Monday ... should rename it to get-yourself-organised-day

Why is it that Mondays always are the days we give ourselves the good talking to? The day we start a diet. The day we will set the alarm early and get up and go for a brisk walk. The day we will make a healthy lunch at home to take to work. The day we get ready for work peacefully instead of a hideous rush and leave the house with wet hair and un-ironed shirt (it looks OK, doesn't it?  I just wont take my jacket off). The day we plan with our partner to have a date night this week. The day we eat Bircher muesli and fresh blueberries for breakfast.

By Tuesday we have fallen back into old habits, we tell ourselves that this week isn't a great week to be starting new routines.  We have a meeting with the boss, a visit to the dentist, the car needs a service and besides it's so bloody hot. Next week I will start. I promise. I will even go buy a new diary today and write myself a proper schedule.

It's like a mini New Year resolution every week. The feeling of being in control on a Monday wanes away as Friday approaches and we collapse in a  guilt-fueled, I-give-up Saturday. Sunday night, what I always call Hair Washing Night - as that's when my mother would wash our hair and make sure all our school uniforms were washed and ready and we were made to pack our school bags (often having to unpack the fish paste sandwich left there Friday) - is when we take stock of the less than satisfactory week and give ourselves a talking to, that starting Monday, things are going to change around here. (Can you hear my mother's voice here? I can!)



So what happens? Why this roller-coaster? Is it just me, or (I hope) do we all do this? We must do. I just read an article in The Australian that talks about our 5:2 lives. How we live for five days of work that leave us depleted and emptied, and try and fit another life, our social and personal life, into the two days left in the week. I see the problem as having higher and higher expectations. We don't just have friends over for dinner, we have friends over for a dinner designed by Delicious Magazine, in a house that Grand Designs inspired, with a walk around the garden modeled after Monty Don's French Gardens. Impossible standards, unless you have a maid and a chef and a gardener. And that's just a part of the weekend - there is the washing, cleaning, shopping, lawn mowing, pool cleaning, kids sports, car washing, dog washing, blower vac-ing .... and on and on it goes.

(Binge, crash: Welcome to the 5:2 lifestyle
SHANE WATSON THE AUSTRALIAN FEBRUARY 17, 2014 12:00AM)

So, never one to admit failure, I keep trying to get it 'right.'

I set my alarm this morning. I had written a plan (this was after an inspirational writing course this last weekend) to rise at 6am. Do my chores and be sitting at my desk, coffee in hand, open page and spend the next hour writing.

At 6:01am I turned off the alarm, mumbled to the dog, "I'll do it tomorrow" and went back to sleep. In my wisdom (I know myself well) I had set another alarm at 6:30am. 
6:32am - I found my phone stuffed under 3 pillows, and turned that alarm off too.

At what point do we give up completely and just get on with life?

Disclaimer - I apologise that my blog posts might sound odd and jaggered. I have spent the last few months (in blog exile) writing academic essays. I feel the need to reference everything and write a bibliography. Hopefully I will loosen up a bit as I write more!

The story of Harvey Norman, an Air-conditioner and Fawlty Towers Installers

I am absolutely furious with Harvey Norman, Midland and IC Cool installers.  We went into their store a week and a bit ago (10th Feb).  Bought an air conditioner for our rental house, as the old one had died.  Paid for it in full, plus the same price again to have it installed!  Was told it was on back-order.   Was told that the installers would take care of everything and we would get a call from them after they did the installation so we could pay for the decommissioning of the old unit, about $185.00.  Filled out a form that had all the details, where it was to be installed, our name and address, our phone numbers, the tenants phone numbers  etc etc.   Great.  That's another job taken care of.  

Get a call today from IC Cool (the installers) to book the job for 7.30am tomorrow morning.  Fabulous, sooner than we thought.  I did point out that we had asked that the tenants to be called direct (gave them both their numbers) so that a mutual time be arranged   Nope, they don't call tenants.  Ok.  I will play the telephone tennis. Call the tenant to see if 7.30am tomorrow morning suits her?  She has to juggle a few things with work, but yes, they want the air con done.  Call back CC Cool to confirm this.  They then say they have to ask me a few questions.  Fine, ask away.  We then discover they have the wrong address, they have our home suburb, not the rental one (despite us telling the sales guy this, and having to SPELL W.a.t.t.l.e to him, and a discussion about how lucky the tenants are getting an air con in their bedroom when my own home doesn't.)  So we gave him enough clues that it was to be done at a location other than our own house.

CC Cool.  "Oh, the place its being installed is not Basso?  Ahhh no, it's as we wrote on the form. Then they can't install tomorrow, we are only doing the Basso area! (At this stage I have said a few words that I was not proud of).  I asked if they have the form we filled out?  No, Harvey Norman keep that, they just send us an email with the details.  Seems they send the email with the wrong details.  I ask why they called the number we were now speaking on when it was clearly marked that Mr K's mobile was the primary contact number?  Of course, they were only send this number.  Not sure why I filled out the form at all.  

Soooo have to call back tenant, tell her so sorry, they can't do this tomorrow, it will have to be Friday instead.  Is that OK?  Yes she says (of course she did, the poor girl, she just wants her air con).  Call back CC Cool to say this Friday is ok with tenant. Then CC Cool asks where is the new unit?  Ummm Harvey Norman should know that?  Don't they arrange that between them?  Apparently not.  Somehow I have to have ESP to know the unit has come into stock, collect it and drop it off to rental house, all before the installer guys get there.  So call HN, ask to speak to manager as sales guy was USELESS. I ask why wasn't I called and told the unit had arrived as apparently I now had to arrange to get it from HN to rental house?  Manager says unit is still on back order.  Huh?  How come the installers rang me?  Don't you guys talk to each other?  

"I dunno" says the Manager.  

"Well if you don't know, who does?" I logically ask

This wakes him up, as apparently he had been sleeping, and he says he will find out and call me back.  I tell him that no, I will hold thanks, you find out and come back to me.  I hear clicking and sighing. 

He says "You there?"  

"Yes"

"Oh, well it looks like its still on back order."

"OK.  Well, when do you expect it in?" (I am deep breathing this)

"I dunno"

So I ask, with gritted teeth, "So if the unit is not in stock and you have no idea when it will be WHY THE HELL ARE THE INSTALLERS CALLING ME TO ARRANGE INSTALLATION OF A FANTASY AIR CONDITIONER?" 

"Uh, I dunno."

My blood pressure is terminal by this stage, but stupid, stupid me keeps up the performance ( by this stage, I really did think Basil Fawlty would come striding into the room, calling for Manuel).  

"So, what should I do now?" I asked  "Call you everyday to see when the unit arrives?  Ask for a full refund and go someplace else where they have actually heard about the phenomenon of customer service? "

"I dunno."

I say goodbye (despite wanting to hangup rudely.  I felt one of us had to show we were grown up) and call Mr K.  I have lost all patience, I am ranting and no good to anyone now.  I do have to call back our dear tenant and break the bad news to her.  I chicken out and sms her instead.

As you were.  Nothing has changed.  I still don't know when your air con will be done.  So very sorry.  Love Basil.

  

Sweet Nagomi Cumquat of Mine

 

Crappy Monday.  Not for any other reason than its Monday and all Mondays are crappy.  It’s a fact. 

This Monday, I got a smile on my face as I sat at my desk to see what the week will bring.   Looking out the window (yes, I was seeking distractions already) I see my little cumquat tree.  Poor thing, once a majestic, topiary, cat-walk-model Nagami cumquat, she was now a lopsided, bedraggled, half dead half alive shadow of her former self.

She looks like a drug addict, and this is why I had to move her onto my front veranda where I can put her into rehab, watch her closely, and nurture her back to health.  She needs lots of good food, water, fresh air and tender care.  I think a good haircut, some fresh clothes and a good bath won’t go astray either.

I blame the Kaffir lime.  He is handsome yes, but thorny and rebellious and was a real party boy.  Growing WAY outside his pot, his lifestyle spilled out and influenced the elegant Tahitian Lime; the smooth ladies’ man Kalamata Olive and my poor sweet, innocent Nagami cumquat.  I could see the aftermath of some of the parties, puckered limes on the ground, leaves strewn everywhere.  Sometimes it got really rough and there would be soil spilled on the paving.  Those times, I had to call in the police and get the place swept up.

Kaffir had to go.  He had sullied all that was nice and decent in the fruit tree village.  His ego had got out of control, being fed by illicit substances like the air-conditioner water.  His roots were firmly down into the seedy underground.  The other fruit trees, were content to stay in their little pots, happy with the life given to them.  Sure, they indulged sometimes, but Kaffir just had to take it a step too far.

 

Yesterday, he was evicted.  He was thrown out onto the streets to fend for himself.  I don’t know if he will survive, his life blood being severed from the connection with the underworld.  I know Nagami will pine for him, but time and healing will show her a better life. 

 

 

 

 

A busy week - dang it!

I love it when I look at my wall calendar and see a week with nothing planned.  Five whole empty days ... bliss!  It means I can just get my paid work done, then have all this time to write.  After today's perusal of the calendar, I saw a clear week - did a little happy dance inside .... then realised with regret that its just that I have been a lazy cow and not put everything on the calendar.  So a 'free' week turns into...

Monday -

1. Drop off sewing machine for a service
2. Find keys to trailer camper that were meant to be in the console of the 4WD (that Mr K spent 4 hours looking and ranting for yet failed to find)
3. Clean up 3 empty bottles of red wine (good stuff too!), numerous beer and tonic water bottles, BBQ remnants - all after last nights visit from Uncle J. 
4. Try to take today slowly.

Tuesday - A good day -

1. IKEA and
2. Spotlight ... maybe, hopefully.
3. Plan meal and drinks for camping this weekend.
4. Furniture purchased on the weekend is delivered

Wednesday -

1. My father in law arrives to stay a few days. 
2. The online writing course starts today - joy
3. Fill water tanks on camper, make sure everything we need is packed in there - that is, if I have found the keys!

Thursday -

1. Long overdue meeting with Accountant (who is VERY cute so makes it bearable) which means hours and hours of prep work
2. Pay the wages
3. Billing day - pages and pages to print, fold, stuff in envelopes and post

Friday -

1. Pack trailer camper and 4WD
2. Buy last minute food and drinks and ice
3. Drive down to beach camping place and set up camp

Ah well.  Next week is worse so better make the most of this.

Do Less Better

Do Less, Better. Not Do Less Better! I mean, don't do as much but what you do do, do better. That make more sense?

This has been my new mantra since the start of the year. It’s a way to remind myself to stop cramming too much into my already anxiety ridden life and to:

· Slow down.

· Be calm.

· Just get done what I can comfortably manage in the time I have.

· Stop pushing for more and more.

· Master tasks and take the time to do them thoroughly

(have to be careful here not to let this morph into perfectionism)

· To risk a cliché, take time to smell the roses

 

(oh mine smell divine today)

It’s working. I am not feeling as much pressure, and I am enjoying more things, even chores and tasks that don't seem to be much fun. The biggest improvement has been slowing down and enjoying the task of pegging clothes on the line. (I am serious!)  This used to be a real cause of stress. I would always be rushing about and remembering that I had a load of washing in the machine. It would be flung on the line, a few pegs thrown about and I would be left with a horrible feeling that it was a job poorly done.

This is the place that I came up with the mantra - at the clothes line (sad huh!)

Do Less Better

Now I take my time, peg out the washing neatly and with grace. I have made the area around the clothes line pleasant and appealing to the senses. Jasmine grows on the wall behind, pots of flowers, a nice peg holder, clutter gone.

How do you Do Less Better?

Renovation Day 3

I should rename this Frustrating Day.  The great momentum that we had accrued over the weekend, seemed to deflate somewhat this morning.  The highlight of the day was the realisation that is was Monday and we didn't have to go to work.  We were on Holidays!  What a delicious feeling.  Sad isn't it that we get excited about time off to work! 

Three rooms were almost completely emptied, with the library 80% done.  It was just a case of little niggly things to do that don't have much impact so you feel like you are not getting anything done. 

What we did achieve:

• Mr K sorted ALL his cables into plastic crates ready to put back into the shelves (as opposed to cables being in 24 different locations around the house, in plastic bags, in giant tangles stuffed in a drawer, in dusty cardboard boxes full of dead millipedes...)
• I went to Big W (again) and bought the last plastic boxes on the shelf (yes we bought out the entire shop!)  Hope they get another shipment soon.
• I polished more silver
• Mr K had 1 million phone calls about the things we had advertised in Gum Tree.  Mostly Indians calling about the computer we were selling.  It was a great deal and Mr K had priced it to sell.  $80 for a computer, 2 monitors, a router, a modem, and other bits and bobs.  After waiting around for people who did not show, we eventually had a chap turn up at 8pm and proceed to haggle again!  Mr K would not budge on price, not because he is mean, but because of the damn principle of rude people who want to rip you off.  He did however throw in an office chair, some spare mice and keyboards, a few kids books and whatever else he spied as he walked amongst our carport.  Sigh ..
• Mr K had to take and make numerous (like about 15) calls from staff and to clients - seems we are unable to take even 1 damn day away from the office before it all comes undone. 
• I polished even more silver, seems its something I now do when I feel anxious
• Cam came over for dinner and I made us all a awesome chorizo risotto which I will brag was rather good.
• I polished more silver

Tomorrow is not going to be much better.  We have a meeting at 9.30am with our business mentor. I very much like these meetings and Mr B always leaves us feeling very positive and determined.  I will make him cake to serve with my newly polished silver forks, sugar bowl and tea strainer!

Not another ... Monday

Monday's, are my nemesis - and you will know this if you read my blog on a regular basis!  I am not sure why I don't like Monday's - but here a few of my theories:

• I remember the stress and build up on the Sunday night.  All fun stopped and it was hair washing night and facing the dreaded question - 'did you empty your lunchbox when you came home from school Friday'?  Knowing full well that I didn't and 2 days later, the mostly un-eaten offerings from my mother would have transformed into creatures from the deep.  Especially if it was summer.  I would dread having to delve into my school bag and retrieve the offending plastic box, and like a prisoner on death row, walk the long hallway to the kitchen and face the music.  Then, with a peeved and harassed mother, it would be hair washing.  Don't ever make your mother cross when she has the potential (and alibi) to drown you!

• Mondays were also the day when you had to re-establish the playground friendships politics.  It was all too common for two girls in the group to have had a weekend playdate, or even more sinister, a sleepover.  New bonds and alliances could be formed in a very short period of time, especially if (a) the parents of both girls socialised as well and/or (b) they did each others hair. Gossip would be rife, and you could easily find yourself on the outer very quickly.  By Wednesday or Thursday, things would have settled down, but Monday was definitely the danger day.

• Mondays during my early working career were always rushed and stressed and with vows that next weekend we will not party and have hangovers and we will get our washing and housework done.  It was just awful facing Monday morning with the great clean underpant hunt and wishing I was more like my mother and had washed my work uniform early Saturday morning and now it was hanging, ready, in my wardrobe.  Recalling those days now, all I can feel is panic and trying to get ready in chaos.

• Then came the kids and my mothers pain and frustration became my own. (hmm bloody karma) Wet, smelly and now going mouldy sports clothes would be pulled from the school bag, accompanied by whining and unreasonable children who insisted they needed these today.  Does that mean they have been in the school bag a whole week?  Bad Mother.  Then there was the guilt of trying to cobble together a satisfying yet highly nutritious lunch box - multiplied by two.  After determining that mother Hubbard's cupboard was bare, proffering $10 each for the canteen usually did the trick for the boys - but nothing for your guilt or the household budget.

• Now the boys are grown and we are empty nesters, Monday's represent another failure.  If I have to go to work on a Monday then it means I failed to pick the right Lotto numbers ... again.

C'est la vie

Literally translated from French, it means "It is the life". Better translations lead to "That's life" or "it's life". It has to be said with a shrug and a relaxed, accepting tone of voice - of course with a French accent.  It does not mean you  are giving up, but rather accepting that you can't fight life, it is better to just go with it.  It is a gentle, serene saying. It also reminds me of the Serenity Prayer, a modern take on some old texts by American theologist Reinhold Niebuhr.  God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can, And wisdom to know the difference. I like this saying very much, I just leave out who I am asking for this state of mind.  I don't know why, but I always thought this was an Irish prayer, an old Celtic wisdom.  Maybe that's because the first time I heard it was when (Irish) Sinead O'Connor started her song "Feels So Different" with it.  AA has also adopted this as their opening prayer.  Ned Kelly said something similar when he was told what time his execution had been set "Such is Life".  Nothing much he could do about it, better to just accept it and be at peace.  Kelly has been placed as rebel hero status in Australia and his words have been immortalised in tattoos and tshirts throughout the bogan communities.  It is a very Australian attitude, and one that is better for our health than fighting the inevitable.  Then dear sweet Doris Day sang Que Sera Sera, whatever will be will be. So the Spanish also have a take on this saying.  I bought a cushion to remind me to not take life so seriously.  Or was it just because I like the colour?  But no matter how we say it ... c'est la vie, such is life, que sera sera, or the serenity prayer .. the same message is there.  Chill out man!!  Have a great Monday all.