Friday, September 21, 2007

we're all doomed
After a summer of thumb twiddling, Evil Corp's crazy season is about to start. For some reason, all events, press tours and news announcements happen in the two months before the run up to Christmas. Also, my client has been given a new job with a worldwide remit, the essence of which is we will need a badger in every time zone to do what this badger does, but in the meantime perhaps I could just support those time zones myself? In previous years, as crunch time and 14-16-hour days approached, TA would help me cope by ensuring that I had nothing to worry about at home except sleeping, this will not be the case this year.
In a alternate universe, where I have more responsibilities than being a rich man's lackey and personal needs and such, my pelvis is telling me that stairs are soon going to be something that happen to other people. I'm slightly concerned about this as, well, we live at the top of quite a large number of stairs. Going down them is still fine, but going up? Well, that's something my pelvis does not like so much - add to the "my pelvis says no" file uncrossing my legs, walking, sitting, standing and lying down and perhaps you can understand my eagerness to see the physiotherapist.
The pup needs walks (TA has been MIA for two weeks now - damn those armoured polar bears) and also is not a big fan of stairs. Two days ago my pelvis and the pup squared up to each other. Pelvis: I am not carrying a dog as well as you up these stairs. Pup: Crap. We managed okay in the end: I sort of supported him via his harness over the first few stairs in each flight and then he was so scared he ran up the rest of them just to get it over with, but watching him cower spreadeagled on each landing was traumatic.
So, as you can probably tell, I'm watching the storm clouds build on the horizon. Stress is bad for Sprout, but I have two solid months of stress already booked on the calendar. I would like to have some more support at home, but there's no one available right now to provide it and anyway, financially and in every other way, we are better off having TA spend his days with the bears.
What on earth do other people do when there's no one at home to play wife and the corporate slave drivers come round with their whips?

No comments: