So, I was invited to join this new weekly linky called ‘The Lounge’, right?
It’s hosted by 5 pretty happening bloggers so when I received a personal invite from the Very Inappropriate Rachel (swears like it’s an art form), it felt like I was being invited to morning tea with the cool kids.
This week’s subject was ‘Things I thought I’d be better at’, and seeing as I’m shit at loads of stuff, I thought this post would write itself. I’ve been mulling it over.
I suppose I thought I’d be better at taking criticism, constructive or otherwise. I’m not too bad taking it from a stranger, but if I’m married to you? Forget it.
I could write about my foot and hand hygiene. I thought by now I would be better at washing hands before meals, not biting the skin on my fingers or filing back the rough rhinoceros dermis on my hooves.
I could write about tact and how I thought by 36 years of age I would have mastered the art of tact. I’m shithouse at tact. Even when I think I’m being delicate, I come across as subtle as a punch in the face. It’s part of my charm, or so I keep telling myself.
I definitely thought I’d be better at grammar. I recently wrote in an email to someone ‘you know you’re shit’ and created all manner of awkward confusion. The apostrophe catastrophe will go down in the annuls.
I thought I’d be awesome at deciphering my baby’s cries by now. I’m still fumbling around in the dark (metaphorically), as I fumble around in the dark (literally) and I’ve been doing this in one form or another for three years.Is she hot? Cold? In pain? Or just stubbornly not wanting to give up the last pre-dawn feed?
But if you really want to know what I thought I’d be better at……
Not time as in I can’t tell the time. Or even punctuality. I’m very punctual.
Time, as in, writing stuff in a calendar. Keeping track of dates.
I imagine my brain is akin to iCal and the steel trap will not let me down, but time and again, I simply forget shit. Appointments, play dates, birthdays… You name it, and I’ll thank you, because I’ve forgotten it.
I should, at the very least, write down birthdays. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I think I’ll remember, and then….. well, it’s not my birthday, so I don’t care.
I have one girlfriend who’s birthday I never wrote down but by some sheer act of God, I called her three years in a row, randomly, on her birthday. Sadly, I never mentioned the words Happy, or Birthday, but I think I got away with it just for sheer arsey flukey-ness. I missed it this year, however.
Should have jotted it somewhere as it seems my connection with the Universal Birthday Calendar has been severed.
I’m a shocker for the double book. Considering I really don’t have much of a life, I’m forever finding that I’ve told two or even three separate people that I’ll do something, or hang out, and it’s all one big cluster frock…..or whatever the expression is.
It doesn’t make me look popular, it make me look like a dick.
The other side of that coin is setting a date and it simply slips my mind.
So, back to the link for The Lounge…… I knew it was opening May the 2nd, and I was ruminating and contemplating and I was thinking that this ought to be my subject matter, this lack of diarising.
I truly thought, that by almost 40, I would be miraculously organised. I would keep a diary, or use ical (Lord knows I’m on my phone AND computer enough) and not be as unorganised as a teenager. I used to be a producer, FFS! My entire life was schedules, dates and diaries…..but to be fair, I was pretty shit at it then too.
I was better at the long lunch or wrap party part of my job. In fact,for a control freak, I’m quite the oxymoron.
Then, I looked at the date, and blow me down, it was May the 2nd yesterday and I hadn’t written a single word…and I ruminated and contemplated myself a late post……oh, the sweet, sweet irony.
It’s official. I’m going to do diary….
Would you recommend a paper diary or cyber diary?