The day is mine. No work. Some dude is finishing off fitting new doors to the house, the family have all gone off to school/work/creche, it's raining heavily and I'm wide awake at 8am. I have an appointment with my manager at 2.30 this afternoon to discuss raising a grievance against MK for his outburst yesterday, which is a bit of a blot on the landscape of an otherwise perfect day, but it's all in a good cause. Today is the day Cycling Weekly comes out, today is the day of my meditation session; there are things to be thankful for, I just wish I didn't have to think vindictive thoughts today. It's my own fault. The manager in question has been incredibly supportive during my move back to work, almost as supportive as a good union rep should be, and he offered to speak to me about the incident on Monday, when I am due back at work, but I was insistent that it needs to be dealt with now, and he has agreed to see me today. It's not something that is worrying me unduly - I was a bit rattled yesterday, but slept OK (despite having run out of Amitriptylene) and feel quite calm about the matter today. One of my work and union colleagues said in an email yesterday "I don’t think I’ve ever disliked someone as much as I dislike him." I am very relieved to find that I am not the only one who feels this way. I was beginning to think my intense loathing was in some way irrational!
10:30am: As expected, the workmen doing our doors have left the job incomplete. It always happens in Pembrokeshire. Over a week ago they came round one evening to say they'd be doing the doors the following day, and they weren't seen again for over a week. There are a couple of sections of beading missing off the back door windows. He says he'll be back later to complete, but I will only believe that when I see it.
I have just had an email from my manager rearranging the meeting to 11am tomorrow. It's an annoyance as that's yet another incomplete day. I've already given up part of today to organising myself for it, and now I have to do the same tomorrow.
Can you see the pear slowly taking shape?
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