just 45 days at a time

side-woman

The rain falling today has been very symbolic for the way I am feeling, facing the last day of vacation before the school term starts. Just 45 school days but its approach feels like 45 years approaching. Maybe something wonderful will happen in those 45 days.

If not, I was able to increase my income protection insurance if I am finally driven to total collapse! Actually, just completing the application form to upgrade my coverage almost drove me to a mental breakdown.

What is it about forms that bring out the worst in us. No sooner do I open the online application and I start swearing and become a person even I don’t recognise. I had to open the link to the form, but the form has to be printed and completed by hand as it can only be mailed. Then I had to reset passwords and retrieve membership numbers, plus find my plastic membership card, and print out several payslips. It was a three cup of tea job, with a side dose of yelling at Mr FD because he was not answering my questions the way I needed them answered. Mr FD also had the temerity to act as those I was just randomly making up queries just to get my big Monday jollies.

Eventually, the paperwork was completed, then I had to source an envelope and a stamp. Do you know how long it is since I needed either? Luckily I had one sad, soiled stamp in my purse, though I am not sure if it is the right denomination. I am not sure how much a letter costs to post these days! How times have changed – I can remember when we purchased stamps in rolls of 100!

Now to remember to post the letter – and to get out from under my bed tomorrow and front the school day.

 

 

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6 thoughts on “just 45 days at a time

  1. I understand exactly how you feel. Lately I’ve been receiving a number of forms from various agencies, asking me to fill them out while submitting proof that my father died. Of course, that means I have to go to a public office and request copies of death certificates, while trying to prove I am in fact my father’s child. This is mostly to the estate’s benefit, not mine. But I am tempted not to submit anything and cause the whole process to stop in its tracks. (To my siblings: all the better to vex you, my dears.)

    I hope you have a good school year. I also know that feeling of dread when that first day comes. Just remember: in spite of all the quotes from Steve Jobs and Bill Gates and other tech gods, your job, the thing which gives you a paycheck, does not define you. Women especially have their own lives and families to look after. We might love our work, but that doesn’t mean we sold our souls to our employer.

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    • I am sorry, I did not know your father died. It must be a very stressful time for you. I know that your relationship was difficult and so I hope you have been able to be at peace with everything now.

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      • Thank you. It’s been strange, since my father apparently turned over everything to my brother, but legally I’m still the executor for the will. Meaning I get all the grunt work, while my siblings sit pretty on the money and wait for things to settle. I am glad however that I have such supportive children and my life, as ridiculous as it is sometimes, is mine to have fun with.

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  2. Yay, FD post on a Monday.
    What? They still have stamps?
    Good luck for a school year. You sound like my 12-year old at the start of her school year. I was a weird one though – I would love going to school. But that was probably because home wasn’t a nice place to be.
    Also, as you may realise, I resumed blogging ! Hop over if you have time and inclination.

    Liked by 1 person

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