the dealers.

Car dealers that is.  I think you must have to commit some pretty heinous crimes in your past life to end up being a car salesmen.  Who on earth grows up saying they want to be a car salesman?  a real estate agent?  It’s like prostitution, no little girl grows up wanting to be a prostitute (or if there was we’d be seriously looking at her home environment!)  So I can’t imagine anyone who would willingly go into a career that makes them even more universally despised and distrusted than ATO (IRS) agents.

Actually come to think of it car salesmen and real estate agents do have one thing in common – they have a unique knack of totally sucking every last iota of fun out of buying a new car or a new house.  I don’t think it’s unrealistic to hope for some moderate portion of enjoyment from acquiring a new home or a new car.  One should be excited about these things – you work/save hard for it so it should be enjoyable.  But having to deal with the agents?  Trying to make sure you don’t get totally reamed up the arse without the small consideration of lube or at the very least, make sure they don’t have the sandy lube handy… well, that just ain’t my idea of fun. 

So I did the only thing a sensible girl could do under the circumstances…. pointed at the vehicle of choice and said ‘Mr K, I want that one.  I know it’s an enormous imposition, but if you could bring yourself to be sullied and possibly anally raped by said car salespeople in my stead… then I’d be forever in your debt’.  

Et voila!  Thanks to Mr K the dishes were done dude!  And I didn’t even have to put on my Betty White face 🙂 

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