Hair (again!) and some grumpiness.

2012-01-02, 9:30 p.m.
A few bits and pieces of news that I may have forgotten to mention. Just before Christmas, Treacle turned 12!

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And immediately started worrying about her appearance, resulting in her first ever (well, apart from the occasional �mum fringe�) hair cut

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We were both a bit taken aback by how curly her hair is without all that weight dragging it down, and it�s a splendidly �wash and wear� style, which is just the job for a girlie who is a little bit afraid of hairdryers *tssk*, and a lot of a bit too bone idle to spend hours fiddling with her hair in the mornings before school. Especially when there�s more important things to do, like eat a bit more breakfast or sit on the floor in her bedroom reading a book and resolutely NOT making her bed.

**Im watching Fanny Cradock on the Good Food Channel. She has yet to make something I would consider putting in my mouth, but its such fun watching her trying to discretely lick the sweat off her top lip. In you are young, or foreign, you may need a little clarification with regard to this culinary mentalist. Voila!

*shudder*

Today, Ive been actively engaged in �farting about on the internet�, mostly because the alternatives are �extreme housework� or �finishing off the Christmas chocolates�, neither of which seem like ideal uses of my time. Actually, part of the �farting about� has been linked to the �extreme housework� as I have been researching the possibility of getting some help with the domestic chores here at The Palace of Many Sins.

I always used (ie in my past life) to have help around the house. When the kids were small I had a cleaner, a gardener and someone to do my ironing. That might seem excessive but we had a big house, we were rich and it left me more time to spend playing with my kids which HAS to be a more worthwhile activity than scraping bits of playdoh off the carpets with a grapefruit spoon and vacuuming the skirting boards, doesn�t it? I had a cleaner prior to that, when I was a corporate whore, too � I worked 50 hour weeks and it was my own money, so bite me.

I eschewed such pleasures when I started living with L � our house is just as big and full of people who don�t wipe their feet as it always was but there were fiscal considerations to consider. We were already living on fresh air, supplemented with Value beans, whilst sweating under the weight of an enormous and unwieldy mortgage � having a tabard-wearing factotum was an extravagance we could no longer support.

Now I find that, in my current chemo-addled state, the dust-bunnies are becoming dust-mammoths and every surface that isn�t covered with crumbs is slightly sticky to the touch. Or sticky to the touch AND covered in crumbs. Im also spending rather more time than is usual for me in �resting on the sofa� and �in bed, trying to sleep and failing miserably�, which would both be infinitely more joyous experiences if, on opening my eyes, I didn�t gaze out onto a vista more redolent of a student squat after a crystal meth party than the stylish abode of a middle-aged suburban �teacher� and her rock-star husband (!)

Mater has given me a small chunk of mad money and suggested, as carefully as a person could do without saying the words �your house is a fucking STATE!�, that I might like to consider getting some help around the house again. So today I did a little bit of searching to see what�s available in my area and how much Im likely to have to pay.

I would like to hereby declare that I EARN LESS THAN A CLEANER

Yes, folks. I, whose job it is to educate children so that they will be able to get good jobs when they leave school, have to face the hideous reality that those that I do not manage to furnish with sufficient education to get said �good job� and are thus relegated to menial tasks such as cleaning other people�s toilets for a living, will (hour for hour) out-earn me by about 30%.

Now, I know Im not a �proper� teacher, but anyone who works in education will know that Im pretty close to it for 6 x 50 minutes per day (plus break times and detention duty!) and it�s all a bit galling, to be honest.

*sigh*

Oh, and don�t any smarty-pants suggest �cant your husband and children do the housework?� � they already do plenty, there�s just plenty more that could be done!


Not too much hilarity in this entry, Im afraid � Ive been weepy and disconsolate for the last couple of days. My buzz-cut was driving me crackers � little bits of hair falling out all the time, giving every moment that �just got back from a haircut� itchiness and so L finally took matters into his own hands yesterday and shaved my head right down to the skin as I lay in the bath. Now I really do look like someone put makeup on a boiled egg�.or Tamara Beckwith. Same difference.

Mater is insisting on coming with me to the oncologist tomorrow and to my next chemo session on Thursday � I think she fears some repeat of the �CT Scan Meltdown� from a week or so ago, but I don�t really feel like that at all. L has been helping me out a lot more the last week or so and isn�t nearly so stressed out in the studio, so I don�t feel murderous and helpless like I did before, more just sort of melancholy and weary.

Im supposed to go in to school on Wednesday and Im dreading it a bit. I have three options vis a vis my big shiny head: a) go au naturel and ignore any �baldy� taunts and accompanying sniggers b) wear the wig, which I am finding to be itchy and irritating. I am also getting fed up with people telling me how nice my hair looks. I am finding it as grump-making as I assume a person with a prosthetic limb might find comments about their nice legs c) wear a turban/scarf, which is nice and warm but gives me a headache after a couple of hours, will attract 1000�s of �why have you got that thing on your head?� questions and makes me look a bit too much like Professor Quirrell. *sigh* Comments? Advice?

Been to the pub tonight and have had several drinks. I am hoping that it will do something to my libido. In a good way.

Later
S
x

PS Happy New Year! xxxxxxxx





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