r_scribbles: (Laurel & Hardy)
Ugh. Another weird weekend. Firstly, Alex has been sleeping really, really badly for about a week now. Teething issues I think, but very, very tiring and frustrating. Me & Hubs have had very little time or energy for ourselves or each other. Itching for some time away from Mummying, I made last-minute plans to go shopping/lunching at Lakeside with [livejournal.com profile] violetcreme on Saturday. Both children also have colds and were knackered on Friday, so we had pizza, gave the kids an early night and were done with the washing up etc pretty early and looking forward to a chilled couple of hours together on Friday night. Watch QI, maybe an episode of The Wire, maybe even a film.

The power went out at ten to nine, just as we were waiting for QI to start. The day nursery over the road has one of those burglar alarms that automatically goes off when the power goes out, and does not, as we discovered, switch itself off after any less than about an hour and a half... and then erratically continues to go off while the power remains out. Nobody came to switch it off themselves, because nobody was there. I really don't see what the point of something that automatically goes off so often and doesn't stop is - surely an alarm relies on the goodwill of your neighbours - if all it does is go off for no good reason and piss them off, if you are ever broken into, they'll just roll their eyes & curse the alarm again instead of checking it out or calling the rozzers. It is the alarm that cries Wolf.

The power cut, and the resulting loud, whining, persistent alarm continued until about 6 in the morning. We did not get much sleep. By the time I got to Lakeside, I was starting to see everything through a furze of surreality. Tiredness aside, Lakeside was a blast. Miss C made me laugh by calling escalators 'The Moving Stairs'. We loudly discussed Twitter, writing and TV in Starbucks, much to the obvious annoyance of a man in a nearby table who was reading a paper. It's a cafe, not a library, dickwad, we'll talk if we want to! We decided that all Telly People live together in one big house, with a special annexe flat for the Jewish ones. Maureen Lipmann cooks the tea, apparently. Maybe Newspaper Man was just glaring because he didn't understand irony. I did the Mum Thing of going out to get stuff for me and ending up with lots of presents for the kids. Alas, The Disney Store was to much of a temptation. Vi now owns a Little Mermaid Dollie, Alex a Winnie The Pooh Teddy.

Luckily, Mum had also made last-minute plans to come down this weekend, and provided us with childcare help and, possibly even more importantly, an excuse to go and get a Chinese instead of cooking.

I spent all last night paranoid that our power was going to go again. This was largely because, from 6am on Saturday morning until an unspecified time during last night, our power was supplied via an emergency generator. It was a massive thing - as big as a lorry, parked just outside the substation, which isn't far from our house. We could constantly hear the low hum of it as it churned out electricity. Now, I was really impressed about this - when I was little, if you had a power cut then the power stayed off til the problem was fixed, be that hours, days or longer. I hadn't expected the power suppliers to go to the trouble of bringing us an emergency generator for 24 hours. Its steady hum, combined with the memory of a miserable Friday night, however, still made me feel really vulnerable. We rely on electricity for so much - we have no gas oven or hob, and even our boiler won't work without electricity. I don't like being reminded of how much my comfort & that of my family changes is affected by the loss of one utility.

Everything's back to normal again now, except that I'm still brooding over my addiction to electricity. Well, that and my plans to make leaving wailing burglar alarms overnight a criminal offense.
r_scribbles: (Legs - Shiny!)
Hello. I have a tale of extreme snow woe to tell - basically there was a massive birthday weekend planned for me in a country mansion starting today, but said mansion is now completely inaccessable due to the bloody weather and my Birthday has had to be cancelled. I am very glum.

Instead of going on about how very miserable I am about this (and, believe me, I am) here is my answer to today's [livejournal.com profile] fannish_5 question:

Name five characters who should have their own spinoffs.
The Adventures of John Worf, P.I.
This is the one that me and Hubs have actually got worked out - we've written the theme tune and everything (basically just 'Shaft'.)

Because a Spin-off of a spin-off would be fun.

Everybody Loves Hypnotoad

At Home With Legolas & Gimli
Domestic larks with everybody's favourite gruff Dwarf/Lactose Intolerant Elf pairing!

Felix And Louis Got Married
Dharma & Greg In Space style sitcom in which Gaeta and Hoshi make it to Earth together & spend the rest of their days celebrating their mis-matched romance and weaving shirts from spider's webs.
r_scribbles: (TNG not tea)
Remember how I've had a really stressy, knackering week with Alex being sick? Remember how much I was looking forward to a relaxing, sleep-filled weekend?

Yeah... doesn't really happen when you've got kids.

Was having a nice Friday night - a bit of wine, a bit of Afterlife - had just fed Alex at about 11.30 and managed to put him down awake & was feeling all smug about it and starting to think about bed at midnight when I heard a really loud, repetitive, barking cough from upstairs. 'Poor Alex', I thought, 'that cough's no better'. Only, after 30 seconds or so I realised it wasn't Alex, it was Vi. When I got to her room she was crying & struggling to breathe. a 999 call later, the paramedics arrived, diagnosed Croup and took me and her to the nearest Hospital with a proper A&E - in Ashford, 40 mins drive away. She was able to breathe better by that point but still very uncomfortable. Long & short of it, she was given steroids at half 1 which soon made her feel better but we still needed to wait for one of the handful of Doctors in the packed A&E (BTW - hey, drunks! That's some nice straining of NHS Resources you're doing there! I really like the way your self-inflicted maladies take space and medical attention away from those who are genuinely sick or badly hurt - please, keep that up!) to check her over and sign us out & that didn't happen til nearly 3.30. And after that I needed to call Hubs to sling Alex in the car & drive all the way over and pick us up. Got to bed at 5. I'm not too bad after sleeping til noon and Hubs is surprisingly chipper, but poor Vi is exhausted. Bah.

Anyway, thanks to Albino Cavewoman for sending me this last night. Really cheered me up. 'Warp me to Halifax!'

r_scribbles: (Bobby Harron)
Oh God, Oh God, what a flipping awful day. Little Ally-pops is not a well boy at all. A sniffle on Monday has turned into a horrible, hacking cough yesterday, and that coupled with a temperature and pretty much constant grizzling and crying today. Couldn't have been a worse day for Hubs to be up in London for work until late tonight, but thems the breaks, I suppose. Just Calpolled him up and trying to feed him now but he won't bloody drink. AAARRRGH!
r_scribbles: (Not a happy bunny)
Cor, haven't posted in a whole week! Been busy busy with life stuff, what big chunks of time I've had have been spent very slowly uploading my old fics to [livejournal.com profile] scrib_lit, pecking even more slowly at my writing and Simming.

Plus the whole weekend has been very busy (again), not to mention very awkward as Mum and Stepfather have spent the weekend in Kent for the first time since the incident at Easter. Nobody mentioned my sister's continued exclusion from Mum's house - since the Stepfather reacted so badly to me trying to persuade him to be reasonable last time I was worried something similar would happen and didn't want a scene in front of the kids, plus with me & Hubs still gearing up for my FiL's funeral we really didn't want any more stress... besides, as Hubs noted, neither of us would have put it past the Stepfather just driving off with or without Mum should we 'bully' him by trying to calmly talk about the shitty situation that *he* has created. So the weekend passed without incident, but with me feeling thoroughly guilty at every moment that by visiting them at their resort and welcoming them into our home without mentioning the elephant in the room we were silently condoning the way my sister's been treated. I don't intend to play tit-for-tat and ban the Stepfather from my home over this - I think it's a very childish way to behave that sets a horrible example to my kids on how to deal with problems. But I don't know if I can go up and visit again if no steps are being made to end the stupid situation. Stepfather won't even talk to my sister at the moment - he won't even be *asked* to talk to her without throwing an eppie. I feel uncomfortable as it is socialising with him now - I'm not sure I could accept hospitality from him that's been withdrawn from my sister with no apparent reason.
r_scribbles: (Clumsy waiter)
Fuck, fick, feck! Lost our carkeys! only discovered this when hubs was about to do a big shop this afternoon - lucky then and not as he was supposed to leave for work I suppose, but we've turned the whole house over & they're nowhere to be found. I was the last to have them, to take Alex to the doctors yesterday, but I have absolutely no memory of what I did with them. Apart from making a sow's ear of parallel parking while Alex screamed & hurrying into the house with him to feed him I can't remember a thing. The car's locked up but it's possible I left them in there by accident or even dropped them in the street, although they're not in the street between the car and the door now. Seriously - when I've been concentrating on one or both of the kids, I'm capable of dropping bigger, heavier things than keys and it just not registering at all. Either way, it involves me being a complete and utter mong. Feel like a complete twat, we're now going to have to call out an emergency locksmith tomorrow (expensive) and hope that someone hasn't taken the keys today and wants to come back and nick the car tonight. I just hope they're locked in the car, because I want to know where the Hell they are!
r_scribbles: (TNG erk!)
Poor Vi still isn't well. No more sicking so far, and no squits, but a fluctuating temperature, grumpiness and sleepiness, plus she's off food and now off drink as well. Really hope this is short-lived and doesn't pass on to Alex. At the moment we're keeping Alex in a different room to Vi, but it's quite hard when he needs something and she's still very clingy to be there for both of them, seperately.

Plus Vi's such a skinny thing that she always worries me when she gets a tummy bug and loses yet more weight.

r_scribbles: (Quantum Leap - Shit!)
Oh GOD, never, ever use Royal Mail for packages. EVAR! First of all, I'm annoyed because my already expensive CafePress mugs need customs charge paying, but the bloody post has made actually paying it and picking my delivery up from their sorting office a nightmarish labyrinth of Gilliamesque red tape. I walked. In the rain. Willing to pay and pick up my sweet, pregnant self. Do I have my mugs yet? No. Do I know when I'll be getting my mugs? No. Here is the customer complain that I had to email instead of tell them BECAUSE THE CUNTS HUNG UP ON ME AFTER I HAD BEEN HOLDING FOREVER that sort-of explains why.

In which I'm all posh when I'm outraged )
In short, Royal Mail, you have officially the most bollocks Customer Service I've come across in years. No wonder you're going down the shitter. Frankly, I hope you go to the wall. No business that inept should be able to survive in today's climate. No business that inept deserves to survive. Closing at lunchtime? Cash only payments? You're not a fucking Bring & Buy stall! Fuck off and die. But first, bring my my godammed mugs!
r_scribbles: (H2G2 Advice)
This child will be the bloody death of me. She still has this weird bed-phobia, has been very difficult to get down to sleep at bedtime, up at the crack of dawn, and then refuses point blank to nap despite being visibly knackered for the last few days. After a hissy fit at Playgym, she passed out in her pushchair on the way home today for about 10 mins. I tried to carry her up to bed straight away. She woke up and screamed the house down. that was two hours ago. the proper attempt at nap time started an hour ago and she's still clonking about in her room, talking to her toys and pretending to play the trumpet. But every time I go upstairs she's suddenly, miraculously lying in bed. She keeps asking me to lie with her but I'm not getting into that habit of her needing one of us with her to fall asleep again.

She is a monkey.

may have to give up on naptime yet again in a bit, although she's then absolutely guaranteed to fall asleep in her pushchair this afternoon, only to wake up the moment we're in.

EDIT - everything went quiet just as I was about to submit defeat and get her up. Let her doze for an hour then woke her, causing an HOUR LONG tantrum. *Sigh*
r_scribbles: (false teeth)
OK, now why the Hell has Vi suddenly decided that she hates her bed? At what was supposed to be nap time today I came upstairs to check on her and found her lying, half asleep, on the floor next to her book box. All attempts to get her back into bed were met with horrified screams. I thought it might just be that she didn't want to nap today, but now that it's bedtime she keeps crying and leaping out as if it's a hot potato. All that's different is that I've changed the sheets, which I do every week.

*Sigh* It's been a long day.
r_scribbles: (Bollocks!)
Family Situation that reared its head on Sunday has worsened. After all the trouble trying to get people to talk out their problems like grown-ups, they have now apparently gone back to passing messages of demands, counter-demands, threats and counter-threats back and forth via my poor mother like FUCKING TEENAGERS.

I can definitely see relations going right back to the horrible, hostile, stressful ways they were when Dad died, and it's all over absolutely fucking NOTHING.

So pissed off right now. Pissed off and worried and dreading the years of stress ahead.

Not even F-Locking this bad boy. I'm wearing my anger on my sleeve right now.
r_scribbles: (ColAngst)
So, my recent Tweets might have given youse kids an idea as to why I haven't been around much this week... FYI if anybody's contemplating catching severe Gastroenteritis while 27 weeks with child, I can heartily recommend that you don't. Here's a fun fact-ette that my Doctor let me in on - when you're preggers, not only can you take NOTHING for any ailment you have, but also your natural defences automatically make protecting the foetus top priority - good news for rerun, not so good news for me. I just had to spend three days in bed trying - largely in vain - to keep fluids down and wondering if my barely existant immune system was ever going to fight off whatever it was that had turned my insides into an angry cement mixer. Oh - also, having a uterus that already stretches up to the bottom of your ribcage and has stretched and squished your guts as if they were in a funhouse mirror doesn't exactly make matters any more comfortable when you're trying desperately to keep half a pint of apple juice down.

Since I seem to have succeeded in keeping a moderate breakfast inside today and no longer have horrible stomach ache I am being cautiously optimistic about today... although I was cautiously optimistic about yesterday too, before I frustratingly nosedived back into shaky-sicky-cant-get-out-of-bed in the early evening.

Still feel very dizzy, very weak and not enthusiastic about eating. Don't expect any epic odes or charity funruns out of my any time soon.

It has been, all in all, a pretty shit week.
r_scribbles: (H2G2 Advice)

Today has been SUCH a Thursday. Arthur Dent would be proud. And it's not necessarily over despite Vi having gone to bed some time ago. She's already woken up, very upset, with a pooey bum once tonight.

I have done a lot of laundry. I am very tired. Vi has pretty much put herself on nil by mouth since this morning, bar half a piece of pitta and a few slurps of very diluted juice. I can tell that she's thirsty, but I think she's too frightened of throwing up again to drink anything now. I hate it when she's ill so very much - she's usually such a cheerful little girl, it's horrible to see her so miserable.

A few things have made me smile today, though. One was 'OMFG Magazine' (*points to earlier post*) and the other is the preview of the Family Guy TNG episode as posted by Mrs P and little Willy Wheaton, and as seen here. If any TNG fans haven't seen it yet, I advise that you do. It's brilliant. 'I'll have a hamburger. No! A cheeseburger. And a...' 'YOU'LL HAVE NOTHING AND YOU'LL LIKE IT!!!'
r_scribbles: (Bollocks!)
Ugh. Was tired and stressed by the time I went to bed anyway last night. The Parade Of Twats at God-Knows-What -Time in the night really didn't help - it was like an unending river of honking, braying, bawling, drunken fucks. Went on for about half an hour, and I slept very oddly after that. Then Violet was sick, at about 6.30 in the morning, so I spent a lot of the early morning cleaning that up. Decided to take her to playgroup for a bit to stop her just moping in front of the telly, but that was, of course, when whatever's upset her tummy went from being vacated from the front end to coming out of the back. Spent the majority of playgroup changing her nappy. She then passed out in the pushchair. She's in bed now, hopefully she'll have a nice, long doze and wake up feeling better. Nothing else we need to do today, thankfully, and I've bought a new desk fan in the hope of the white noise drowning out any more 2am crocodiles of fuckwits.

Oh, and we got rained on, too.

Not a great day, so far.

Due to lots of little jobs that needed to be done last night, plus various interruptions, we only managed to watch Monday's Stewart Lee last night and didn't get round to Charlie Brooker's new show. However, this clip gives me the feeling that it's going to be well worth catching up on.

I'm starting to wonder whether young Charlton might actually be the Second Coming. He's always right. ALWAYS!
r_scribbles: (Spaced Brian's angst)
Vi *still* not her old self, 24 hours after getting home. Only wants to eat dry, plain carbs (dry Rice Krispies for brekkie, a plain toasted pitta for lunch) and still very reluctant to drink anything, which is the main worry for me. She *has* had a couple of good drinks today, but still much less than she usually drinks and still goes through long phases of bursting into tears if I even offer her her cup. She's much sleepier than usual, but I don't know whether it's that she's sleepy so she won't eat or drink properly, or that her starving/dehydrating herself is making her drowzy. Poot.

Stressed. Always get very stressed out when Vi's ill, and worrying that this is going to start happening every time we go away. Can't concentrate to write, which is annoying, and I don't want to take her out this afternoon if she's poorly.

Any attempts to cheer poor FretfulMother!Scriblet would be much 'preciated. So far the only thing that's distracted me suitably today has been another of Peter Sarah-fanny-wedge's Twitter Games (today: Tired Actors. Didn't get retweeted, but I was still pleased with my offers of Kevin Achin', Gerard Deparduvet, Ovaltine Newton John and Matt LeBlanket.)

ADDENDUM - She has just wandered in from the front room, grabbed her cup and taken it back in with her. Possible good sign.
r_scribbles: (Quantum Leap - Shit!)
Massive pool of doggy diahorrea on the doorstep when returning from Playgroup this morning. Massive. Seriously, if your dog's got the shits that's a pity for you, but don't let them lay down a puddle of poop soup in a stranger's FREAKING DOORWAY! Good Lord, every day in every way I lose a little more faith in the ability of my fellow humans to have any semblence of thought or respect for others. As I mentioned on Twitter, I can at least take consolation that if the owners' doggy's got the runs, the poor mutt's probably sprayed their own house with shit already. Because at this moment in time I just want to seize control of government and bring in new laws that anybody caught not picking up after their pet will be tracked, followed home and have a tonne of slurry flung at their windows at three in the morning.

Right. Laundry, then bathroom cleaning, then washing up, then a few minutes of writing if I get time. A housewife's life is a glamourous one.
r_scribbles: (Venger - kids suck)
Ah-la-la, Playgym during half term. Stacked to the rafters and loads of kids that were really too old for it pegging around snatching toys and pushing the toddlers over. Again. And, again, I heard an F-Word from one of the likkle angels. BLESS. Also; a particularly large number of babies and toddlers with earrings. Nice.

I should be writing... actually no, I should be doing the washing up and then writing, but I'm still over-awed by my shiny, shiny new Twitter. Have learned it's a mistake to spend a couple of free minutes glancing through The Spine's back catalogue of Tweets as 15 minutes later I was still giggling at his horror at having to buy anti-snoring nasal strips in Large, his mild annoyance that the woman who usually stalks him at cons and asks him to sign her breasts not turning up to the last one he did ('maybe she won't have her breasts signed on the Sabbath'), his various deliberate misspellings of Wil Wheaton's name (my favourite was 'Wiiiiiiiiiil', which was, apparently, pronounced in the same manner as 'Khaaaaaaaan') and his musings on LaVar Burton's travels ('Maybe he wanted to buy some midwestern cheese'). Ah, The Spine. Less a Virtual Comedy Uncle (that position has been permanently filled by Sir Stephen of Fry), more a Virtual Housemate's Dad Who Turns Up To Help Her Move In And Then Embarrasses Her by Telling Lots Of Jokes To Her Friends.

Washing up. Definitely, definitely washing up.

r_scribbles: (Lost Benry - snap!)
Once upon a time there was a terrestrial TV channel called Channel 4, which bought the syndication rights to an interesting, aesthetically-pleasing weirdy-poo sort-of Sci-Fi show called Lost. It was one of those dramas with an ongoing story arc which relied heavily on unanswered mysteries and cliffhangers - the sort of thing that young Scribbles enjoys. The sort of thing that young Scribbles could easily get hooked on, and hooked she got. But then one day an evil Right Wing tyrant called Rupert Murdoch came and outbid Four for Lost, two series into its six series run. 'Oh well,' said Four, 'we'll just carry on making bollocks reality shows and programmes about moving house, and nobody will notice.'

But Scribbles liked the art of storytelling, and Scribbles preferred to know the resolution of a story she had invested two seasons in, but Scribbles could not, would not get Sky. So Scribbles turned to her old friend the internet. First there was Naughty Pirating, but then the Naughty Pirates turned into Spineless Snitches and started giving out the IPs of their downloaders to big bastard companies, and Scribbles' husband said that they should trust the pirates no more. Then Scribbles discovered that she could purchase Lost from iTunes, which, gleefully, she did.

But then the day came when the first episodes of the new series were up on iTunes, and Scribbles tried to purchase.
'But no,' said iTunes, 'for no reason you cannot buy this unless you have the brand new, shiny version of iTunes.'
'All right then,' said Scribbles, 'please may I have the brand new, shiny version of iTunes?'
'No,' said iTunes, 'for your Mac is now obsolete! Mwah ha ha!!!'
'How can you be obsolete?' asked Scribbles to her Mac. 'You're, what, six years old - seven, max? If you were a person you'd only be at Primary school. How is that obsolete?'
'Ah,' said the Mac, 'but you are forgetting, I was made by Apple, and everything made by Apple, no matter how expensive, is apparently as disposable as a Bic Biro. Did you learn nothing from the saga of the knackered iPod Mini? Too bad, baby. No South Pacific-set wibbley-wobbley-timey-wimey hijinks for you!'
'But Mac,' cried Scribbles, 'I thought you were cool! You were personified by weird-eyed David Mitchell in them adverts, and I like him.'
'No,' replied the Mac with an air of Maclike smugness, 'David Mitchell played the PC. I was personified by Robert Webb - the one you have an irrational dislike of.'
'But how does that work?' Scribbles enquired. 'Surely Apple, the comissioners of the ads, should have been aware that David Mitchell is the one that's actually cooler, and Robert Webb comes across as too self-aware and trying too hard, like a bit of a nob?'
'Look,' replied the Mac, 'it's just an advert, all right? I don't know why we're having this discussion anyway, I'm only a machine. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to spend the next ten minutes not being able to get any internet connection for no reason until you switch everything off and on again, like I do every evening.'
'Fair enough', Scribbles replied.

In short, I can't get S5 of Lost until Hubs finally gets round to hooking New Mac upstairs up to the intertubes, which will be next week at the earliest, so I'm afraid I'll have to ask for further Radio Silence on the old spoileroonies, oh FList of mine.

This has actually been the least of my woes today, what with a very broken night's sleep coupled with a cold leaving me utterly exhausted, and having to deal with a toddler who not only is still not keen on her new bed but also shares my cold and cut the first of her back molars today ("Grumpy" is not the word for it) and whatnot.

Still, I have done some writing. Unfortunately though, even though I should be working on either the Thrilling Conclusion to the New Adventures or the next installment of Rollercoaster, I have instead been writing the first chapter of the conclusion/sequel to Rollercoaster, which I'm miles and miles away from, plotwise. It's mainly because I've recently decided how I'm going to end it, and how I'm going to fit it around a certain incident at the end of the canon, and the bunnies were gnawing away. Hopefully the first chapter will sate them for now, and it does mean that I now have not one but two future points to work towards, since I started the story off with a future flash to the end of First Contact and have since then been working to wards that - now I have an end point to head for once I'm past old Borgybitch.

What a long entry! Clearly, I needed to vent. Carry on!
r_scribbles: (Blackadder Dickhead)
The Angry Rain God (let's call him Nigel) decided to spew forth a torrent of freezing rain upon me all morning. The ducks were having a whale of a time, since all of a sudden their river had spread nicely to encompass much of the riverbank and rather a lot of Sainsbury's car park, allowing them to paddle about a whole new watery world like a bunch of little ducky Columbuses (Columbi...?) Me - not so much. I got very wet and very cold. Add to that the fact that Vi has a streaming cold and I think I'm starting to come down with it too, so I wasn't in the greatest of moods this morning.

Then along came Pushy Playgym Mum - the 'get your baby out of the way' one that I had a run-in with last year, who made me quite literally CAPSLOCK WITH RAGE. In fact, that was the only way that I could rationalise my feelings in my own mind. Those specific words - capslock with rage. I think I may spend too much time on the intartubes. Anyhoo, she introduced herself to me with the line 'My daughter's having a go on that car after your daughter is, yeah? Because they're for everybody to share, not just for one or two kids to keep hold of all the time' without apparently noticing a, the paradoxical nature of her statement or b, the fact that I was already trying to cajole Vi out of the car she was playing with since I was aware she'd been on it a while and other kids were waiting. In retrospect it might have been a passive-aggressive swipe at one of the mums of the other kids in the cars, since I'd noticed her kid get into some fisticuffs over another car shortly before, but that's beside the point. There's no way that I was going to stop other children besides her kid getting in it after Vi, so I assumed the only point of her speech was, in essence, 'get your baby out of the way'. All it did was royally put my back up and stress me out, since Vi was still ignoring my suggestions that she play elsewhere and now I had this ugly bitch breathing down my neck. In the end I pulled Violet out of the car - she'd been in it for her fair share anyway, but I wanted to get the Hell away from that woman. And then Pushy Mum was all 'Oh, you don't have to get her out of it *now*!' I told her curtly that Vi had been in it for ages, but that wasn't the point. The point was that now, her kid had run off to play with something else. As I walked away, she physically had hold of the car and was refusing to let any toddlers play with it as she tried to attract her kid's attention. i later caught her taking a badminton raquet off a little girl. Bitch. CAPSLOCK BITCH.

Anyway. It's stopped raining now, and it's Saturday tomorrow. I am still(!) doing my character plotting notes for the last New Adventure - Done all of The Seven now and it's already over 4 pages long. Just Venger and pretty much every guest character that's been in the New Adventures left, then. Oy, this is massive. Have also been writing a teensy bit of the ending to Rollercoaster... not that I'm anywhere near the end yet, I've just been thinking a lot about how I'm going to end it lately, and the bunnies need a carrot.

Had epic dreams last night - one involved a big Sleb networking function where I successfully pitched The Specials but when the guy who wanted to read the script gave me his number I couldn't get my phone to store it. Then I had another dream where I wrote about the first dream on LJ. I really am spending too much time on the internet, aren't I?
r_scribbles: (Penguin)
Yesterday was a very, very Thursdayish sort of a Thursday. Allow me to share my pain with you in list format:

1, Began the day imitating a mid-90s pop song by being rudely awakened by the dustmen, at about 7am. There should really be a law against noisily collecting rubbish before the hours of daylight.

2, Awoke with a vague, annoying headache that stayed with me all day.

3, Remained exhausted all day, for no real reason.

4, Got a phone call at 5.30 (when hubs is usually home) saying he was caught in traffic and would probably be another 45 minutes.

5, 45 minutes later, at 6.15, hubs was very much not home.

6, Was starting to worry by quarter to 7. When hubs finally got in at ten to, I was utterly knackered and randomly furious without actually having anything to vent it on.

7, attempted to make cakes for the party tomorrow once Vi had gone to bed. My hand mixer decided to break half way through doing the cake mix. Planned on buying a new mixer today and doing the icing tonight but hubs declared the mixer fixed, so I attempted the icing. Mixer gave up after approximately half a second of mixing, but since I already had all the ingredients in the bowl I had to carry on. Ended up making the icing by hand - a lot of stirring. The icing may be slightly lumpy tomorrow :(

8, That done, Hubs and I spent 5 minutes turning over the living room to find the TV remote only to find it in the place it always was, only covered with a book. Perfect.

Today is being much more Fridayish, however. Violet has come out with several new sayings today ('Hello', as well as 'very very hot' and 'very very cold') and my Ma and Sis are down tonight.

Plus - don't faint - I've been working on Zombie Dad and it's very nearly finished!

Oh, plus a big weight has been lifted from all of our minds yesterday. I haven't felt comfortable blogging about it (and still don't) since it involved legal shenanigans, but one of my extended family has been going through a really horrible time of it recently but yesterday found out that (legally, it least) it wasn't going any further. I had been very worried about her, and she'd obviously been finding it very upsetting. But it's done with now.

November 2013

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