2004-12-15 - 7:02 p.m.

Tearing along in a 1972 Beetle, wide eyed and shaking my fist at the heavens.

(that was me at 4.53pm)

Yup, a had a good ol' dose of 'My Bleedin' Life' again although I do have to admit that perhaps 70% (ok, 95%) of the nightmare scenario was due to my world class ability to procrastinate. I really wish there was some kind of procrastinators competition as I have been in training for YEARS now and I've become really rather good at pulling off the last minute goal after thinking about it for weeks.

You wanna know the story?

Ok, y'know that job that I want? The Coroner's Assistant one? Well, if you read my diary you will know that the DSS moron let me down and that the promised application form didn't come and that I eventually tracked down a copy on-line that I could print off. That happened last Friday. The closing date is this Friday and I've been lost in thought about how much I'd love the job all weekend and for the past few days. Lost in thought so much I didn't fill in the application form. Yesterday I decided that I would spend the day working on the thing to make it really good and get it sent off with LOADS of time to spare remembering that the post is even slower than usual at the moment what with the crimbo rush.

So there I was yesterday. Sitting at the desk in the office, application form under the plate holding my toast and marmite, atop the scanner and discarded. I wrote a long email to diaryland buddy Tree (waves) and checked my emails. I had a phone call from the garage saying that they'd done the work on Malcolm (my Beetle) and that he was ready to be picked up so that's what I did. It's great to have my car back by the way. There's nothing better than arriving at your journey's end covered in oil, stinking of petrol and making everyone look around 'cause you've got a 'stinger' exhaust which makes the thing sound like a tank :)

....anyhoo, back to the story. I went to collect the car, came back and sat at the desk.

...and phoned my Mom and told her I couldn't talk for too long 'cause I needed to fill in my application form.

...just after I did turd patrol in the back garden (not my own, DOG turd patrol)

...and checked my emails again

...and read some Diaryland diaries

...and checked my emails again

...and then, this is my best ever yet. OFFERING to go and see Phoe's nightmare of a father in the Beetle cause it makes him laugh.

What's the matter with me? I justified it all in my brain by saying that I could fill out the form in the evening and send it today. Heck, I could PAY EXTRA to guarantee it's arrival for Thursday which would negate the postal problems. Cool.

....So I didn't actually fill out the form last night, and I had to play spider solitaire for most of today (heck, I lost too many games in a row and made myself a rule that I had to win at least 5 games right after each other before I could fill out the form). Then the guilt set in and I started to fill out the easy bits in between spider solitaire moves. I finally got into it at about 3.30 and began to fill it out in earnest (in between reading more emails and various other assorted bits of shit). I eventually got to the bit that wears me down emotionally; the bit where you have to go through the 'person spec' and sell yourself by writing stories about how fab 'n groovy you are and how they NEED you to work for them.

I haven't been very successful of late have I?

I typed and typed and made myself sound like bloody Quincy and his mate Sam rolled into one. It was good, I've got to admit it, I made myself sound bloody perfect for the job (watch it go to someone internally now). Anyhoo, Phoe went out and left me to it in peace and I furiously worked on it. At 4.10 I reckoned I was nearly finished. At 4.30 I reckoned I was nearly finished. At 4.40 I was shitting myself. At 4.51 I left the house running (the post office shut at 5pm).

It was already closed. Wednesday - half day closing!

Ahhhh, I went around the corner on 2 wheels to try and make it to the main post office. Old women and cats scattered as my car zoomed past sounding like a damaged Messerschmidt limping back to it's airfield. At every junction the engine cut out and I had to drive and bump it at the same time. I hit the main drag and saw my destination. Nowhere to park. I went past, it's on a one-way system so went around the corner and up the little side road to come back on myself. STILL nowhere to park so I went around again talking to any kindly spirits who might want to help me:

Please let me find a parking space right outside the post office, and can you make it big 'cause I've got a shit turning circle on the Beetle and I won't be able to manoeuvre it into a small space quick enough. I know I shouted at the carol singers but I did give 'em a pound I could ill afford the day before. Go on, I'll be good. I'll do something kind to someone tomorrow just let there be a nice big space outside of the post office

No parking space.

Banging the wheel and gripping the thing hard I shouted (through gritted teeth) "Thank you very bloody much, that's perfect, bloody perfect! You think it's bloody funny don't you? I know, don't think that I don't know your little games. Give me a break why don't you? Ahhhhhh!"

Went around the corner and back onto the little windey road again only to be confronted by 3 BLOODY CYCLISTS attempting to get up hill. I couldn't see to get around them and they were barely moving. This was when the vein in my temple threatened to burst, my hands went into a claw and I actually caught myself shaking my fist at the heavens and yelling at the sky. I won't tell you what I said but it wasn't very pleasant. I eventually got around them and covered them in exhaust fumes as payment for my Basil Fawlty transmogrification and parked miles away from the post office. Running and looking like shit I entered.

They closed at 5.30 and I had plenty of time.

(cough).

Like I say, it I could only make myself do things in plenty of time everything would be peaceful in my life :)

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