I'M Pissed Off

A 2-post collection

AUGH (again)

New job, new rules. On one hand, Beloved is no longer in Cubicle Hell working 9-5. On the other hand, Beloved now seems determined to work 24/7.

When I went to bed, Beloved was working on some program, as they had been all evening. The hot, fresh, yummy food I had made for them had gone stone cold.

When I got up in the morning, Beloved was still working on some program. They had eaten maybe three bites of the dinner I had made and said that it was awful.



Prawns aren't cheap. There's been some kind of kerfuffle over a disease in foreign prawns, and now they're like their weight in gold. I went to the trouble of replicating something Beloved said was delicious. I went to extra effort to do that. And then they let it get (a) cold and (b) off.

Thanks, love. Thanks so much for showing an appreciation for what I do for you.

Meanwhile, I'm still waiting for my potential agents to get back to me. Rather like sitting under the Sword of Damocles, only I have to carry on as if I can just cope with everything. Until the minute I snap.

And I can't talk to Beloved about this, because when they're in the Programming Zone, they just don't fucking listen to anything. Including my complaining that they're wrecking their fool self.

But that program is super important, apparently. There might even be a deadline. I don't frelling know because the other thing Beloved doesn't do in the Programming Zone is fucking talk. And if they keep up this all-nighter shit, it's going to ruin their health.

We're still not doing any kind of exercise. I can see my fat building up thanks to the sedentary nature of what we do all day. Diets only work with exercise. They don't work on their own.

And the lack of haptic feedback is getting to me. First, it was the intestinal distress that reduced contact. Now it's work stealing my hugs away. And without haptic rewards... I get depressed.

Translated, I need hugs and pettings.

Beloved is going to get something of a rant about this noise, later. But first, I need to go do my work.

One Old Fart's Opinion: Suncorp Insurance Repairs Process

A little while ago, Hound got into my car and ripped its shit.

I called my insurance people - Suncorp - and they promptly arranged to have it all go away for the measly fee of $500 up front.

It’s okay if you don’t remember the original blog. It’s been a while. That was published March 10th. It’s been a whole month and a day since then.

They first told me “two weeks&

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