Grumpus

I am having a shitty day. It started rubbish and got worse.

Trains were late (again; where was it I wrote with joy about not having to use the Northern Line?) so we were packed into the carriage when I saw the wasp. To say I don’t like wasps would be the understatement of the year. Bagelmouse hates wasps; fears, loathes, despises them. They are little black and yellow buzzy bastards and I would like them all wiped from the face of the earth. They terrify me. I can’t deal with them. I’ve had hypnotherapy, psychotherapy, I took my summer finals in a room with windows that don’t open in case one got in (yes, the exam centre actually took that request seriously!). And my worst nightmare is being stuck in an enclosed space, where I can’t move, with a wasp at the end of the season where it’s dying and will sting anything that moves.

Not a good start to the day.

At work, I have four different sets of people arguing with each other – through me – and it’s driving me crazy. I have writers who can’t tell the difference between ‘affect’ and ‘effect’. Everyone’s gone away or is too busy for me to email and whine at and/or demand to be entertained (yes, I am an only child. *Looks around innocently* What?). I’ve shoved my head in my hands so often today that my hair is going wavy from scrunching. It’s cold. And I’m still at work on a conference call.

*grumble*

Edit – the next day: there was another wasp in the carriage this morning! But this time I had a window seat and the latest Terry Pratchett paperback and I squashed the fucker. Sometimes fear turns to rage, and I will be avenged.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s