Yesterday was Friday and tomorrow is Monday
Most of the time I know what I am doing.
Most of the time I know where I am.
Rarely do I know when I am.
This seems to be a problem in this household. We keep getting confused as to what day of the week it is. In fact, I had to buy a watch especially. I like analogue watches, because I have always used them. I hate digital watches. So I have an analogue watch with a digital display on it that shows me the date, and more importantly the day.
Yesterday, I received an email from one of my probation officers. He wanted a report [for the courts or something], and he wanted it urgently. I wrote back and said I was busy [because you can’t let these people boss you around]. I said I would do it over the weekend and would have it for him by Monday.
Then I realised that it was Tuesday and not Friday, and I had to write back and apologise. And I hate apologising to probation officers. It upsets the natural pecking order.
With one thing and another, things are a bit hectic here at the moment. Gone are the glory days when I could relax and surf around the blogs, not leaving comments on them [yes – I’m a lurker]. Gone are the days where I could have a reply for everyone who commented.
You see, I suddenly have a whole load of things to do on the work front, and it is annoying me. My fuckwads customers punters clients keep changing the goal posts and they suddenly want everything yesterday [having been quite happy and quiet for most of the year].
All I want to do now is take a nap. But I can’t because I have so much to do. And anyway those b*st*rds next door are making too much noise.
So if I’m a bit erratic with my postings in the future, or if I don’t reply to all your comments, I’m sorry.
I’m tired.
I’m weary.
God help me if the battery in my watch dies.
Probation officers? At your age? Surely it’s not the day you’ve got wrong, it’s the year? Or are they a result of your last rather-too-successful Tourist Elimination scheme?
Some legal technicality from years ago. You know how it goes – you get on their books and you can’t get off. He’s not a bad bloke. We go hunting together from time to time.
Of course they want it yesterday – it was due today and you’re living in tomorrow.
Frankly, just at the moment I’m not sure where I’m living…
Wait a minute. If it’s Wednesday then this must be Pittsburgh.
I’m so confused. Are we talking about Tuesday or Cleveland?
Saturday, I think. As long as it’s not Uranus.
Ah they changed that joke … it’s Urrectum now.
And don’t leave us without your *insert token compliment here* for a whole … how long are you gone for?
Ursphincter?
As long as it takes, Daz. As long as it takes.
Ahh poor Grandad, the utter cheek of them upsetting you like that. Why don’t you call the Garda and tell them you suspect your neighbours are selling drugs and are possibly harboring well known criminals. It won’t solve the noise problem or work load but will bring immense amusement when the Garda ambush them. Take Care!
Thank you Nonny for a bit of genuine sympathy. Other readers please note….
Actually, I’m waiting until the building is finished. Then I’m going to tip off the Garda about the suspected body buried underneath. It doesn’t stop the noise, but the anticipation is worth it…