Sunday, 3 August 2008

I got hardly any sleep last night. And why?

Current mood:  excited

Apart from Mum continuously using me as a footrest, that is.
Well, we were supposed to be going to the monthly Chiswick car boot sale, as I mentioned yesterday.  So, despite going to bed just after 1am, I set my alarm for 6.20, determined to get there bright and early.  I can't usually function on less than seven hours sleep, so you can imagine how I felt when the alarm rang!  Still I got up, washed and dressed, got Mum off of the bed into the bathroom got David out of the living room and on to the bed (Yes, we work on a conveyor belt system here in Grottsville, don't you know?!), opened the curtains and window, made up my drink, got my breakfast, and sat down in front of the TV to record the TV commercials, and see if ITV have left any of their better kids' TV shows on air after the recent changes, so that I could get my Canadian accent fix for the weekend.
Mum came downstairs in a fowl mood, sounding off about everybody and everything.  "I have to do every f***ing thing, making his f***ing bed, and moving all of my piles of magazines up on to the settee.  What do you have to do except get your breakfast?"  When she speaks of making David's bed, she means straightening the sofa cushions so that she can sit on it all day after he's slept on it all night.  Considering I always have to sit on the floor these days, due to all her magazines, I don't really see why I should have to make his bed/her sofa!
She just kept moaning, but I switched off and ignored her, so I'm not sure what about.  David eventually came out of the bathroom at 8am (Mum and I had both been ready an hour earlier), and asked "Are you ready to go?"  How on Earth could Mum be ready to go, when he knows she always changes into different clothes to go out in?  And he knows I always change before I go out now too?  He's been hogging all the bathroom all that time!
So Mum got in a worse mood, of course.  We were supposed to be seeing the builder today, so she started kicking up a fuss about how she couldn't wear her only good pair of trousers to a muddy boot sale and then go to see the builder, so she changed into her old jeans.  Now admittedly her old jeans do have a huge rip in them just below the knee, BUT that would have been hidden away in her boot anyway, so David's outburst makes very little sense to me.
"YOU CANNOT GO OUT IN THOSE OLD THINGS, JACQUI!!!  People will think I don't clothe you properly!"  Um...that never worried him when I aged 12-14 had to wear terribly ripped cropped trousers, and walked around bent over double desperately trying to cover up my embarassing hairy legs, as it never occured to anyone that I might want to cover up what I wasn't able to change.  He never took me clothes shopping back then anyway.  Mum had to sew my clothes up again and again.  Idiot.
Anyways, an argument ensued, Mum wasn't allowed to go to Chiswick, so really I couldn't go either, so we stayed in all day.  We didn't go to see the builder either.  Mum has "lost heart in that house" (I must admit I have now that the fireplace has been smashed) and she wants to sell it again.  But, of course, I am stopping her doing so.  Um...so she doesn't see that we need to get out of this area now then?  She knows we won't move if we don't go there.
Anyways, I spent the day packing up ponies, praying that we will still move house somehow.  My parents are still arguing now, and my head is aching, so I am dreamily looking through Vancouver property videos on Youtube.  There's a gorgeous apartment for sale in Yaletown right now - if only there was a way... Hmm, the open-plan kitchens actually looks nice!  I never thought I'd hear the day I'd say that about an open-plan kitchen!  The guy's accent could probably sell me anything though.
Back to reality, Emma wrote to me today and we have agreed to go shopping together some time in the near future.  We still have to set a date and place, but I'm really looking forward to seeing her without David correcting me over every little mistake whenever I speak.  I really must write back to her...and Bonnie too!  I just realised it must be two weeks since I wrote to you.  Sorry!
Right, I really must dash.  Maybe now I can finally get some sleep...
Best wishes,
Desiree Skylark  xxx

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