It’s early, before 5.30 am and my day off

Husband’s, too. I had hoped to go to the beach, hang out, maybe movies… we only share one day off a week and and I am grateful for that. But he has to have blood tests and then has committed himself to SES maintenance day, which basically means that they go to their unit headquarters and pissfart around there, fixing cupboard handles.

 

Actually, no. It is all about doing all the stuff that they don’t have time to do during the regular meetings because they are doing training. This in addition to camps, callouts and the tightknit bonding of a group drawn together by working in disaster situations: I am proud of him for doing it, I would never object to it, even when it interferes with our finances, our social life and his working life (and it does, a lot). I am not really accepted by his group of friends, although he does try to include me and they put up with me tagging along, like the socially awkward little sister nobody wants, always left out of the in jokes.

 

These people are amazing: they give so much of themselves, for no money, often at the cost of missing paid work, for others. Their volunteer work is dangerous, although they train relentlessly to try and minimise risks: I worry every time he goes out on difficult calls because people do die doing his job. But they enjoy it and they always put their hands up to volunteer and I seem like the bitchy,mean spirited wife if I whinge about it so I only do it here.

 

And the time spent on medical tests? That is part of keeping him alive and if it helps and, if time taken for that, combined with his saving with the world, orange style, means that I don’t get quality time with my husband – any spare time after that, he will want to spend destroying things on his computer, ala ancient greek game, courtesy of stepson who bought him a package, thank you very much – then I will put up.

 

But not shut up, it appears.

 

I wish I could have slept through my normal waking hour. I wouldn’t even be feeling resentful then. Or guilty for feeling resentful.

 

 

(I just realised that the reason I am so cranky is lack of sleep – too hot to sleep well because I got very overheated during the day in the last really old piece of crap buses the company owns. 12 people and a hot day and I only worked half a day – it overheats me to the point I don’t feel well)

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About quirkycharm

I like to think that I have a certain quirky charm but I am probably being optimistic. Acquired taste, perhaps, which many don't acquire. This is about my fifth blog out there. My hosting companies kept going out of business or my IT exhusband kept hacking into them and I would move again. I don't do twitter, I barely do facebook, I don't try and 'monetize' my blog. I love my husband, my grown children and my job and this particular incarnation of oversharing my life comes at a time when I am the most content that I have ever been. I write always, sporadically during the good stuff and exhaustingly during the bad.
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