This Little Life Of Mine – Private Hell

Sunday, 21st January 2018

17.28

This website shit is really trying. I just got to a stage I was happy with and I think I am going to have to start again. This is due to missing posts I needed to import. It’s a sad state of affairs when your life consists of a load of waffle that you spout when you are bored or pissed off. If that’s what I have, it’s what I have. Not much to show for 2 years. Fuck cunt wank shit fuck!

Monday, 22nd January 2018.

07.31

The start of the one thousand point job. I had a big argument yesterday about money. I Fucking hate Money. The root of all nastiness. Obviously, I regret pretty much all of it. It’s just so tough being cramped in a small house. Constantly, feeling guilty for the inconvenience. No matter how much I’m told it’s ok. It’s not. Almost a year of living in bedrooms is taking its toll.

Maybe it is just me. It’s been over 2 years now that I’ve been waiting to start my life again.

08.19

Site inductions and usual shit dealt with, we are now, finally, getting coffee.

Life has got to throw me a bone soon. I’m really not asking for much. Later I’m going to send copies of Louis’ disability letters and a letter Carter got from her MS doctor about the strain this is causing on everyone.

Anyway.
This is it for a couple of weeks. It takes about half an hour around the M25. It’s near Hemel Hempstead. Solid work.

10.46

I’ve just got the feeling back in my left big toe. It’s been numb for 2 hours. It’s just Fucking freezing. The worst part is we are working indoors. It’s warmer outside in the smoking shed. This happens a lot.

11.21

That’s the day then really. More arguing via text. Freezing cold and usual shit. I doubt we will go mad today. write it off and start again tomorrow.

The times, they are a changin' my friends.

13.09

Slowly, slowly, creeping along. The afternoon does crawl. Enquiries made and documents to find. How slow the afternoon will crawl.

Run, Forrest Run!

18.11

I got home at a good time. I got the shopping in from the delivery. Found all the appropriate paperwork I could and sent it to the housing people. Cleaned up the dog shit in the kitchen and now I’m sitting, silently, on the bed. The atmosphere of the argument continues and doesn’t feel like its subsiding. There is nothing else I can do. I have to take Louis is army cadets then pop into my parents and do something for my dad. I’ll have to pick Louis up at nine thirty so I’ll have to wait to sleep. It feels like the only thing I have left. That’s what happens, I suppose. If it continues I’ll have to contact the homelessness arm of the housing people and tell them I have to move out and live in my car……

What else is there?