I have been temping again, because I need the money but can't face the horror of committing to real life for any length of time.
And so the sunniest two weeks of the year saw me trapped in an unpleasantly new glass-and-concrete workhouse, typing non-stop from 9am to 5pm bar two fifteen minute breaks and half an hour for lunch which could be spent either sitting in the plastic rest area listening to girls from the valleys discussing their diets and/or weddings, or pacing nervously through Butetown cramming down a sandwich.
It has been so long since I took part in real life I had forgotten about the sinister handmade kitchen notices you find there:
Yikes. There were no less than eight notices in this company's kitchen. I wish I'd counted the exclamation marks. There would probably have been an interesting exclamation mark-to-notice ratio, worthy of scientific attention. It's the exclamation marks that chill me most, conveying as they do hidden depths of bitter, seething resentment. Or is it the clip art, the Microsoft equivalent of Chucky? Or maybe it's the passive-aggressive poetry. Whatever. All I can say is I won't make a mess or steal the food I promise, because I AM A FUCKING ADULT.
My other job at the university library finishes next week, and I will be sad when it is over because in my opinion there is no better place to work than somewhere where you are free to wear jeans, wander about, read books and gently mock students.
I found this graffiti on one of the study tables and was mightily impressed by the astuteness of the footnote:
So not all students are twats then.
I have some big decisions to make in the next week or two. The lease on my room ends on the 15th of June: do I stay in Cardiff, do I go somewhere else? How do I do either of these things with no job, no money? What kind of job do I even look for? How does a Weasel support herself when a Weasel's all-consuming passion is to do as little as humanely possible, eg read, think, doodle, go for walks, look out of windows, listen to birds etc? Why is the thought of getting a real job so frightening? Where has my bravery gone?
Sigh. Sometimes it's tough being me.
In the meantime, it is half term week and My Lovely Sister, being freed from her job for five precious days, is heading to Walesland.
The last time she did this, we ended up having an epic adventure.
The timing is good. Being utterly exhausted from the decision thing and also from having to work non-stop for two whole weeks, I am in dire need of an invigorating holiday.
Downstairs Monkey's looking forward to it too.