David Tennant's Missing!!!

Hello all,

Sneaking into blog.uk., post-work, this evening.
Someone nicked my David Tennant autographed post card from my cubicle wall, here at work. Drat! Oh well. I'm not an autograph type of person, and merely a fan (not a fan-girl) but, it was a nice thing to have, and I'm slightly put out about it. Some of the new hires are not all that, if you know what I mean. It's getting hard for them to find people, 'cos of all the pay cuts, and work slow-downs and such. Maybe it will turn up. Two weeks ago, my mousepad went missing, and turned up last week, back on my desk. A month ago, my Raymond Chandler book went missing for a few days, and again, wound up back on my desk a few days later. Gremlins???? Or one very strange co-worker?

Speaking of co-workers, one told me she's going down to Disney in Florida, for a week soon, on vacation. Wow. Nice. I've not had a holiday since January of '04--though it was one helluva holiday--you can take that meaning both ways, incidentally. It was the best/worst time I've ever had. I suppose, as the last holiday I'll ever go on, the college study trip in Egypt was a big blow-out. It's also why my wages are being garnished, as I couldn't repay my student loan in a timely enough fashion to suit them. I won't go into th he trip, just say that it was both the trip of a life time, and a living nightmare...a regular ying-yang thing. I went inside a newly opened tomb near the pyramids (workers tombs), saw all the major sites, from Alexandria to Cairo, to Luxor. I danced with a belly dancer, sailed on the Nile in a Feluca, and also rode a pure white Arab mare in the dunes above the Spynx under the moonlight--and got deathly ill (lost 20 lbs in 2 weeks), had both parents hospitalized while I was there, had the roomate from Hell, got publically yelled at for something I simply didn't do, and had my dad die, two days after I got home. Yeah--wonderful trip but also horrible at the same time.

Now, I go nowhere, do nothing. I'll probably--literally--never go on holiday again. So, as holidays go, I've been blessed. I've had two or three that were really delicious, and gave me a lifetime of memories, so...okay, I'll probalby never go anywhere, ever again, but still..I cannot complain. Better to go on a trip of a lifetime, once ever ten or twenty years, then a boring holiday once a year. At least, that's what I tell myself. In my job, I get 7 days off a year--national holidays, like Easter and Christmas and Labor Day. Sure, it means I have to make up the day off, by working extra hours, as I don't get paid holidays--but still, better than nothing, ey?

Again, speaking of co-workers, we were talking about our attire tonight. I'm all in brown--brown hoodie and dark brown courdoroy trousers. I was told I looked like a poo. Oh, love the office joker.

I went to a booksale at the library, Saturday before work. Got about 5 dollars worth of used books: Three Mustketeers, several paperback mystery's and an old Samuel French playbook, from the 1930's, a ghost story in three acts. Interesting little play. Rather could see myself playing the character of Mrs. Wragg, the large, chav cook, ha-ha. Yup, that's me in a nutshell. Mind you, I really do suck at acting--but, I suck with style! Okay, well, maybe not so much style, as throwing myself into being absolutely awful, with wild abandon.

I've not had anything to do with theater, in five years, unfortunately. I do miss it, sometimes. But, maybe not being involved in theater, isn't such a bad thing, all things considered, ha-ha.

We had a heck of a windstorm, yesterday. A snow squall blew through, late afternoon--like a tornado of snow--couldn't see your hand in front of your face, what we call a "white-out." White outs are scary when one is driving. I got caught in one, once, driving mum down the mountain road, on the way to the dialysis center here in the city, once. Wow, I was definitely scared. Couldn't see--period. It was just...white. Blowing snow to the front and rear, and me on a road used frequently by logging trucks. That was not good. I had to inch forward, hooting my car horn and flashing my lights, until I was well out of it. I was in a bit of a sweat, over that.

Yesterday, the wind was blowing such a gale, it was driving the snow through the cracks in the the window frame, and it knocked a model horse I had, on the sill, off and broke its leg, poor thing. pity that. I had that horse for years, my only full-size Peter Stone model, that a friend had gifted to me. Today/tonight, it's just so bitterly cold--in the single digits (farenheight), with sub-zero's on the way.

The ice is a bother, as well, We had mild temps, and melting/rain, and now it's all frozen. The side road next to my building? You could actually skate on it, the ice is so thick. I hate ice, except in my cold drinks. My first time on ice, mum took me out to the little spring-fed lake in our village--in fact, that's what it was called, "Little's Lake," named after a man named Little. It was really more like a large pond, actually. Anyway, when I was about 7, mum took me out one winter. Sis and dad were good skaters. I had these little white skates, with double blades. What did I do, me with the dyspraxia? Yup, fell hard on my bum...and sis made fun of me, and dad made fun of me...and I've hated ice, ever since. Still an elephant on roller skates, especially with my bad right foot, now. I dread falling...always afraid the next time, will be the time I wind up in a wheelchair--and God, I'm sick of hospital. Being alone is bad enough. Being alone in hospital is horrid, take it from me. The result is, I have to pay someone 20 dollars, to take out my rubbish, because between all that ice/my limp, and my slightly wonky heart, it's just not a good idea, to do it myself now...tried it today, and it really took the stuffing out of me. (I have to drag the stuff down two flights of stairs, around the front/side of the building and into the back of the rear car park.)

So, my virus is gone, but my anemia is bad...can't win for losing. Haven't got my government cheque yet, and living on between 90 and 150 dollars a week, at the mo'. Ah well, one thing poverty is, it's a challenge.

I'm awfully bored. Not much to do, but at least the house is slowly getting cleaned. Very slowly, I'm afraid. At least I have some new (used) books to read, and my very dull Dr Who story, I'm writing. I sent my last story to a friend, but I don't think she liked it (just too polite to say). Well, I'm used to folks not liking my plays or fiction or poetry. Essays and feature articles and blogs, yes, I can write those. But I totally suck at fiction and plays and poetry. Dang it all. They're the fun stuff. Figures I suck at the fun stuff. But, I love writing Dr Who fiction, and even if no one ever reads it, it's something to keep me occupied, which I so desperately need. I'm tired of trying to explain to the locals (neighbours, social workers, doctor's etc) that I have no one here. No one. Why doesn't anyone get that???? It really is getting tedious, having to hear, "you MUST have someone, surely!" No. I don't. Deal with it. God knows I do.

I have my long-distance friends, and I am content with that. Tho', it's hard not having the internet at home, so I can "talk" to them sometimes.

Anyway, this is my life at the moment. Rather boring, isn't it? That's me. Nancy Dullsville.