I'm going to have to conquer my awful sleep patterns tonight, because I have to get up early to let various workmen into my home. I thought it would be clever to arrange for them all to visit on the same day, but it turns out none of them can be in the house if another work man is already there (They claim it's for insurance reasons, but I think they just hate each other) so I've had to stagger them throughout the day.

One of the men who's coming is a pest control man, about the mice problem I'm always whining about. I have absolutely no idea what he'll do though, other than block up holes and stuff; will he make beautiful music on a flute, luring all the mice from their daytime slumber, only to shoot them all with a tiny paintball gun? Will he somehow cause civil unrest amongst the mice community, causing them all to fight to the bloody death? Seriously, I have no idea.

A year of sleeping 15 hours each day has finally took it's toll on my body, and after wussing out of joining the gym again (I'm too shy to sign up on my own and all my "friends" think this is hilarious so won't go with me) I got out a work out DVD me and Kat bought last summer, used once and then actively ignored. I managed to do the whole thing, but the carpet in front of the TV is drenched with sweat and I'm in incredible pain. Speaking of incredible pain, I had another massage today; I find massages really excruciatingly painful, but insist on paying money for them anyway for reasons I've never fully understood.

I visited my nephew (he's two) yesterday and he's learned to say "Bicky" which is very cute. He can also say "Flipping heck!" and pats fat people's tummys and says "Baby!" I enjoyed that a lot but mainly because it wasn't my tummy he was patting.

Thursday, January 08, 2009

Like most people who blog, I can't sleep. This is a diary of my insomnia.

9.30 - 11.00 - Huddled up on the sofa worrying about the least worrying problem I have.

11.00 - 11.15- Watched GemsTV online. I thought about buying a zultanite; not because they're particularly good looking, but the man made them sound cool.

11.15 - 12.00 - More worrying.

12.00 - 12.10 - Amazed at how the mice that live in my kitchen managed to poop in ALL of the mixing bowls. Washed the one that smelt the least.

12.10 - 12.40 - Cooked some double chocolate chunk muffins from a packet. They smell nice. Hope the mice don't eat them, or poop on them.

12.40 - 1.00 - Facebook. Made the mistake of commenting on someone's status; 17 notifications later, other people eventually stop commenting on it too.

1.00 - 1.05 - Got into bed. Rolled about a bit. Turned on computer again.

1.05 - 1.30 - Researched obscure illnesses online, and decided I have them all.

1.30 - 1.55 - Watched Sugar Rush on 4OD. Being a lesbian looks hard work.

1.55 - 2.15 - Complained to people on msn about how I can't sleep.

2.15 - 2.45 - Found a picture to put at top of blog post. Changed my Speed Dial to include Grooveshark.

2.45 - 3.09 - Blogging, slowly. Keep on cracking my toes.

I'm bloody bored, to be honest. I got used to working every day over Christmas and now I'm faced with a month of working 6 hours a week before college starts again I'm bored stiff. I nap a lot during the day, hence why I'm so irritatingly perky and awake in the early hours.

I still haven't found a good way of going to sleep; it's never really a problem I've had before last year. I sometimes listen to a meditation cd, but the only reason it works is because it's so incredibly boring. "Think about your toes. What do they feel? What do they think? Breathe into your toes. Breathe out from your toes. How do they feel now?"

I have a strong urge to read Enid Blyton books.


I work in a mid market jewellers. During the festive season, we're rather busy. All the people who never venture out their front door for the other 11 months of the year crawl out of the holes where they must live and try and buy earrings from me.

To be honest, most of my customers are lovely; I served one elderly couple last week who were almost teary eyed with gratitude when I sold them insurance, of all things. I've just had some absolute jerkwads over Christmas, and it's time to rant about them.

I was serving a man and his two young sons. He was already being grumpy with me because he'd had to wait to be served; a common theme with customers who come shopping the week before Christmas. I was putting his transaction through the till and trying to make awkward conversation with a very arsey man when his card is declined. This happens quite a bit at Christmas, and it's not a big deal; usually it just takes a few more attempts and it'll go through with no problems; the card machines probably just get a bit over worked or something. After two more attempts, it still doesn't work; Arsey man's heckles rise further. We're chit-chatting politely, but every word is dripping with distain for the other.

I ask to have a look at his card and he throws it at me. It's absolutely mangled; loads of scratches, and what looks like teeth marks along one side. I swipe his card and as he's signing the receipt, I suggest, "You might want to have the card looked at Sir; it looks pretty worn."

Arsey man practically spits at me. "You're just doing this on purpose!" he spat accross the counter. "I swear down that if I go into any other shop, it'll work just fine."

"Sir, I'm really not doing this on purp..."

"Quality of service here is appalling! First you make me wait, then this!"

"Sir, your card looks like it's been chewed on by a large dog. Have a good day."

--

I've discovered that if I wear pigtails to work, I attract lots of unwanted attention from disgusting old men. On the other hand, if I wear glasses and put my hair up, I attract rich customers. On this particular day I was wearing bunches.

I was serving a bent old men, who'd been chatting away quite happily to me. He was quite cheeky, but just in an eye-rollingly annoying way. I bent over to get a carrier bag for him, and he stares mesmerised at my ass, rubs his hands together in glee and suddenly asks, "How much is it to get up there, love?"

I pretended I hadn't heard him and hid behind the repair desk for a while, rocking back and forth.

--

On a particularly busy day, the next person in my queue were two ladies; probably a mother and a daughter. The mother was the atypical sweet old lady, and the daugher was a crazy middle aged phycho. She had a thin face, pointly glasses and a fur coat. She crossly beckoned me over and pointed at some earrings. "And I presume I get 20% off these?"

I shook my head. "No, sorry," I explained. "Only the products with the red labels are in the sale."

She looked absolutely aghast. "But everywhere else is giving me 20% off!"

At this point, the floor controller chipped in with, "Well, you'll have to shop there then!"

Clearly taken aback, the phycho woman looks put out for a moment, then her eyebrows knit with evil once again. "I want to have a closer look at them" she says, and points somewhere towards the earring display.

I open the cabinet, get the earrings out and turn round to discover she's marched to the other end of the shop and sat down. I follow her and show her the earrings. She doesn't really look at them. "I'll get 20% off these," she says again, with determination. I'm getting quite frustrated by this point.

"No, you don't. These aren't in the sale," I say.

"Then your signs are misleading! I know my rights!" she cries.

There are no signs at all that say anything of the sort. "Which sign are you talking about, sorry?" I ask. She points somewhere behind her. "The 0% apr on storecards sign?" I ask.

She looks around more carefully, and settles on her sign of choice. "That one!" she said. "The one that says 20% off!"

I read the sign out very slowly. "Get a £25 voucher when you spend over £25?"

"Very misleading. I'd like 20% off."

"I'm very sorry, but no."

At this point her mother pipes up with, "They're very pretty earrings though! I like rose gold." Phycho lady storms off. I crack up laughing.