K. (infinitemonkeys) wrote,

A misanthrope writes...

I just wanted to say thanks for all the lovely LJ comments, which -- my own tortoise-ish misanthropic tendencies aside -- really did make me feel much better.

Actually, I'm so glad my dad is even a little bit better that I'm slightly giddy. Have to wait until December 11th to see what the prognosis is, but I think it may be better than I had feared at the weekend.

They let my dad out of hospital yesterday. He is bleary and slightly slow-thinking (which is the opposite of his usual self since he's usually so bloody sharp that he cuts everyone within spitting distance) and isn't allowed to do anything but watch TV and maybe take the dog to the end of the road, but no further. Stress is absolutely verboten.

He keeps getting his English idioms mixed up, which can make communication a tad difficult and he zones out awfully easily -- but then he used to zone out of any conversation he didn't like before this; can't tell if it's illness or ennui. And I can't tell whether he's aphasic or whether he and my mother have resumed their usual conversation in which a full half of their vocabulary consists of the words "thingie", "whatsit" and "greedy bugger"

I think they would have kept him in hospital for longer were it not for the fact that he'd already threatened to walk out twice. And this is a man who has already signed himself out against medical advice and got a taxi home while in the first throes of a brain haemorrhage and while suffering pneumonia. My mum had the staff threaten to call security to stop him walking out before the weekend this time.

After seeing him really ill and unable to string two words together on Friday morning, it was wonderful to drive back on Saturday and find him returned to almost his natural state of obnoxiousness. He ordered me out to buy him a steak so he could eat it in his cubicle, as the hospital food was shite.

Have you ever tried to get takeway semi-rare sirloin steak in an English provincial town? Lord, you'd have thought I asked for quail's eggs and truffles. I was reduced to saying in a really stroppy voice "Look, I'll pay you extra, all right?" *g*

Anyway, by Sunday he was really, *really* obnoxious about being let out so I guess they thought he'd do less damage to himself if they just gave in and I drove him back home on Monday.

I have borrowed my dad's car because (1) I can get to London and back without spending 64 quid a pop if I have a car
(2) If I have the car, my dad can't decide that all the doctors are talking bollocks and of course he's fit to drive.

I have to go home again this weekend and next to help out but there may be sneaky trips to Ikea.

* * *

So today was my first day at the new job and I took a one and a half hour lunch break by accident. Lost track of time/ Got caught in traffic jam. Boss noticed. Oops. Must start reading My Parachute is Made of Porn or whatever the hell it is called. That was not clever.

However, tomorrow is the Big Drunken Lunch (not to be confused with the Observer Party of Death, in which people have been known to take ambulances rather than taxis home due to overindulgence in alcoholic merriment) I am gaining extra arselicky points by coming in before it, and coming in when it's finished while the others are all drinking themselves into a stupor, to do this stupid travel thing. (I have no copy. I have no pictures. I have no ad geometry. How the screaming blue fork I am meant to design it in these circumstances it is a mystery known only to God and my bosses.)

I'm kind of off drinking at the moment. I think that I don't actually like it much any more. Or at any rate, the trade-off of 5 hours of disinhibition and glorious ale, when you forget what boring farts the people in the office are, against the misery of coming home and falling asleep in only a bra and pants on the living room floor, surrounded by the greying remains of a doner kebab, while bid-up.tv blares out of the television, doesn't seem so worthwhile.

And let's not forget the "I want to die" hangover which ensues.

So. A Christmas lunch for the workers at a place where I have been working for one day. If ever an occasion required alcohol, it is this, but I must be firm! Big arselicking/crawling to boss offensive needed! Must be sober in order to edit travel supplement! Oh yes! *g*

* * *
Tags: mediaserf, whining

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