Words of warning and welcome:

This is very much my blog, so don't be surprised if this doesn't follow accepted patterns and norms. Obviously it started out as a blog about my cross-dressing but it has developed a great deal since then. It is a place where I can be anonymous and honest, and I appreciate that.

It will deal with many things and new readers would do well to check out the New Readers' Page above this and the tag down there on the right. Although there's nothing too bad in here there will be adult language, so be careful. If you think this needs a greater control, please let me know. Thank you!

Tuesday, 10 November 2015

Cwa-fee

Or: why I shouldn't be allowed caffeine.

At our local IKEA they have actual clay cups
but the point is the same. Coffee. Black.
Busy couple of days. I ended up back at IKEA to charge the car last night and planning storage for the home - something we've been looking at for a while actually so not a mere pipe-dream (though still just dreams really) - and thus I partook of their free coffee. This came after a day in which a difficult meeting was had. My colleague with support needed to be told, officially, that there was a chance that this will all end badly. So, they were told. It was not a fun meeting. I also suspected that the message hadn't really got home with the colleague. Anyway, after that 'fun' experience I had a coffee. And it worked.

Later in the day I had a phone-call from a parent - there is bullying afoot. The nasty sly kind. I spent a couple of hours chasing down evidence to confirm or deny the claims and was somewhat appalled by what I found. I taught, I investigated, I spoke to various people, I supported colleague who had an observation today to plan and be ready. It was... it was a busy day. At the end of it I was quite tired. Once home, I was spurned by the Boy and so I went to charge the car. I had a coffee. It was 8pm.

I can haz caek?

I had a slice of cake with my free coffee in an effort to not
have coffee but remain on the fizzy raspberry drink.

It was not effective.
On return, Tilly disappeared to research for her next book. Yes, she has a next book. The month off she had planned for 'us-time' has disappeared beneath the understandable excitement and happiness of having a next book to research. I played some computer games until late. I was caffeinated and I think I may have waxed lyrical before about how that's not a good thing. I avoided fictionmania and its ilk.

At 11pm I went to bed, Tilly was still reading, and we brought the Boy in with us - he wouldn't let go of me after I took him to the loo (it prevents bed-wetting) - and so I attempted to sleep. Tilly joined us about half an hour later, and attempted to have a conversation about her research. By this point I had realised the impact of my error with the coffee and was vainly attempting to actually go to sleep. After being kicked in the crotch about five times I gave up, but I still couldn't follow Tilly's half-asleep commentary on her research. It was an odd moment of half-life: Boy kicking me, Tilly half-mumbling and half-zoning out mid-sentence or mid-word with me tryin (and failing) to follow her line of thought and respond appropriately. I dozed ineffectively until about 3.30am when I needed the toilet myself.

Eh, close enough.

Like I have any of the physical or mental maladies
associated with genuine insomnia or akin to the worries that
women are socialised to have and to believe are perfectly
normal. Hell, I don't even have the kind of stress and worry
that I had three years ago. No, I'm just a pillock who drank
coffee too late in the day.
I dozed again until my alarm went off at 5am, then actually fell asleep until 6.30am. Cue a rushed morning routine with a messed up washing of hair (I need to do that again tonight lest I go mad) and much self-recrimination. Colleague was observed and found wanting. Not without cause. I was then hauled in to check that I had put in place the support that we all agreed needed to be there because this lesson showed no evidence that it was in place. I showed that it was. Not sure I've done enough to convince in this regard, but I know that I have actually done what I need to do, my colleague has just dodged everything in favour of... whatever the Hell it was that they were observed doing. It does not look good. Just before all of that kicked off another colleague had to rush home to help pregnant wife and so I picked up their work too. Finish the day: tired. Still got my work to do. Tilly has started reading, first upstairs and now downstairs. We can't talk whilst she reads (Hell, I'm not sure me typing is a good idea) but it does effectively prevent me from doing much else I guess. God, I'm bitter here and without any real good reason.

In any case: why I shouldn't be allowed coffee.


2 comments:

  1. There's drinking coffee and there's using coffee. I tend to use coffee. It's not good. Coffee steals resources from yourself a few hours in the future.

    I've survived my first day back at work, hence the vagueness.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Yay! For survival of first day back at work!

      And yes, I know what you mean. I tend to use coffee like people in the Culture use brain drugs - it's a tab you run up with yourself that needs repaying later but, in times of frenetic activity, it can sometimes be worth the later repayment.

      I tend to avoid it for that reason, but it has its place.

      Delete

All comments are welcome, I have a thicker skin virtually than I do in real life!