Sleepy

Why does having a good cry make you so sleepy? There must be a physiological reason for it.

Went home at lunchtime because He had a bizarre hunch that The Cheque may have arrived (it's supposed to be on its way, long story). On the doormat, sure enough, was a letter addressed to me that wasn't recognisable as a bill or otherwise. Tore it open, only to find that it wasn't The Cheque, and bizarrely that made me burst into tears. And we're not talking about restrained girly crying, we're talking full on, can't breathe, head splitting sobbing.

It was over in about five minutes, which is actually quite a long time when you're crying, and I was left feeling cleansed but exhausted. You know the feeling, yes? Except of course that rather than curling up and going to sleep, I had to come back to work.

I'm a zombie. A puffy eyed zombie.

Bloody Him and His 'hunch'.

Accentuate the Positive

Had the meeting with The Boss late yesterday afternoon. I know I don't usually talk about work, but this time I'm going to...

I started off trying to take quite a subtle approach to the whole 'I'm so bored I want to smash my head through my VDU' thing, but she's no fool, so quickly realised that my request for 'more challenging work' was actually... "You're bored, yes?" "Er, yes.". And then it went really well. To cut a long story short, I neatly avoided dropping my immediate superior in the shit, while still answering her questions about him honestly, and I also highlighted all the excellent work I've done since I've been here. The upshot being, The Boss is going to give me some more interesting and challenging projects, and is talking about 'advancement' in a very positive way.

I mean, yes, this is not my dream job and I don't plan on staying here much longer than another six months or so, but this was my first go at Cosmo style 'assertiveness at work' and it was a roaring success. So I am proud.

Change Your Life Today

Had a mini-tantrum on Friday about how miserable and bored I am, and decided to do something about it. Went on a mini-rant about changing my life and not taking any more shit off people in a professional or legal context when I NEVER take shit off people in any other context. Riding this wave of confidence and assertiveness, I emailed The Boss to say I want to meet with her this week to discuss my role, and emailed the executor of the will (re The Money) to ask what (the hell) is going on.

Then had a wonderful weekend with Him which mainly involved lying around in bed, watching DVDs, fighting crime, and eating Mexican food. Couldn't have been better. Came into work today with a spring in my step and smile on my face, despite the grey shittiness of the weather.

Then, upon opening my inbox, found an email from The Boss saying she wants to meet with me this afternoon, and an email from the executor saying everything is nearly finalised, but in the meantime the solicitor can forward £X000 as an interim payment straight away.

Fuck me, this whole 'proactive' thing doesn't half start working quickly...

Like Rain On Your Wedding Day

Here's something ironic for you. I've been thinking about this a lot lately:

It seems to be the burning ambition of a lot of the women I've met, especially in Essex, to get married, have a nice house and stable jobs, have some kids, and find enjoyment in things like trips to B&Q and holidays twice a year to nice safe holiday destinations with activities for the children and a buffet restaurant. And you know what? I'm not knocking that. Each to their own, blah blah.

But isn't it ironic that so many women want that and can't get it, whereas I'm on the fast track to it, at least halfway there, and I'm turning the wheel frantically to try to get the hell off this road before it's too late.

I don't want a house. I don't want a nice stable office job with good maternity benefits. I certainly don't want to join the pushchair posse. And holiday resorts make me feel claustrophobic.

I want to take the Trans-Siberian express to Mongolia and teach English. I want to watch sunrise at Mount Everest. I want to have a shag with Him on a diving boat on the Great Barrier Reef.

I want some more adventures, goddammit!

And I'm scared to the very core of my soul that I may have to choose between adventure and Him.

Rites of Spring

Blimey. I left the house to walk to work today, and instead of feeling as though the freezing cold was slowly killing off my body piece by piece, it was mild and sunny. Does this mean spring may finally be here?

Either way, it justifies me defying common sense and buying three short sleeved tops last week instead of nice sensible jumpers.

Today's News in Brief

Sorry for not being around much lately, but I've actually had to work. Shocking, I know. So here is a brief round up of recent events, just to keep you all up to date...

Natwest increased our overdraft for no reason at all, so I finally bought some new clothes (two tops, one pair of skinny jeans, one pair of boots, one pair of trousers). Clearly this has turned me into a goddess because...

...Prince (son of Cuck and Riptorn, not that weird short bloke who looks like a face lift attacked him) has developed a teenage crush on me, which is flattering and kind of sweet, but a little strange because...

... I'm used to Cuck being the one who tries hard to flirt with me when we go round there (which he did again, in spades, on Sunday). I'm torn between feeling like a goddess with unspeakable power over the men of that clan, and feeling a bit icky.

After an unfortunate incident with some beautiful shoes and a discarded ball of the revolting stuff, I have decided chewing gum should be banned once and for all. I've always found it a repulsive habit, but now it's just gone one step too far. And don't you DARE tell me you need it for fresh breath - have a tic tac!

I've found that dressing nicely for work is actually quite an ego boost and less of a chore than I've always thought. Okay, so I'm only talking about wearing a pretty top with my jeans instead of a fleece, and bothering to style my hair, but still, it's a start.

My new favourite pastime is looking at house porn on the internet. For me, this consists of abandoned old houses in France which need lots of work but only cost as much as a small car. When I look at them I forget how much I hate mess, dirt and spiders, and imagine myself instead as an intrepid adventurer, fitting electrics and plumbing, laying floorboards, etc etc, and then smugly showing the finished result to that bloke who presents 'Grand Designs'. Of course more realistically, I would hire people to do all that bit for me, but therein lies the joy of fantasy.

So, there you go. A few snippets of Mookmoo's life at the moment. I will be back with more regular posts soon, I promise!

Big love,

Mookmoo xx

PS To Mathieu (my biggest fan) and Laura (I don't know who you are) - this post proves I'm not dead, but thank you for your kind emails of concern.

Down Time

There are positives and negatives about spending a week off at home. The positive is that it's like being a student again, and suddenly a diet of daytime tv and cold pizza is the best thing ever, and you get all excited when there's a really good phone-in on This Morning. The negative is that it's like being a student again, and so going back to work is a massive shock to the system and feels profoundly wrong.

I do worry that after three and half years of working it still doesn't feel right, whereas doing nothing all day and spending hours mooching around the house or mooching around the shops feels absolutely right. Hmmm. Clearly I am naturally suited to the loafing lifestyle...

But it was a great week. Caught up with a few friends, chilled out, slept a lot, fought a lot of crime... like I say, it was a return to studenthood!

However, we did get some proper talking done and decisions made and all that kind of thing. I've decided to try and take the CELTA exam so that I can teach EFL professionally, and we're thinking about going abroad for a bit in the next couple of years. We've also decided to stick two fingers up to all the people who keep telling us to 'get a foot on the UK property ladder', and look at buying a nice French ruin for £20k or so that we can work on over the next ten years whenever we have a bit of spare cash or time.

Basically, we're looking at leaving the country a lot, trying to do six months here and six months there, and be kind of nomadic. Hurrah!

Out of Blog

I am now out of the blog until Monday 13th March.

For blogging services in my absence, please contact Jellie, Neil, or Mockley using the links in the sidebar.

If your query is urgent, please email me at newlyweddramaqueen@yahoo.co.uk

Best wishes,

Mookmoo
Chief Neurotic
Newlywed Drama Queen Inc

Whatever

Not much to report at the moment, to be honest. Life is ticking by, blah de blah.

I did manage to get up this morning and do a workout before work, which was scary. On the plus side though, I was still half asleep, so it now seems like a bit of a dream. Well, apart from the aching stomach muscles, obviously.

I can't remember if I mentioned this, but we've got a week off next week for some much needed R&R. It's His birthday on Saturday, and so we thought it would be a good point in the year to use up some of our generous holiday allowance. We're not actually doing anything or going anywhere (well, maybe a day trip to London), but right now the thought of some sleep and reading time is good enough for me.

Basically, life at the moment is kind of on hold until all this money stuff gets sorted out. Solicitors are, I have decided, the most underproductive and overpaid people in the world. Or at least, the ones involved in this case are. The thing is, day to day finances are now just about okay, but every month that the solicitors delay means one more month of forking out interest on credit cards that we're going to be paying off. Sigh. I just want to get it sorted and move on to the next part of our lives.

What that next part is, of course, I don't really know for sure yet. But I'm willing to bet it'll be better than the way things are now.