***EDITED BELOW***
Just so you know, the oven DOES still work, but (despite cleaning) smells kind of weird. Burnt, charred, what you will.
So.
I'm waiting, on absolute tenterhooks.
Every day brings a new round of nasty letters - direct debits that have been refused (tax office, loans, internet connection, mobile phone, mortgage), threats of being blackballed from all French financial institutions for the next 5 years, bla, bla, bla - and I now dread the arrival of the postman. When he actually rings the doorbell, I don't answer (if he rings it means he has registered mail or a parcel; I'm not expecting any parcels and don't want to know about any registered mail. It can only be bad news).
I'm not allowed to use either of my credit cards (private account, professional account), even though my professional account is only (as I write) € 42 overdrawn.
The credit regroupment place can't put my dossier through (the dossier that would group all my current loan repayments into one single (and lower) payment, spread over more time) because I need to either get my dad to send me some papers showing I can in fact repay D. the money he put into buying the flat, or include D. in the dossier (as co-owner of the flat) and be rejected outright because of his even more precarious financial status.
I have asked my dad to send me the documents I need, but am too embarrassed to say a) why I need them (I've said it's for the solicitor so I can get the repayment crap under way. This isn't a total lie, just not the whole truth either) and b) how damn urgently I need them. So he's dragging his feet, being old and dithery. Not his fault, I know, but annoying as hell.
The Science University owes me € 1,200 (for first semester teaching), promised at the end of January but most likely not going to appear till the end of March. One translation client owes me € 1,400 (invoices dated October 2011, for work done essentially in August and September), another owes me € 1,500. Many other clients owe me smaller sums of money.
And no one. Absolutely NO ONE is paying me anything.
My finances are about to implode, I'm stressed beyond belief and totally distraught at the idea that I do so much work, paid at decent rates (in theory) yet remain so precarious. I can't do grocery shopping - no credit cards - so have to go to my local Spar and buy (over-priced) stuff every other day or so using the cash my dad gave me at Christmas. I can't do anything, go anywhere.
This situation is killing me. It's so fucking unfair. I HAVE the money - on other people's acounts. And they aren't paying. I've accepted a monster translation job (and have no idea how on earth I'm going to manage to get the work done) just because it'll pay a huge amount of money, hopefully in four installments, starting mid-March. I could probably clear just about all my debts (apart from the money I owe D., I mean) if people actually paid me.
Instead, I'm going to have problems with my mortgage, the tax office and various other establishments because my direct debits aren't going through. My internet connection will be cut off, my fax already has been.
Fuck 2012.
***EDITED TO ADD***
Just got off the phone with my dad and he's going to try and scan and email the documents I need tomorrow morning (bearing in mind he's never scanned and attached a document to an email in his life), so maybe things will start to happen at last... Fingers crossed!
Rechercher dans ce blog
lundi 20 février 2012
mercredi 15 février 2012
PSA
I don't usually give out a lot of advice here (I'm more of a moan-and-whine type, I guess). But I'm going to break with tradition today.
This advice is directed at those of you who are:
a) not in top form mentally right now (be it because you're over-tired, under the weather, depressed, on drugs, whatever)
b) not great cooks and
c) owners of small, worktop-sized ovens with a grill function for which you need to select "grill" or "oven" function manually
The advice:
If you use the "oven" function more often than the "grill" function, it might be a good idea to automatically return the button to the "oven" setting after making grilled cheese.
If you don't, one possible scenario is as follows:
a) whilst already running late for lunchtime, you pull a frozen mushroom pie out of the freezer and set the "oven" to heat up for the required 10 minutes;
b) you then place said mushroom pie in the oven, on the now-hot tray and set the timer for the required 30 minutes;
c) you go away and do something else, not paying any particular attention to the increasingly unpleasant burning smell for a good 20 minutes or so;
d) you eventually wander back into the kitchen and observe, rather casually as it would happen, that the aforementioned burning smell is considerably more unpleasant here than in your office;
e) you check out on the balcony (because of course, your first reaction is that the smell must be coming from outside, even though there are no open windows because it's ARCTIC out there);
f) you finally decide that maybe there's a problem with your yummy mushroom pie and go and have a look through the glass door;
g) you notice that the pie, though theoretically not yet fully cooked, is alarmingly BLACK and COAL-LIKE on the surface;
h) you open the oven door and observe pretty much critical (i.e. inedible) damage;
i) to confirm this observation, said pie then rather spectacularly BURSTS INTO FLAMES;
j) your almost 8-year-old daughter appears and starts shrieking about calling the fire brigade;
k) whilst keen to put an end to this culinary disaster and potentially dangerous situation, you are torn by the thought of the humiliation involved in bringing the fire brigade in;
l) you suddenly remember that fires need oxygen, so you close the oven door again;
m) the flames mercifully die out;
n) your already-late-to-start-with lunch is now dead (practically fossilised, actually) and you have no idea what the hell else you can cook because you will scream if you have to eat either pasta or rice again;
o) you end up eating a plate of boiled peas and carrots at almost 3 pm with about as much enthusiasm as you can imagine because there really is NOTHNG else;
p) as you try to remove the now-cold-but-still-charcoaled pie from the oven, it of course (being totally raw underneath) falls apart in your hands and splatters mushroomy goo and puff pastry charcoal chunks all over the inside of the disturbingly brown oven and the floor.
It really would be so much simpler if I just remembered to put the button back to "oven".
Not that this is a real story or anything, but you know. Just in case...
This advice is directed at those of you who are:
a) not in top form mentally right now (be it because you're over-tired, under the weather, depressed, on drugs, whatever)
b) not great cooks and
c) owners of small, worktop-sized ovens with a grill function for which you need to select "grill" or "oven" function manually
The advice:
If you use the "oven" function more often than the "grill" function, it might be a good idea to automatically return the button to the "oven" setting after making grilled cheese.
If you don't, one possible scenario is as follows:
a) whilst already running late for lunchtime, you pull a frozen mushroom pie out of the freezer and set the "oven" to heat up for the required 10 minutes;
b) you then place said mushroom pie in the oven, on the now-hot tray and set the timer for the required 30 minutes;
c) you go away and do something else, not paying any particular attention to the increasingly unpleasant burning smell for a good 20 minutes or so;
d) you eventually wander back into the kitchen and observe, rather casually as it would happen, that the aforementioned burning smell is considerably more unpleasant here than in your office;
e) you check out on the balcony (because of course, your first reaction is that the smell must be coming from outside, even though there are no open windows because it's ARCTIC out there);
f) you finally decide that maybe there's a problem with your yummy mushroom pie and go and have a look through the glass door;
g) you notice that the pie, though theoretically not yet fully cooked, is alarmingly BLACK and COAL-LIKE on the surface;
h) you open the oven door and observe pretty much critical (i.e. inedible) damage;
i) to confirm this observation, said pie then rather spectacularly BURSTS INTO FLAMES;
j) your almost 8-year-old daughter appears and starts shrieking about calling the fire brigade;
k) whilst keen to put an end to this culinary disaster and potentially dangerous situation, you are torn by the thought of the humiliation involved in bringing the fire brigade in;
l) you suddenly remember that fires need oxygen, so you close the oven door again;
m) the flames mercifully die out;
n) your already-late-to-start-with lunch is now dead (practically fossilised, actually) and you have no idea what the hell else you can cook because you will scream if you have to eat either pasta or rice again;
o) you end up eating a plate of boiled peas and carrots at almost 3 pm with about as much enthusiasm as you can imagine because there really is NOTHNG else;
p) as you try to remove the now-cold-but-still-charcoaled pie from the oven, it of course (being totally raw underneath) falls apart in your hands and splatters mushroomy goo and puff pastry charcoal chunks all over the inside of the disturbingly brown oven and the floor.
It really would be so much simpler if I just remembered to put the button back to "oven".
Not that this is a real story or anything, but you know. Just in case...
mardi 14 février 2012
St Valen-effing-tine's Day
Seriously, I think I need a Nobel Prize. No, actually. Scratch that. What I NEED is the millions that go with it. I DESERVE the Nobel Prize.
I mean, here I am. Totally unfunded (understatement of the year) yet still managing to develop totally sound, totally innovative theories about life. Genius, that's what this is...
So. My latest theory.
Tomorrow is a day that I have loathed for way more years than I've liked it. Yup, St Valentine's Day. It was fun for probably 13 years, and crap for all the others, so I'm not hopeful about tomorrow.
Seeing everything all lovey-dovey-fied on the Internet in the last few weeks set me to thinking about love and relationships and the like. Because OF COURSE I'm an expert.
Let's back up a bit, to my glorious youth. First off, it was far from glorious. Really. My youth can pretty much be summed up in 10 words: submissive, unrebellious, got good grades at school, totally missed out. I was invisible to everyone but my teachers. My parents had no clue as to what kind of person I was. I was never asked out on a date, never went on a date, never had a date to the hideous school dances (the British equivalent of the Prom) I had to go to. I had male friends, but that was it. No romance at all. And never a single Valentine, naturally.
I left high school and went away to a university as far from home as I dared, without realising that I'd actually chosen the most English university in Scotland, almost entirely peopled with kids from the same area that I had just left. *sigh*.
I made friends, plenty of friends in fact, and many of them remain close friends even today. But I was still wholly invisible as a potential "date". My male acquaintances (not friends) used me as a means of making contact with my eminently desirable room-mate. My male friends confided in me. So, once again, never asked out on a date, never accompanied to dances or whatever. Just a few very dissatisfying (and, let's be honest, frequently humiliating) one-night stands as a result of drunken shenanigans. Hmmm.
Things only slightly improved on moving to France after graduation (don't worry, I'm getting to my theory, honest), but not much till 1996, when I hooked up with my now ex-partner. We were together for 14 years (I'm clearly and all-or-nothing type) and pretty happy together for most of that time.
And now, well, I'm back to the "nothing" part again. And this is where my theory kicks in. The longer I spend alone - truly alone in a relationshippy sense of the word - the more I realise that I don't actually want to share my life with someone any more. I like being able to eat porridge at 4 am, stay up all night watching Mad Men on DVD and drool over Don Draper. I like being able to get away with not doing any housework for weeks on end. None of that (and more like it) would be possible if I had to share this home with someone else.
What I DO crave, however, is a date. Somone to make me feel special, make me feel safe, loved. Someone to take the strain when it all gets too much for me (like right now, for example) Someone with their own home, their own income, their own life, but still time for me.
So my theory is this: the longer you're single, particularly if the singledom is involuntary and a source of pain and/or anger, the less likely you are to want to go down the coupledom path again. And the more likely you are to want just casual flings. You really do get used to being alone, and the idea of having to go through all the compromise crap again is just horrible. I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it. I'm pretty sure there isn't a man on earth capable of putting up with me on a permanent basis (hell, I can barely put up with me...). Not even Johnny Depp.
The problem with this theory is that my pitiful "casual fling" and dating history makes it highly likely that this whole subject is a moot point. I'm more than likely never going to have any contact with a man ever again. Dating sites are out of the question - I don't want to meet "the perfect mate" or whatever vomit-inducing phrase these sites use. I also don't want to "pick up guys" (I never managed that when I was young, I certainly wouldn't now. And don't want to. Really.) So there's no solution. Well, other than having Johnny Depp just turn up on my doorstep and whisk me off on a hot, no-strings-attached date, that is.
The Shadoks claim that if there's no solution, there's no problem, but I disagree. This is, for me, a very real problem. I would very much like the company of an attractive, solvent, sane man (can you tell I've been burned?). Just not one that lives in my home or thinks I'm weird for eating porridge at 4 am. I would love to have a nice, attractive man wrap his arms around me and tell me all my troubles will disappear, but I don't want to be in a couple. I love my independence, I hate my loneliness.
Maybe a toy boy is the solution, but I doubt it. Really young men truly don't do it for me (remember, I teach students, so I see plenty of young men and they are like aliens to me - undesirable aliens) and I'm pretty much the anti-cougar (no seductive talents AT ALL).
So what can I do? Drool over Don Draper and Dr McDreamy? (Actually, McDreamy doesn't do it for me either; sometimes I prefer Dr Karev, sometimes I prefer Denny (except for the fact that he died)...) Wait for Johnny to split definitively from Vanessa (and make the leap of faith required to end up with me)? Live vicariously through others? Give up?
Clearly, the last solution is the easiest to put into action. But also the most depressing. Which is why I'm approaching tomorrow (actually, today now) with rocks in my heart and lead in my soul.
St Valen-effing-tine's Day.
Sod it.
Remind me to let the Nobel boys have my bank details. That money would at least keep the hounds from the door...
I mean, here I am. Totally unfunded (understatement of the year) yet still managing to develop totally sound, totally innovative theories about life. Genius, that's what this is...
So. My latest theory.
Tomorrow is a day that I have loathed for way more years than I've liked it. Yup, St Valentine's Day. It was fun for probably 13 years, and crap for all the others, so I'm not hopeful about tomorrow.
Seeing everything all lovey-dovey-fied on the Internet in the last few weeks set me to thinking about love and relationships and the like. Because OF COURSE I'm an expert.
Let's back up a bit, to my glorious youth. First off, it was far from glorious. Really. My youth can pretty much be summed up in 10 words: submissive, unrebellious, got good grades at school, totally missed out. I was invisible to everyone but my teachers. My parents had no clue as to what kind of person I was. I was never asked out on a date, never went on a date, never had a date to the hideous school dances (the British equivalent of the Prom) I had to go to. I had male friends, but that was it. No romance at all. And never a single Valentine, naturally.
I left high school and went away to a university as far from home as I dared, without realising that I'd actually chosen the most English university in Scotland, almost entirely peopled with kids from the same area that I had just left. *sigh*.
I made friends, plenty of friends in fact, and many of them remain close friends even today. But I was still wholly invisible as a potential "date". My male acquaintances (not friends) used me as a means of making contact with my eminently desirable room-mate. My male friends confided in me. So, once again, never asked out on a date, never accompanied to dances or whatever. Just a few very dissatisfying (and, let's be honest, frequently humiliating) one-night stands as a result of drunken shenanigans. Hmmm.
Things only slightly improved on moving to France after graduation (don't worry, I'm getting to my theory, honest), but not much till 1996, when I hooked up with my now ex-partner. We were together for 14 years (I'm clearly and all-or-nothing type) and pretty happy together for most of that time.
And now, well, I'm back to the "nothing" part again. And this is where my theory kicks in. The longer I spend alone - truly alone in a relationshippy sense of the word - the more I realise that I don't actually want to share my life with someone any more. I like being able to eat porridge at 4 am, stay up all night watching Mad Men on DVD and drool over Don Draper. I like being able to get away with not doing any housework for weeks on end. None of that (and more like it) would be possible if I had to share this home with someone else.
What I DO crave, however, is a date. Somone to make me feel special, make me feel safe, loved. Someone to take the strain when it all gets too much for me (like right now, for example) Someone with their own home, their own income, their own life, but still time for me.
So my theory is this: the longer you're single, particularly if the singledom is involuntary and a source of pain and/or anger, the less likely you are to want to go down the coupledom path again. And the more likely you are to want just casual flings. You really do get used to being alone, and the idea of having to go through all the compromise crap again is just horrible. I'm pretty sure I couldn't do it. I'm pretty sure there isn't a man on earth capable of putting up with me on a permanent basis (hell, I can barely put up with me...). Not even Johnny Depp.
The problem with this theory is that my pitiful "casual fling" and dating history makes it highly likely that this whole subject is a moot point. I'm more than likely never going to have any contact with a man ever again. Dating sites are out of the question - I don't want to meet "the perfect mate" or whatever vomit-inducing phrase these sites use. I also don't want to "pick up guys" (I never managed that when I was young, I certainly wouldn't now. And don't want to. Really.) So there's no solution. Well, other than having Johnny Depp just turn up on my doorstep and whisk me off on a hot, no-strings-attached date, that is.
The Shadoks claim that if there's no solution, there's no problem, but I disagree. This is, for me, a very real problem. I would very much like the company of an attractive, solvent, sane man (can you tell I've been burned?). Just not one that lives in my home or thinks I'm weird for eating porridge at 4 am. I would love to have a nice, attractive man wrap his arms around me and tell me all my troubles will disappear, but I don't want to be in a couple. I love my independence, I hate my loneliness.
Maybe a toy boy is the solution, but I doubt it. Really young men truly don't do it for me (remember, I teach students, so I see plenty of young men and they are like aliens to me - undesirable aliens) and I'm pretty much the anti-cougar (no seductive talents AT ALL).
So what can I do? Drool over Don Draper and Dr McDreamy? (Actually, McDreamy doesn't do it for me either; sometimes I prefer Dr Karev, sometimes I prefer Denny (except for the fact that he died)...) Wait for Johnny to split definitively from Vanessa (and make the leap of faith required to end up with me)? Live vicariously through others? Give up?
Clearly, the last solution is the easiest to put into action. But also the most depressing. Which is why I'm approaching tomorrow (actually, today now) with rocks in my heart and lead in my soul.
St Valen-effing-tine's Day.
Sod it.
Remind me to let the Nobel boys have my bank details. That money would at least keep the hounds from the door...
lundi 30 janvier 2012
Gosh
Gosh. Wow. Really? I haven't posted here in over three weeks? Wow.
That must be a record, even for me...
I guess you're assuming that either my life has been so fun-filled that I haven't had time to post, what with all those dates with Johnny Depp and trips to Aruba and the like, or that I've been so depressed that I've finally pulled the trigger or started mainlining vodka.
Well, truth be told, neither of those is true. Not even remotely, actually (especially the Johnny Depp/Aruba part).
In reality, I couldn't really tell you exactly what's been going on. I seem to have been pretty busy, but (unsurprisingly) don't have a great deal to show for it. I feel like I've worked my arse off, but can't seem to find much evidence of that either. And I certainly haven't done anything in the way of cleaning or tidying.
It's a bit of a mystery, actually.
Talking of which (nice segue there, did you notice?)...
I stupidly sat up late last night (nothing unusual in that... I'm rarely in bed before 2 am), pretty much glued to the sofa, watching a pretty crappy mystery-whodunnit film, "Mindhunters". Holy shit was that a mistake!
Yes, the film is (deeply) flawed; it's predictable and unbelievable. The characters aren't particularly engaging and the "surprise" ending really isn't much of a surprise. The parallels with Agatha Christie's "10 little Indians" are obvious, but the film doesn't (unlike Christie) "go all the way".
But that doesn't stop it from being utterly terrifying. Sitting there, alone on the sofa (apart from the cat, but what help would he be if a demented killer burst into my home?), I was transfixed, unable to just get up and turn it off. I knew I'd have trouble sleeping, but I just couldn't stop watching.
It's a total anxiety and stress fest, pretty much entirely filmed in the dark. Unspeakable things happen to certain characters. The "whodunnit" part isn't particularly difficult to figure out, but even so. The hows and whens and whys keep you on your toes.
I eventually managed to get to bed (after double-checking the front door) and almost slept with the light on. Maybe I should have, because I ended up jittery and restless, tossing and turning, freaked out by scary dreams. For probably the first time ever, I was actually glad when my alarm clock rang.
I've never been a fan of horror films, and didn't think this film was going to be so scary. Actually, I didn't realise it was film at all. I thought - from the title given here ("Profession profiler") I thought it was going to be a police procedural TV show, like CSI or something. If I'd known that it was a film (and if I'd read the synopsis) I wouldn't have watched it at all.
And now, I can't un-see it. I'm going to have to watch something very light and fluffy and mindless this evening - a musical, no doubt - to try and get the horror out of my mind before I go to bed.
There are so many ways in which being single sucks. And not having someone there to give moral support when you watch a crappy, scary film late at night is now another one to add to the list...
That must be a record, even for me...
I guess you're assuming that either my life has been so fun-filled that I haven't had time to post, what with all those dates with Johnny Depp and trips to Aruba and the like, or that I've been so depressed that I've finally pulled the trigger or started mainlining vodka.
Well, truth be told, neither of those is true. Not even remotely, actually (especially the Johnny Depp/Aruba part).
In reality, I couldn't really tell you exactly what's been going on. I seem to have been pretty busy, but (unsurprisingly) don't have a great deal to show for it. I feel like I've worked my arse off, but can't seem to find much evidence of that either. And I certainly haven't done anything in the way of cleaning or tidying.
It's a bit of a mystery, actually.
Talking of which (nice segue there, did you notice?)...
I stupidly sat up late last night (nothing unusual in that... I'm rarely in bed before 2 am), pretty much glued to the sofa, watching a pretty crappy mystery-whodunnit film, "Mindhunters". Holy shit was that a mistake!
Yes, the film is (deeply) flawed; it's predictable and unbelievable. The characters aren't particularly engaging and the "surprise" ending really isn't much of a surprise. The parallels with Agatha Christie's "10 little Indians" are obvious, but the film doesn't (unlike Christie) "go all the way".
But that doesn't stop it from being utterly terrifying. Sitting there, alone on the sofa (apart from the cat, but what help would he be if a demented killer burst into my home?), I was transfixed, unable to just get up and turn it off. I knew I'd have trouble sleeping, but I just couldn't stop watching.
It's a total anxiety and stress fest, pretty much entirely filmed in the dark. Unspeakable things happen to certain characters. The "whodunnit" part isn't particularly difficult to figure out, but even so. The hows and whens and whys keep you on your toes.
I eventually managed to get to bed (after double-checking the front door) and almost slept with the light on. Maybe I should have, because I ended up jittery and restless, tossing and turning, freaked out by scary dreams. For probably the first time ever, I was actually glad when my alarm clock rang.
I've never been a fan of horror films, and didn't think this film was going to be so scary. Actually, I didn't realise it was film at all. I thought - from the title given here ("Profession profiler") I thought it was going to be a police procedural TV show, like CSI or something. If I'd known that it was a film (and if I'd read the synopsis) I wouldn't have watched it at all.
And now, I can't un-see it. I'm going to have to watch something very light and fluffy and mindless this evening - a musical, no doubt - to try and get the horror out of my mind before I go to bed.
There are so many ways in which being single sucks. And not having someone there to give moral support when you watch a crappy, scary film late at night is now another one to add to the list...
vendredi 6 janvier 2012
It's the little things
It isn't really a "little thing". It certainly doesn't feel like one, it feels like a huge, enormous thing. This evening, on three separate occasions, my dear, sweet C (who turned 10 at the end of December and is suddenly so very much not a little kid any more) said that, if she and L don't have their Sunday School class this week (it's alternate weeks, I'm not involved - D is the churchgoer - and just can't keep track of which week they have it, which they don't), she wants to spend the day with me and "do something with me". My heart melted, it truly did. She's often affectionate, and she still loves getting hugs and cuddles and kisses, but she's rarely (maybe never) shown such a keen interest in spending time with me just for the sake of being with me. I mean, if I propose something (not necessarily anything wild - it could just be making Christmas cookies together) and she wants to do that, then she wants to spend time with me. But this is different. She wants to spend time with me, pretty much regardless of what the "something" that we do is. And that has rarely happened before.
So, yeah. That's made me feel all warm and tingly this evening.
On a much more materialistic note, a truly little thing also made my day today: on the sale page of the Cath Kidston website (oh to have the money to truly kit out my home from that site...), I found an adorable fondue set for just €15, down 70% from €48... I know I'm flat broke and still in the throes of trying to sort out my catastrophic financial situation, but seriously: I have wanted a fondue set for years. I've priced them elsewhere but here in France at least (notoriously expensive when it comes to shopping, it has to be said) even ugly ones come out at almost double that. So, of course, I bought it, and it'll be arriving by post sometime in the next 10-14 days according to my invoice, but most likely much quicker than that now that Christmas is over. I'm sooooo excited! I adore fondue - cheese, meat, chocolate, all of them! - and I'm pretty sure even L, probably one of the pickiest eaters in the world, will like it too. And I know C will.
Obviously, making a fondue can't be the something we'll do together as my lovely fondue set won't be here in time (unless there is Sunday school this week, in which case it might be here for the next Sunday), but preparing one and eating one, just the three of us, could be a fun thing to do together.
And, finally, the third nice thing to happen today was that I got a call from a dear friend - originally "just" a fellow translator but soon a friend and even, for a while, C's wonderful daycare provider - whom I haven't heard from in several years. She had a translation job proposition (vaguely regular work, not particularly hard, possibly a little restrictive because of the short turnaround times) and thought of me. We chatted for about half an hour and have been invited - the three of us - to spend a day with her in Narbonne (where she now lives; the fact that she's left Montpellier is part of the reason we sort of lost touch). Really nice to be back in touch with her!
Can you tell that I'm trying to be upbeat this year?! No, seriously, things still aren't great, but today was a nice day with nice things, and I'll take that!
So, yeah. That's made me feel all warm and tingly this evening.
On a much more materialistic note, a truly little thing also made my day today: on the sale page of the Cath Kidston website (oh to have the money to truly kit out my home from that site...), I found an adorable fondue set for just €15, down 70% from €48... I know I'm flat broke and still in the throes of trying to sort out my catastrophic financial situation, but seriously: I have wanted a fondue set for years. I've priced them elsewhere but here in France at least (notoriously expensive when it comes to shopping, it has to be said) even ugly ones come out at almost double that. So, of course, I bought it, and it'll be arriving by post sometime in the next 10-14 days according to my invoice, but most likely much quicker than that now that Christmas is over. I'm sooooo excited! I adore fondue - cheese, meat, chocolate, all of them! - and I'm pretty sure even L, probably one of the pickiest eaters in the world, will like it too. And I know C will.
Obviously, making a fondue can't be the something we'll do together as my lovely fondue set won't be here in time (unless there is Sunday school this week, in which case it might be here for the next Sunday), but preparing one and eating one, just the three of us, could be a fun thing to do together.
And, finally, the third nice thing to happen today was that I got a call from a dear friend - originally "just" a fellow translator but soon a friend and even, for a while, C's wonderful daycare provider - whom I haven't heard from in several years. She had a translation job proposition (vaguely regular work, not particularly hard, possibly a little restrictive because of the short turnaround times) and thought of me. We chatted for about half an hour and have been invited - the three of us - to spend a day with her in Narbonne (where she now lives; the fact that she's left Montpellier is part of the reason we sort of lost touch). Really nice to be back in touch with her!
Can you tell that I'm trying to be upbeat this year?! No, seriously, things still aren't great, but today was a nice day with nice things, and I'll take that!
samedi 31 décembre 2011
The New Year's Questionnaire
New Year's questionnaire (again, again). But you know me, I can't resist a meme... so here goes.
Well, I was hoping that 2011 was going to be an improvement on 2010 and that this year's answers to these questions would be a bit more upbeat. But apparently it wasn't to be, so now all hopes are riding on 2012...
So here's my review of this pretty much craptastic year. Somewhat depressingly, many of my answers are in fact exactly the same as last year.
Thanks again to Linda for this...
1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?
Spend the entire year as a single mother. Funnily enough, I don't really recommend it...
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't really make any resolutions last year. As a result, I'll probably try and think up something vaguely attainable for 2012 (say, eating less crap or going to bed earlier) and hope I fare better
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Not really. People I know from the girls' school (hey, it's a Catholic school...!), but not any close friends.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, thankfully.
5. What countries did you visit?
Scotland and Italy (though not in that order)
6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
Same answer as last year - the love of a sane, intelligent, financially independent, funny, charming, sexy man
7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory and why?
2011 was a non-specifically crappy year with a few good points, but no actual dates jump out at me, I must admit
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Not going bankrupt, apparently
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not managing to keep my life financially and emotionally afloat
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Same answer as last year: Nothing except from horrendous allergies all the time, at their worst in February-March
11. What was the best thing you bought?
The two digital cameras I bought for the girls way back at the beginning of 2011 and gave them for Christmas - they were overjoyed!
12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
Can't think of anyone in particular
13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
As last year - my ex on occasion (though things are OK at the moment); in CelebWorld, many people get up my nose: Kardashians, LiLo, Mariah Carey, most footballers...
14. Where did most of your money go?
Trying to keep me and my girls afloat
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I don't seem to have the ability to get "really, really excited" about anything, though I was happy to go on holiday to Italy with the girls in August, and again when my friend J and her family came to visit in July, and when another friend, D, came to visit in August
16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
There are several - Hot Chelle Rae's "Tonight, tonight", Simple Plan's "Jet lag" (the French version), Adele's "Someone like you", Colbie Caillat's "Bubbly", the Glee version of Stevie Nicks' "Landslide", the Glee duet "I feel pretty/Unpretty", and many others
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? About the same
b) thinner or fatter? Probably a little fatter
c) richer or poorer? Also about the same - too in debt, anyway
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Laugh, smile, see friends, go out, do things for me
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Cry, feel sorry for myself
20. How did you spend Christmas?
The girls and I travelled to see my dad in Scotland. We arrived late on 21 December and came home on 29 December (though we left Scotland the day before). It was nice, and the girls had a lot of fun.
21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
Hahahahahahahaha
22. What was your favourite TV programme?
I still enjoy Glee and the French version of MasterChef, but I also watched (on DVD) all 4 seasons of Mad Men and got really into that
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No
24. What was the best book you read?
I didn't read many "new" books this year (I reread "comfort" books)
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Adele (though I'm hardly a groundbreaker, am I?!)
26. What did you want and get?
I asked for CDs by Adele ("21") and Lady Antebellum ("Own the night"), as well as a couple of books ("The Unbearable Lightness of Being in Aberystwyth" by Malcolm Pryce and "All of our Thursdays are Missing" by Jasper Fforde), and I was lucky enough to be given all of them
27. What did you want and not get?
Love and affection
28. What was your favourite film of this year?
I don't seem to see films any more
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 42 (God help me) in May. To be honest, I can't really remember much about it. I know it was better than last year, but it certainly wasn't memorable
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Being loved
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
*snort*
32. What kept you sane?
Facebook (corny, but true), and seeing my closest friends
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Pat Monahan - still
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
I'm still not really interested in politics, but the DSK scandal was at least entertaining
35. Who did you miss?
My friends in England - I don't see them nearly often enough
36. Who was the best new person you met?
Ummmm...
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011
When the chips are down, staying up late watching YouTube videos and scarfing down chocolate is really only a temporary fix
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year
Same as last year: it's from Train's early hit, "Meet Virginia":
"She pulls her hair back as she screams, "I don't really want to live this life!"
Well, I was hoping that 2011 was going to be an improvement on 2010 and that this year's answers to these questions would be a bit more upbeat. But apparently it wasn't to be, so now all hopes are riding on 2012...
So here's my review of this pretty much craptastic year. Somewhat depressingly, many of my answers are in fact exactly the same as last year.
Thanks again to Linda for this...
1. What did you do in 2011 that you'd never done before?
Spend the entire year as a single mother. Funnily enough, I don't really recommend it...
2. Did you keep your new year's resolutions, and will you make more for next year?
I didn't really make any resolutions last year. As a result, I'll probably try and think up something vaguely attainable for 2012 (say, eating less crap or going to bed earlier) and hope I fare better
3. Did anyone close to you give birth?
Not really. People I know from the girls' school (hey, it's a Catholic school...!), but not any close friends.
4. Did anyone close to you die?
No, thankfully.
5. What countries did you visit?
Scotland and Italy (though not in that order)
6. What would you like to have in 2012 that you lacked in 2011?
Same answer as last year - the love of a sane, intelligent, financially independent, funny, charming, sexy man
7. What dates from 2011 will remain etched upon your memory and why?
2011 was a non-specifically crappy year with a few good points, but no actual dates jump out at me, I must admit
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
Not going bankrupt, apparently
9. What was your biggest failure?
Not managing to keep my life financially and emotionally afloat
10. Did you suffer illness or injury?
Same answer as last year: Nothing except from horrendous allergies all the time, at their worst in February-March
11. What was the best thing you bought?
The two digital cameras I bought for the girls way back at the beginning of 2011 and gave them for Christmas - they were overjoyed!
12. Whose behaviour merited celebration?
Can't think of anyone in particular
13. Whose behaviour made you appalled and depressed?
As last year - my ex on occasion (though things are OK at the moment); in CelebWorld, many people get up my nose: Kardashians, LiLo, Mariah Carey, most footballers...
14. Where did most of your money go?
Trying to keep me and my girls afloat
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about?
I don't seem to have the ability to get "really, really excited" about anything, though I was happy to go on holiday to Italy with the girls in August, and again when my friend J and her family came to visit in July, and when another friend, D, came to visit in August
16. What song will always remind you of 2010?
There are several - Hot Chelle Rae's "Tonight, tonight", Simple Plan's "Jet lag" (the French version), Adele's "Someone like you", Colbie Caillat's "Bubbly", the Glee version of Stevie Nicks' "Landslide", the Glee duet "I feel pretty/Unpretty", and many others
17. Compared to this time last year, are you:
a) happier or sadder? About the same
b) thinner or fatter? Probably a little fatter
c) richer or poorer? Also about the same - too in debt, anyway
18. What do you wish you'd done more of?
Laugh, smile, see friends, go out, do things for me
19. What do you wish you'd done less of?
Cry, feel sorry for myself
20. How did you spend Christmas?
The girls and I travelled to see my dad in Scotland. We arrived late on 21 December and came home on 29 December (though we left Scotland the day before). It was nice, and the girls had a lot of fun.
21. Did you fall in love in 2010?
Hahahahahahahaha
22. What was your favourite TV programme?
I still enjoy Glee and the French version of MasterChef, but I also watched (on DVD) all 4 seasons of Mad Men and got really into that
23. Do you hate anyone now that you didn't hate this time last year?
No
24. What was the best book you read?
I didn't read many "new" books this year (I reread "comfort" books)
25. What was your greatest musical discovery?
Adele (though I'm hardly a groundbreaker, am I?!)
26. What did you want and get?
I asked for CDs by Adele ("21") and Lady Antebellum ("Own the night"), as well as a couple of books ("The Unbearable Lightness of Being in Aberystwyth" by Malcolm Pryce and "All of our Thursdays are Missing" by Jasper Fforde), and I was lucky enough to be given all of them
27. What did you want and not get?
Love and affection
28. What was your favourite film of this year?
I don't seem to see films any more
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you?
I turned 42 (God help me) in May. To be honest, I can't really remember much about it. I know it was better than last year, but it certainly wasn't memorable
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying?
Being loved
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2010?
*snort*
32. What kept you sane?
Facebook (corny, but true), and seeing my closest friends
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most?
Pat Monahan - still
34. What political issue stirred you the most?
I'm still not really interested in politics, but the DSK scandal was at least entertaining
35. Who did you miss?
My friends in England - I don't see them nearly often enough
36. Who was the best new person you met?
Ummmm...
37. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2011
When the chips are down, staying up late watching YouTube videos and scarfing down chocolate is really only a temporary fix
38. Quote a song lyric that sums up your year
Same as last year: it's from Train's early hit, "Meet Virginia":
"She pulls her hair back as she screams, "I don't really want to live this life!"
jeudi 8 décembre 2011
Nightmare
It's 2.45 am and I know I'm tired. But I can't go to bed. I just can't. Not tonight.
It's not unusual for me to up at this time of night; I've never been a morning person, and I've always enjoyed the peace and quiet of the wee, small hours. I remember writing essays at university at 4 am, I remember lying in bed listening to France Inter late, late at night when I was a student in Lyon. When the girls were very small, I had to work at night because it was pretty much impossible to get much done during the day.
Also, I'm not an insomniac. I have been, back in Lyon for example, when I just couldn't sleep, tossing and turning, night after night, until I'd get up before dawn and go and watch the sun rise from the steps of the Palais de Justice. But not now. Once I actually get myself to bed, I'm pretty much sure of falling asleep within a few minutes.
But tonight? I don't know.
You see, I had a dream last night. A bad dream. Probably the worst dream I've ever had in my entire life. A nightmare so bone-chilling that even thinking about it sends a shiver down my spine.
I've had nightmares before, we all have. Dreams that seem so real and that are so scary that you wake up breathless, in a cold sweat.
But this one was different. I don't remember the details - where, when, how - just the last few seconds before I shot awake, trembling and terrified.
I dreamt that I went into our bathroom and my beautiful girl, C, was lying in the bath, perfectly still, perfectly under the water. Lifeless. I dreamt I put my hands into the warm water and lifted her up, knowing full well that it was too late.
Oh God.
My hands are shaking as I type. It was so real. I could feel her damp skin, the coolness of it. I could see her long, blond hair floating out around her shoulders. Her lips were blue and her eyes were closed. She looked like she was sleeping. But I knew she wasn't.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
I don't really believe in premonitions, and she was perfectly fine all day (though she may have wondered why I kept hugging her so tight today...), but this dream has shaken me to my core. I feel sick. I'm trembling.
And now, I'm scared to go to sleep. Scared to have another dream like that.
My two sweet girls are the most important things in my life, the one true success in my life. I can't bear the thought of losing them.
I can barely keep my eyes open I'm so tired, and I'm going to be a wreck tomorrow, teaching all morning, working all afternoon. But I can't go to bed. I just can't.
It's not unusual for me to up at this time of night; I've never been a morning person, and I've always enjoyed the peace and quiet of the wee, small hours. I remember writing essays at university at 4 am, I remember lying in bed listening to France Inter late, late at night when I was a student in Lyon. When the girls were very small, I had to work at night because it was pretty much impossible to get much done during the day.
Also, I'm not an insomniac. I have been, back in Lyon for example, when I just couldn't sleep, tossing and turning, night after night, until I'd get up before dawn and go and watch the sun rise from the steps of the Palais de Justice. But not now. Once I actually get myself to bed, I'm pretty much sure of falling asleep within a few minutes.
But tonight? I don't know.
You see, I had a dream last night. A bad dream. Probably the worst dream I've ever had in my entire life. A nightmare so bone-chilling that even thinking about it sends a shiver down my spine.
I've had nightmares before, we all have. Dreams that seem so real and that are so scary that you wake up breathless, in a cold sweat.
But this one was different. I don't remember the details - where, when, how - just the last few seconds before I shot awake, trembling and terrified.
I dreamt that I went into our bathroom and my beautiful girl, C, was lying in the bath, perfectly still, perfectly under the water. Lifeless. I dreamt I put my hands into the warm water and lifted her up, knowing full well that it was too late.
Oh God.
My hands are shaking as I type. It was so real. I could feel her damp skin, the coolness of it. I could see her long, blond hair floating out around her shoulders. Her lips were blue and her eyes were closed. She looked like she was sleeping. But I knew she wasn't.
Oh God. Oh God. Oh God.
I don't really believe in premonitions, and she was perfectly fine all day (though she may have wondered why I kept hugging her so tight today...), but this dream has shaken me to my core. I feel sick. I'm trembling.
And now, I'm scared to go to sleep. Scared to have another dream like that.
My two sweet girls are the most important things in my life, the one true success in my life. I can't bear the thought of losing them.
I can barely keep my eyes open I'm so tired, and I'm going to be a wreck tomorrow, teaching all morning, working all afternoon. But I can't go to bed. I just can't.
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