Monday, April 26, 2004

I'm in such a grouchy mood this morning that I'm writing it out in the hope that it will snap me out of it.

I woke up tired and aching - tired because I stayed up later than I would when I have work in the morning, and aching because I've started going to the gym again and my complacent muscles are on strike. Even the beautiful portuguese espresso our friend Matt gave us fails to get me going. I sip, look around me and have the sinking realisation that I can clean our flat until the cows come home, but it never seems to look tidy. This really pisses me off as I've spent a good part of the weekend hoovering, dusting, chucking out old papers and putting stuff aside for the charity shop.

I leave for work, and leave the bf to his lie-in. He got in late from a festival last night, hence my late bedtime - and has two days off, lucky. I don't want to disturb him too much and being grouchy doesn't make me feel very cuddly anyhow, so I head out quickly and hope that the walk to work will clear my head a bit.

Ha! I should have known better. As soon as I reach Salford (and this is always the way!) I get catcalls from a couple of lorry drivers, which I am in no mood for. Then I spot not one, but two big piles of smashed glass on the sidewalk across from the Lowry Hotel - leftovers from last night's all-too-usual car thieving. Great.

I enter our building and spot a woman who works in a different service. We have nothing to do with them, but she's always popping in at the worst possible time to take flyers and annual reports for someone she's showing around. She never seems to notice if she's interrupting and is always gratingly yappy. Oh, and another time she just helped herself to one of our offices for a meeting and got very snippy when I told her she should have asked, especially as it was my manager's office which is full of confidential files and hello, WE pay the rent on it! Anyhow. I'm not in the mood for her at the best of times, but today I run to the lift and push the "up" button even though I see her finishing a conversation and heading for the lift as well. The door closes as she rushes towards me, and I feel a strange satisfaction at being a bitch.

But there's a bit of a happy ending here. I turn on my computer and have my usual quick read of other blogs, and spot that Mike and K finally had the chance to try out the best-ever rhubarb crumble recipe I'd sent at xmas. Nearly a year ago I'd taken it to (I think!) a pre-Ulrich Schnauss lovely spring lunch at their weekend cottage, and K had asked for the recipe. Reading about it made me slightly emotional for some reason and lifts my mood. Thank you Mike!


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