Self pitying ant, purely for my own benefit.

Tuesday 3rd August 2004.

I am supposed to be editing to within an inch of my life in between
calls, but I'm having a 'what the fuck, couldn't give a shit, all too
much effort' type day today. What the hell's it all for? What's the
point of writing shite books that nobody wants to read? Who cares about
anything, anyway?

I want a cigarette, I know that much. At the moment I'm finding it hard
to think of a reason not to go out and buy a packet. I am on day six
without so much as a sniff of a cig. Why? I'm in a shitty rotten bad
mood. Have to say though with being ill the first three days, this is
the first time that being without cigs has really bothered me. I
suppose if I do get through today without having one I'll have
something to feel good about. Can't see it happening though, I'm rashed
up to hell, stress levels are rocketing and my blood's warming up to a
good old rate of swellings and blotches. I am probably going to blow at
some point today. I don't know who with or to what extend but I can
feel temper simmering.

So holiday cancelled. Kid distraught. Cost Seventy five quid admin
charge because they'd already done the paperwork. Me pissed off.
Marty's not the only one who was looking forward to going away. I love
Barcelona it's one of my favourite places in the world.

No wages this week, with all the hassle I forgot to put my time sheet
in this morning. The accountant only works until lunchtime and if you
want your wages you have to have your time sheet in by eleven o clock
on the Tuesday preceding wages day. Bugger, can anything else go wrong
today? I'm going to London on Friday and the wages I was going to draw
to take with me `aint going to be there. Whoopyfuckingdo.

I have quit work today. I hated the dammed job anyway. I officially
finish on the 4th of September. I am going to take Marty to Alton
Towers on the Fifth I will start my new job in the shop from the sixth
if she wants me. She told me this morning that she wanted me from the
first of September. That's impossible, I don't finish my own job until
the fourth because I didn't know when she wanted me to start and it's
all been very haphazard I only put my notice in today. Marty will have
a day out and I will pull him out of school on the fifth if need be to
do it. And if the school create then I'll take him out of their useless
sodding school for good and if Martha isn't fucking happy then she can
go and get herself another sodding lackey. I'm not happy. I'm going to
tell her tonight that I'm not happy. I've had to arrange my hole
fucking life just to try and accommodate her and I'm on the point of
one nasty little hissy fit. I'm truly hoping that something comes up to
stop her going, and that's a horrible thought to have for a friend if
it's really what she wants to do.

Work have just rung me with TEN extra calls for Thursday. Two of them
are hour calls the others are half hours, these are as well as, not
instead of my normal rota. They are split over two separate trips to
Ulverston and that means that I'm going to have to put another tenners
worth of petrol in my car before I go. We are the only agency,
certainly within a fifty mile radius, that don't pay mileage. I'm
working a nightshift Thursday night, I'm going straight from that onto
my morning calls on Friday morning and I'm going to London with someone
I'm not very pleased with Friday after noon. I'm going to be knackered
in London (again) and at the moment I feel like cancelling that as
well. Why am I the only person ever asked to take on all this sodding
extra cover? It's always bloody me because they know I'm too soft and
too bloody stupid to say no. I told them I'm doing a nightshift on
Thursday night but they still put the pressure on for me to do the
damned calls. I tried to say no. I said I was going to be too tired but
they don't care. The calls have ended up on my rota. And I just feel
angry and resentful.

I've been so looking forward to going to London. Now even that feels
spoiled. Not only are Maurio and his family going to be there but the
daughter, who I'm not fond of, and her brood are going to be there,
plus Andi and her friend. They are all going to be discussing the big
move all the time and I'm going to feel in the way. I wish I'd booked
into my usual hotel.

I've done no editing. And I'm hoping I can calm down a bit before
Martha arrives.

Whinge, whinge bloody moan moan. Piss off, Sooz, I'm doing my own head
in now.

I'm so pissed off.
I don't want to work in Martha's shop.
I don't want to work for the agency.
I don't want to write.
I don't want to go to London.
I don't want to do ANYTHING.

I do want a fucking fag.