F*** rated Flamingo Files

Tipping point.  She Who is Going to Kill Me With Kindness has submitted a request to MegaBoss for new window blinds in our offices…because ours are looking dull and shabby. My “window” is more a 30cm slit close to the ceiling to let some daylight into my cell, but the vertical blind has most of its slats. I wasn’t complaining. Once again it appears peevish and nasty to criticize someone when they are being nice, but it is too much nice. The cup of niceness is overflowing. I am suffocating in niceness. I am being stalked by NICE. The up side is (a) that it is not the frilly curtains I have been fearing and (b) when they cart me out of here in either a white jacket or a body bag, then the next person to do my job will have a nice office – right? My survival mantra is “better than a bitch” …I am mumbling it to myself so much that people are starting to stare and pull their children and dogs away from me.

I followed a midlife crisis into work . He was driving a little red Triumph sports car, with the soft black roof. Point of irritation was that his number plate was Stag. I wanted to throw up on his car. Or at least drive mine over the top of his. I guess he thinks he is really hot stuff. He was pathetic. He couldn’t even park the little thing in the near empty car park, and had to have two goes at getting it straight in the space. Sad man.

The family doctor and I have been telling Mr FD (doctor suggests, I inform) that he has needed to shed a few kilos for some time now. Suggested smaller portion sizes and better meal choices when away from home, some light walking. He is having knee problems as he is a little challenged in the height department and he actually has legs like matchsticks, carrying his weight on the tummy, so all the warnings are there. I thought he accepted the fact that he was a little too heavy, but I was delusional. Silly me! Yesterday he was contacted by the Red Cross as supplies of his blood group are low and they asked him to donate, as he did. I wish I could get the same response from him when I ask for help – re light bulb update: I  have to don the miner’s hat tonight to make dinner as my premade supplies are exhausted. Well, I would if I could see to find the miner’s hat in the shadows. I digress

 They weighed him while he was there, bless them. BINGO! Now he is overweight. He saw the actual kilo number on the little scale and was shocked, shocked I tell you, to see his weight. If someone had asked me to guess the amount of lard in the old man I would have guessed that exact amount, but not he apparently. He thought he was at least 10 kilos lighter. This is despite the fact that we have at least two different scales in our house that he could use to check at any time.  Now he needs to shed weight….not before, but NOW.  He may shed a wife too if he is not careful…

One of the departments I have some critical tasks with is being “outsourced” and “downsized” and “made redundant” by the end of the year and hence there has been a great stampede of exits. Result – no one to do the job and no one to even now the job needs to be done.  I am constantly assured that all will be well and this band aid has been applied during the change process, but first trial and the band aid fails and my task gushes arterial blood. I was going to lie in traffic this morning and then I thought, hey, not my problem. All I can do is ask for the things I need, walk around with a loud bell crying “bring out your dead, do my task” and do a triple circuit of the department of death and if it fails after that, not my problem. No one asked me if it was a good idea, let them take the responsibility for the mess. I will make sure blame goes to the right area, I am like that. If I am willing to fall on my sword for my mistakes then they had better be sure they are too. I do not go down with the ship, Captain.

So the wonderful thing maturity has taught me is to know when it is not my fault and to refuse to shorten my life over it. I do the best I can and then I move on. Like the Queen Marry in full sail. I refuse to be afraid anymore and let the dirt fall where it should. Amen.

            I am sounding like a bitter and twisted woman today…However, yesterday I went down to the lake. It was hideous. School holidays and the Mothers with Children set were out. Now I like children, love them in fact, had three of my own, bless them, BUT maybe it is postmaternal issues or something, but the little lovelies were so irritating yesterday. Truthfully I think it was their mothers who were irritating. So busy telling their woes to each other that they ignored the children. Always a good idea I think when you have three year olds who are rather unsteady of their feet and like to run down inclines to the lake with large rocks in their chubby hands to throw into the lake. I waited, ok I wished, no I prayed, for one of them to tumble in so that Mum had to make a mad dash to yank them out of the water, but God was busy somewhere elsewhere, giving Robert Mugabe Divine Right of Kings I suspect, and so they didn’t fall. It was close though.

Mother’s little joys were picking up large rocks out of the garden, as big as an adult’s palm, and running down to the lake’s edge and throwing the rocks in. Nice plop sound, so they did 4 or 5 return trips despite my evil eye to both them and their mummies. The rocks were in the garden bed to stop water run off and erosion in the garden, and so were integral to the garden , but no adult could compute that. Actually, I was more fearful of the horrors falling into the lake than the rocks. Don’t young mothers see danger, or is that something you only learn after your third trip to emergency? I am not talking about cocooning your monster , but just plain common sense. No three year old should be playing around murky depths without strict supervision. If one had fallen in, the water is so dirty it would have been hard to find them after the third time they went down, if they came up at all. Especially if a rock was tied to their leg…forgive me, I digress to my dreams yet again…Best to avoid the lake until after the holidays. Them not me.

Friday is my flex day. I think I will buy myself some sunshine and light and a pleasant disposition. Can you get that from Target?