Warning: this post contains foul language . My mouth appears to be spewing from the gutters at the moment….
….. you have been warned…..
January really has been a c**t of a month.
There’s no way to sugar coat this one.
It’s just been like wading up Mount Everest through a sea of phlegm; the frost having gnawed off all finger tips, toes and ear lobes; blizzards pushing you in the wrong direction; and so thick its impossible to see anything ahead. You’re looking for that glowing welcoming light in a log cabin (or igloo) for a bit of comfort and relief from the daily grind but just cannot see it.
A lot of the problem with January is that its right here at the beginning of the bloody year.
Right after all the hype and adrenalin of friends, families, entertainment and parties. You walk into January with a bloated gut; probably severe acid reflux; your credit cards maxed out and half a pack of rotting sprouts still in the fridge. There are chocolates and biscuits that need eating up otherwise you’ll feel wasteful, so instead you stuff in just one more waffer thin kilo of Cadbury’s (other brands are available) before the much dreaded half-hearted promise to diet kicks in. Then there’s the decorations to take down which probably means the house needs cleaning; and the gifts to find homes for which probably involves a trip to the tip or charity shop (or both). You’ve been on holiday so you’ve probably contracted some bug or other either from all the rogue kids you’ve hugged during the holidays or all the drunk people you might have snogged whilst exuberantly wishing them a happy new year.
You enter January with enthusiasm and optimism.. Maybe set out some positive goals to achieve during the coming year. Then you wake up on the 2nd or 3rd with a raging hangover and somewhat jet-lagged from sleeping when you should be awake and vice versa… you know, all that no alarm clock ; roll with the biscuit barrel laissez faire that comes with holidays, time off work and loss of routine… and then…
…just as the paracetamol kick in and you’ve had a shower and changed the bedding, January brings returning to work and school (or if you are a teacher, the worst case scenario of all – returning to both at the same time!). Or if, like me, you are a seasonal worker, you crawl into January with massive debts and almost no work at all. Hardly anyone wants to visit a B&B in Mid Wales in January. And no-one needs a gardener!
Of course there are those of you who don’t relish the holidays so are perhaps looking to January for some much-needed relief from the excessive expectations of the Christmas advert idyll; or to escape from the obligation of spending time with family. Then it comes, skulking round the corner and lumbering in your general direction; not bringing lightness and peace but by dumping grey, dank weather on you; threats of polar vortexes; more bloody Brexit foolfuckery and President Arsewipe is still sodomising the USA.
This is my year so far, after recovering from New Years Eve
3rd January went to see Grandson, Son and DIL – would have been lovely but we arrived feeling well and dashed home the next day realising we were coming down with something which we’ve probably passed to them – we’ve not heard from them since.
4th January – I get the full hit of the worst coldy virusy buggy thing I’ve had in 20 plus years….I literally do nothing but moan, snort, snore, snooze, cough and moan some more for five whole days. It doesn’t even have the decency to take away my appetite so at least the result is a few pound of Xmas excess off my expanding gut… oh no, this little bugger demanded to be fed! Two days after I get it Hubby gets it. Let me tell you that spending all day in bed together was not as much fun as I remember it being.
7th January, complete with bug and a pocket of tissues Hubby takes me 25 miles to collect my exhibition pieces that have been part of a collective exhibition for the past 3 months. Only to discover two glass sculptures are damaged. I have a complete and inappropriate melt down involving sobbing and screaming. We load the car , hubby drives me home.
8th January – a letter from Southend Council saying they are taking court action to collect unpaid council tax on a flat I’m in the process of selling. This flat is a horror story all on its own which I honestly haven’t got the energy to write at the moment or any time in the foreseeable future but if you think of the biblical fire, flood, plague of locusts, you’ll get somewhere near the full horror of the last 15 years of ownership. Needless to say this ‘misunderstanding’ (as I had called them to explain the sale, tell them it should complete by end Jan and confirm I could pay any balance out of the sale) has not only cost me an additional £125 in charges but became my second red rag to a bull melt down of the year. Having lost the plot on the phone I proceeded to slam it down, hyperventilating, have a panic attack, and throw (break) a phone, camera and calculator; before Hubby was able to placate me. Of course I had to phone back and right my wrong but after another long (10 minute) hold in an automated queue, I was sobbing uncontrollably by the time the call was connected and I just about managed to ok them to speak to Hubby before the hyperventilating began again.
10th January still chasing the insurance payout for a horse kicking my classic car in June. The rider accepted full responsibility; unfortunately their insurance messed them about until mid August, which is when my insurer took over, only to run me ragged with objections, delays and third and forth party involvement until finally agreeing today to pay the claim only to discover 20 minutes later that they had told the restorer to do the work but for half the quote!!! This is my third red rag to a bull full frontal melt down of 2019. Since then they have, finally, agreed to pay in full. What a farce – I copied in the CEO of the assessors (twice) but he never had the courtesy to comment. FYI the company was Marker Study. I did get some financial compensation for the interminable delay but my mental health is in shreds from all the hassle. I am still waiting for the rider to agree to pay me back the excess and increase in premiums – to date they have claimed not to receive my emails. Am hoping this will not be another fight – I haven’t got the capacity to manage it appropriately.
14th January – for no apparent reason I just had a complete melt down just before my first shift of the year in the local cafe. I told (yelled at) a local person/regular/customer to f**k off and not be such a t**t before storming out to go and advocate for an old dear down the road (!!! yes really , I am normally a controlled and responsible, if not likeable, helpful individual). I am left full of shame and remorse.
18th January – the delays in the flat sale and the cost of Xmas have left us in the worst financial state of any January to date. It’s not that we don’t have funds we simply don’t have liquid assets – to the point of cannot buy fuel for the car!!!!! We have never been like this before . It has made me realise how we all really are just a couple of pay days from homelessness. Honestly. If you haven’t got cash or credit, everyone adds on additional charges because you default, making the situation even worse than it already was. And all because, in this instance, of the snail’s pace at which conveyancing works. Honestly. I have an empty flat, the buyer is not moving in, why does in take 4 – 5 months !!!! I had to borrow money from my dad!!! I’m a fifty plus year old woman ffs. This is not OK. I know its’s only for 2-3 weeks. I know I’m not a failure, but just right now, this particularly shitty January, I certainly do feel like I am.
Fucking January. Whatever the isue, I blame January for being such a c**t.
And there’s still nearly two weeks to go….
Roll on February…..
Please note that whilst I am mentally drained and totally at odds with the world right now, January, to date, has also had some good points and some wonderful friends and support in it. I’m Ok… I just thought sharing world be funny!