Disentangled

" - yes, but when you live here it makes you slightly more of a minger than other people, that's just the way it goes." (Occasional Houemate)

Dear Ms Midorikaeru

Position of Maintenance Operative

We refer to your application received at the office today, 9 May 2007.

We regret to advise that since the closing date for applications was 30 March 2007, the position has been filled.

We thank you for your interest in CFPA and wish you every success in obtaining appropriate employment.

Yours sincerely

etc.

(They didn't specify what they considered to be "appropriate employment" for somebody such as myself. I wonder...)

Okay. I reeeeeeeeeally am going to do some filing now...

(Title..?)

Dog-eared and coffee stained,
last July's Ullapool News.
I mind reading it in the beer garden, waiting for the bus
the very first time I visited you.

It spent most of the summer in my rucksack;
came with us parting and camping and guerilla-gardening
and lying on the beach in each other's arms, feeling the summer,
grinning, smug as hell.

I circled all the building firms,
phoned 'em up looking for a job -
labouring; deskwork; any-bloody-thing they'd give me,
just to be near you.

And now... well, it's all changed
My life's here now
And suddenly I'm not too sure about you, but what to do
With last July's Ullapool News?

Fuckit.
Chuckit.
In the bucket

- 30-odd copies apiece of Jobs North and Ullapool News, each with two relevant pages, tops; many with none? Any special reason why we're lovingly hoarding these, hmmmm? *prods former self with pointy stick and looks superior* Hmmmmmm..? Thought not.

WHY, in the name of all that is fucking ridiculous, do I have the following:

- every single one of Estranged husband's bank statements for 2005-6?

- a receipt for a tub of bio-yoghurt from Tesco, totalling 59 pence?

- an Oor Wullie annual nestling in my "apprenticeship hunt" folder?

No wonder my mind is so untidy.

Onwards!

The top layer of shite's not been too bad really... the summer's worth of paper-mess, so rejections from jobs I didn't want, nice friendly here's-your-new-card type letters from the bank, and countless (and I do mean countless) credit card reciepts from the pub in Achiltibuie. Probably a telling conclusion as to where all my money went in the summer, but no matter - on with the shite-sorting! Feeling slightly hysterical, and sure the haulage guys in the yard are exchanging "looks" at each whoop, exclamation and outburst of maniacal laughter; never mind. Hand me my shredder, for today there will be order in a wee corner of my life, oh yes!!!

I am going to attack my paperwork today. It is going to be grim - awful, in fact - documentary evidence of the last joyless, teeth-grinding, silent-screaming year of my marriage, compounded by the repeated decision - to shred, or not to shred? - required of somebody who's walked out of the bakers because her brain was simply unable to cope with the choice of pie.

Once I've done it, it will be done (and I'll be able to proceed to the next feat of organisation, oh lucky me!!!) If I just start, before I know it I'll be halfway through (not curled up on the bedroom floor chewing my face and emitting animal-noise, oh no!). Ohhhhhhh FUCK I hate being a grown-up sometimes!!!