Not Having a Wonderful Day

This morning a child tried to hurt me for the second time in two weeks. Last week he dug his fingers into my hand while shaking hands (the morning handshake is a normal Montessori thing), and that's my bad hand so I ended up having to ice it and not being able to lift anything heavy all day; and this was after I'd previously and clearly warned him that I had a sensitive hand and his handshakes had to be careful. Today he 'patted me on the shoulder' so hard that my shoulder was still aching two hours later. I immediately went and told the principal, nearly crying, and the principal had a LONG chat with him then a talk with both of us and the child accepted that he'd done the wrong thing and understood why it was a problem (he's a very defiant, confused and complicated child, behind academically and socially too) so that was somewhat okay, but it didn't make me feel great.

Then my co-teacher made a mistake in dealing with a child that allowed a child to make a false accusation against her - for the second time. She went home feeling sick (and partly because the principal was concerned that the child's parents would be violent towards her), so I was left all on my own with the kids all afternoon. We had an alright afternoon, it was okay, just exhausting because I was trying to be two people and deal with twice as many questions and queries all afternoon. And I'm upset with her for being so thoughtless, furious with the parents and the trouble-making kids for putting her in that position, and generally irritated at the whole Parent vs Teacher mentality that allows children to get away with monstrous disrespect and hide behind their parents' blindness.

So I get home eventually, knowing that we have a rent inspection tomorrow. We're going to hit the dusting and mopping when my housemate gets home, which is fine, but I spent my after school time doing two loads of washing, tidying various things, moving boxes, and generally getting the house ready for cleaning. In the process I managed to cut my thumb, and seconds later (while still looking at the thing I cut my thumb on), nearly shut Jemima in a door, and did hit her around the head with it by accident. At that point Jem went under the bed to sulk and I lay down on the floor and cried like I'd wanted to since the kid hit me this morning. I still feel like howling but I managed to pull myself together and go make dinner. I still need to wash the dishes, and my housemate still isn't home so there's still the wiping and dusting and sweeping and mopping to be done together when she gets here. I'm not tired exactly, just emotionally worn out and wanting to have a really good cry, preferably not while on a floor. What a day!

On the upside, I'm getting an even better laptop than originally planned - they can't do it in purple in the time frame, so I'm getting the black one but with enhancements as compensation. I'm going to buy one of those stick-on vinyl tops, probably using one of my own photos of UWA, to customise it. It'll probably be even cooler that way than with purple, and I can change it if I get bored :D This laptop is going to be all kinds of awesome.

Addendum: the house is clean, and I'm about to have a lovely shower then an even more lovely glass of Bailey's as I settle into bed with a book. I had a chat to Mum and a long extended whinge to my housemate and I'm feeling much better now. I rather suspect there's something hormonal going on, on top of everything else!

Quick check-in

Yes, I'm still alive :)

I've been at the new school for two days now and it's delightful. Everyone is nice, everyone is relaxed (even when they're frantically busy!), everyone is helpful, everyone seems to love their job. My co-teacher is great fun and my classroom is gorgeous. The whole thing just feels right.

And I scored an electronic organ! It recently stopped working and the school can't really afford luxuries like repairing an organ they don't need and only inherited in the first place, so they were just going to get rid of it until I sputtered and put my hand up and asked if I could have it. So I borrowed Dad's trailer today and brought home an organ. I'm still waiting for G (housemate) to get home to help me get the thing OFF the trailer, mind you. And I won't get it repaired until I've got the money. But once I've repaired it, it's mine! Mwahahaha!

Anyway . . .

I'm happy, the living arrangements are working out really well (G and I are two peas in a pod and we work perfectly as housemates, I couldn't be more pleased), and I feel like crying every time I reflect on how lucky I am. This is a good thing!

Adding: G decided to go late night shopping, so I decided to go get the organ off the trailer by myself, despite it being a huge heavy thing. This went fine until I stood it upright. I managed to catch my ankle with either the foot or a pedal as I was trying to prevent it from dropping the last 10 centimetres and slamming into the concrete. So now I've got my ankle elevated and an improvised icepack on it (farewell frozen beans, I never really loved you anyway). There's already a spectacularly blue line of bruising where it landed, and I'm just hoping I haven't done any internal damage. I most definitely do not have time for that!

I did, mind you, stop the organ from slamming into the concrete :D

Have I Mentioned . . .

. . . how much I hate the heat?

It got to about 42 here today, on the 14th day of a heatwave that has seen maximum temperatures above 37 C every day for two weeks. And consequently I'm lethargic, can't seem to get hydrated no matter how much I drink, have an inconsistent appetite, can't sleep at night and can't wake up in the morning, keep getting headaches and generally feel like crap. And because my temperature is off I keep burning my mouth on hot food, which just isn't fair!

The heatwave is supposed to break tomorrow, which means that we're expecting a maximum temperature around 33 degrees instead of the 38, 39, 40+ days we've been having. It's better than nothing, but Perth is only expecting 27. *sigh* I can't wait to move!

The good news is that as of Thursday I have a future housemate. Her name is Grace and she's pretty cool, and we have a lot in common, so I think it will work out well. On Friday we put in a house application, so we've currently got fingers, toes etc crossed while we wait to see if it's accepted. Then of course we have to start paying for the damn thing. I HATE rental bonds! Oh well, it will be managed somehow-or-other.

So . . . yeah. I'm hot and sticky and feel like crap, but stuff is happening slowly and in a few weeks' time it'll all be managed and sorted and settled. I start at the new job in two and a half weeks - how scary is that? Scary but wonderful. I just have to move first . . .

More On That . . .

The author of Getting Past Your Past talks about "D-BOM" moments. The name comes from the saying "dawn breaking over Marblehead", which is from Massachusetts apparently and, in my own words, means 'finally realising something you immediately realise that should have known already'. The GPYP method of recovery leads to many of these. And in relation to the housemate business, I've had one.

If looking after myself and doing the right thing by myself means letting someone down, then that's OKAY.

Especially if it's someone so utterly unrelated as a potential housemate I've only just met!

The unhealthy me of even a few months ago would have agonised over the decision and probably ended up going through with the house-sharing arrangement because I would not have been able to stand the idea that I was letting this person down. I would have said "but I SAID I would . . . I SAID so . . ." and let fear of others' disappointment or disapproval rule my decision-making process. I would have quailed at the idea of backing out, and convinced myself that it was best to leap in head first and take this opportunity, rather than waiting for the right opportunity to come along. Hell, I've done it enough times with relationships!

But the me of today thought, what does it matter? He's just some guy who's looking for a housemate. He'll find another one. I am under no obligation to him, the universe or anyone else to go live in a suburb I hate in the wrong part of town and make myself miserable for a year, just because some guy might think I'm a cow for changing my mind.

In fact, I realised he's welcome to think I'm a cow for changing my mind. He can even call me one, if it helps. It doesn't make my decision any less right! If he did react that way, his negative emotions would be about him and his needs, not about me and mine. Not my problem.

I have the right to put my needs first!

D-BOM!

Ha!

Christine 1, Bananaheads 0.

On Saturday I had a meeting with a guy who is also trying to set up a share house. We got along alright and it seemed to be viable, so I gave a tentative answer of "yes, start looking and we'll go from there". But on the 2 hour drive home I started critically analysing the guy's actions and words and how they compared, and I realised that he was not as great as he was making himself out to be. When I looked back over the conversation, he talked over the top of me repeatedly, and I had to keep repeating myself because he wasn't actually listening when I was speaking. He was only interested in one suburb (the one adjacent to his work) and wanted all his own stuff in the house ("just sell yours!" - no thanks, I like my stuff). He also wanted to just lie about my having a cat on the rental application, which I was in no way okay with.

When I got home I found an email from another house seeker who is actually looking in the area I want to live (she works a couple of suburbs away from me) which reminded me that there are other options out there. So I sent the guy an email explaining that the suburb he wanted was too far away, and also not really my sort of suburb, because I was a hills girl and wanted somewhere in a natural setting, rather than sterile newly-established suburbia which is where he is looking.

Well, I just got a response, suggesting a place much closer to where I want to live. Okay, but it's a 3x2 apartment that would be WAY too expensive for two people, and with three or more it would be way too crowded (I had said I needed two small rooms or one big one); it'd be totally unsuitable for a cat, and even more sterile and prissy than the suburb we were originally looking at. Way to miss the point! For an added bonus, he also called me Christy instead of Christine. *headdesk*

Not going there. NEXT!