AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!

First of all, a dream I had forgotten to write about when I last posted:

I am in London (apparently…you know what dreams are like); since my mum is somewhere else and it will be a while before she’s done, I decide I’ll go to Hull for a quick visit, so I catch my train and lo!, I am at the students’ union, precisely at the bookshop, huge, beautiful, sunny, with people everywhere, the store on two floors and so many shining books…I am nearly moved.
Mum calls and she says that she will be done in a short while, so shall we meet in half an hour at our usual place for a tea; I say “ok, perfect”, and I think of the very nice tea-shop with the small tables outside in the sun and cups of sweet tea and scones with jam (I suddenly think that I have Cambridge in mind at the moment). I then remember that I must catch the train to go back to London to meet mum, so I start wondering about to find the train station, which I’m sure was close to the students’ union, so I walk down the hill (and this is a memory from Canterbury) and find directions for nearly every place in England except the train station, so I start walking back to the direction I am sure I came from….
And this is how I wake up at 6.53 sharp.
And all I can think is “why would I want to go to Hull?”
And: “oh, I so need to go back to London, even just for a couple of days!”
And: “I miss Swansea!”
(and probably I also miss Hull, for that matters….Or the idea of Hull as I lived
my exchange year in 2000, as a student, with friends from Europe and the U.S., with dinners and parties and study sessions at the library, and coffees at Planet Coffee and all that. It was a good time, all in all).

The point is, I have just found out that I have “earned” six days of vacation to be used (possibly) within June. So my plan is to really go to London for a weekend, in march though, and I will also go to Paris, where I’ve never been, and I will use these days off to travel. My, not that they are a real lot of time to use…but still, if I take a Friday off here and a Friday off there…all in all it’s about 6 weekends, isn’t it? Or slightly less if I also take a Monday off to make a longer weekend. Cool…

Ok, to sum up the first day of the week:
- I woke up with the sound of genius brother using the world’s reserves of water (if he takes a shower every morning, no wonder we are running out of water)
- I came to work and the first call was from angry boss because HE had misunderstood an email (which I had got clearly, but wouldn’t dare contradict him)
- Got another call from angry boss, angry because the secretary had cut his call while trying to put him on conference call, and he had forgotten that the telephone people were here, so he was barking on the phone for the mess we were making with the lines (have I mentioned I hate using the phone? Really really really hate it? I’d rather drive all the way to Germany than call on the phone our agent there, and this says a lot on how I HATE the phone)
- After a promise of being alone for lunch, father shows up (late), ruining my plans to watch Starsky and Hutch in the kitchen while playing with my brain-training.
- Once back at work, our agent from Bosnia calls because our idiot agent has called her because our boss has called her. As a result of a long story with many “he said, she said”, I get shouted at fir not asking the boss in the first place. I would have, I’d like to reply, but my investigation brought me to him while going backwards, and going backwards meant that the first has become the last to ask!
- Less than twenty minutes later, I get shouted at again for not having a copy of an email, which I personally didn’t need since when I showed it to my boss the first time he simply read two lines and then decided that the offer would be according to his personal idea of what to put on a 20’ container. Now, all of a sudden, the offer MUST be prepared according to what the agent wants, therefore I am a stupid disorganised un-attentive person (he doesn’t say this all, but his shouts are more than enough). Consequently, I spend about ten minutes crying in the bathroom.

And it’s only Monday.
And it’s not six o’clock yet.

I think this is the right time to turn to drugs.