Monday, 6 July 2009

Dasty Allergies and Even Dastier David (Oh, and the annoying men are bad...atchoo!)

Current mood:  sneezy

David went for a job interview early this morning - I doubt he'll get the job, but he's still hopeful.  Actually, I hate to think what would happen if he DID get a job, considering he keeps coming up with excuses not to ring Rob Williams as it is.

Mum and I spent most of the day clearing up in the kitchen again.  It's truly exhausting and heartbreaking work (so much stuff has been totally destroyed by the insects in this house).  Not to mention my dreadful allergic reactions every time we uncover another load of carpet beetle skins and poop...I hate squashing the live ones too.  They're the one and only kind of insect that really makes my skin creep.

Mind you, it's not really surprising that I have such awful allergies when you consider the state of our kitchen floor (which we finally uncovered today...and this is right opposite where we prepare and store our food!)

Images deleted by Tinypic before I had the sense to re-upload all my photos to my Photobucket album and update all the links.  I apologise for any inconvenience caused!

And there's so much more still to do.

Today, we went through the suitcase containing all Mum's costume dolls which her Auntie Eva (Woodberry's original owner) had brought back from various holidays in the 1960s.  We wanted to take them to Woodberry when we finally moved in and have them displayed in a cabinet over there...but the insects have been through a load of the dolls' dresses - mainly Mum's favourites, of course.  We spent TWO HOURS picking off carpet beetles, both dead bodies and live ones in various stages from egg right up to fully-grown beetle.  Yes, LIVE ONES.  So we reckon the damage is all pretty recent (certainly in the last few months), so we SHOULD have been out of this dump and the dolls should have been fine.  So the damage is all Sickton's fault really.  Mum was actually sobbing when she found her two favourite monkey toys had been packed away with the dolls.  They now have massive holes in their faces and hands.

Just then David walked through the door.  "What's wrong?" he asked, in an uncaring tone, reaching over us to get to his bottle of Coke.  Mum told him about the monkey (we'd only found the first one at this point) through her tears, and left me alone to sort out the rest of the dolls, as it was "upsetting her too much to continue".  David followed her into the lounge, and I heard him shouting at her.  "IT'S YOUR FAULT, NOT PICTON'S!  YOU SHOULD HAVE SORTED OUT THAT CASE A MONTH AGO!"
Why does he constantly feel the need to stick up for an architect who did absolutely nothing for us, and has caused all these delays meaning I'm still stuck in a house full of insects which are literally killing me and destroying all our stuff?

I felt so sorry for Mum.  When she eventually returned, I'd packed all the dolls into ziplock bags (removing all the insects first to the best of my ability), but David refused to come out of the bathroom and bring the hoover downstairs for an hour or so.  And by that time there were carpet beetles ALL OVER THE BAGS again, including INSIDE!  They even get into supposedly airtight plastic boxes.  I just don't know what to do.  I'm dreading getting to all my own plushies, especially my MLPs.

I'm seriously worrying about the swine flu now.  Three more deaths have been confirmed in this country today, and my mum's cousin (who has bad asthma, by the way, so has good reason to be concerned) tells us that a kid who lives opposite has got a severe case of the H1N1 virus.  I figure most of us will get it over the next few months although hopefully the majority will only have mild cases.  I'm more concerned about Mum and I because we still have no beds, and how can anyone cope with ordinary flu while sleeping on the floor with bad allergies like mine?

And then just to make my day even brighter, the big-headed, ugly, illiterate Myspace men returned.  Apparently, they still have the idea that I'm stupid enough to want to sleep around, and arrogant enough to think I'd choose them.

First we have the 31-year-old from Wimbledon:

hey sexy, how about drinks sometime?

I don't drink, and even if I was the kind of, um, 'man-adoring' girl they're after, why the heck would any 18-year-old want to meet some random pervert off the internet with that kind of age difference?  Even I'm kind of flabbergasted by this one's inflated ego!

And then some guy around my age in the - far too! - local area (Bad language ahead)...


fucking helllllllllllll,,,wow

i can wish x

Yep, and you can continue to wish (no 'x' included!), mate.  Go and find someone else to 'X'-post your stupid message to.  Oh, well.  They make an amusing closing topic for this blog anyways.

Well, not quite a closing topic.  I just want to finish by saying thank you to Janyse for providing us fans with a free copy of Dreamers.  I spent about an hour downloading it last night (stupid dial-up), but it was well worth the wait.

Best wishes,
Desirée Skylark  xxx

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