Yesterday was a Wednesday, as I'm sure you are all aware. Being an alliteration fiend and prone to generalisation and categorisation, I have dubbed the middle of the week as 'Wacky Wednesdays' and yesterday was wacky on so many levels.
The name started because it happens to be my busiest day in work when it comes to workload and coincidentally is the day that everyone needs a bit of extra help and hand holding so I'm generally run off my feet. This is a phenomena experienced by most of work colleagues from the nods of agreement and complaints about weird questions and customers. My favourite yesterday was a woman who wanted books with a larger typeface than the one she was holding in her hand. Not a large print book you understand, just larger print than the size she had. Her only other requirement was that it was fiction. Apparently I was supposed to know how big the font was in every book. It's at times like this x-ray vision would be a bonus in life.
Then there was my friend who bought a goldfish for her boyfriend and had it hidden in a locker in work before she could take him home. Weirder still, the fish was basically sedated with this stuff that goes in the water to 'calm' the fish down as well as balance chlorine levels from the tap water- a kind of fish opiate it would seem. The poor fish looked so depressed and confused swimming around in the dark. Probably didn't help that everyone kept opening the locker to have a peak and make sure he hadn't gone belly up. Or that we put a leaflet with a kitten on it next to the bowl to see it's reaction.
I also managed to get absolutely drenched on the way too and from work. I may as well have gone wading in the river. The heavens opened literally as I stepped out the door sans umbrella without time to hunt for it properly, bucketed down for the entire fifteen minute walk to the train station in which I discovered that my trainers really, really need replacing now that the sole of the shoe is coming away and letting in all the water. Owning canvas shoes and living in Wales is not the brightest idea, but I do soldier on. Despite having a sopping wet right foot. And then of course, it stopped raining the minute I got on the train. Sod's law isn't it?
Of course, it stayed dry in the run up to leaving work and then mimicked a biblical flood as I stepped out of the door and had exactly the same problem on the way to the train station that I did 9 hours earlier. I got more wet on the three minute walk from work than I did on the fifteen minute one from home. I was also carrying big cardboard boxes for packing (more later) so I was getting drenched and alternating between shielding the front of my body with the boxes to using them as an umbrella, getting weird looks from all the smokers hunched together like cattle in the awnings of pub doorways.
If that wasn't a weird enough sight on a Tuesday evening, I finally make it into the relatively dry station and see that I was actually pretty normal looking (even if I did resembled a drowned rat)compared to a soggy Sylvester and Tweety Pie on the opposite platform. Then after watching the rail staff teasing people by changing the platform number of a train and dangling a carrot train, as it were, on the original platform ('The train on Platform B is not for public use. The Train for a Valley Town an Hour Away has moved to Platform G...') and watching the panicked and scurrying masses adapting to this quick change, the carrot train as I've dubbed it, pulled off and I noticed that it's been named after a certain prominent and living Welshman's honour. That narrows the list down considerably doesn't it? Yep, one carriage proudly bore the name 'Sir Tom Jones'. So yeah, definitely Wacky Wednesday.
In other news, I've finally got my house! Yay! It's small but really nice. Unfortunately the stress hasn't quite abated yet as we have only one front door key between 3 of us which is causing all manner of problems even though only one of us is in there at the moment. And then of course there's the flakey roomy who is on again off again with the idiot boyfriend who may or may not be moving away (read not: he's too lazy too hold down a job, he's not going to cart his arse across country) which is sending me and my other house mate into a blind panic worrying that he is going to try and move in with us. This is not going to happen, I won't let it. He's a grade A f********* and words I won't even hint at in print. I do not want to live in a house where I've got two people at each others throats all the time. I suppose it's her choice at the end of the day if she stays with him or not but he makes her absolutely miserable, she's always crying she's never happy, she's drawn, pale and not eating properly and he treats her like rubbish. He mentally and emotionally abuses her and everyone can see it but her, the one person who really needs to see it! It's very frustrating and I worry about her.
I should be packing right now so I can move in this weekend. It's exciting but a bit scary too. I've lived away from home before, but this is properly moving out now, not having 2 houses on the go. Look at me, I'm all grown up (wipes away tear) how did it happen so fast?