Shagged Mr. Enthusiastic for first time in several weeks on Saturday, which was a very good thing. :O)
Then spent delicious night with Mr. Unpronounceable tying him to bannisters and denying him oxygen etc.
Then, on Sunday afternoon, met up with Mr. Enthusiastic's mum and her new boyfriend of 3 weeks. When Mr. E told her about the October France holiday, they told us that they were getting married on the 20th October, and *gracious me chortle giggle chortle I do hope you can make it back for that*. They're getting married at 11:30 in the morning on the day we're coming back from France.
But this fucks everything up, because it means we'll have to leave the previous day, and somebody will have to drive us to the station or airport.
I could have got out of it easily, I think, were it not for the fact that when Mr. E went off to the loo, his mum asked if I would sing at the wedding. I was on the spot, and I accepted, of course - as graciously as I could, muttering something about being honoured to do it and so on. And I really don't want to. And I don't think I should have to, because it's not as if it's a wedding I should be particularly interested in going to, and I haven't had a holiday abroad in 10 years (if you don't count studying in Taiwan), and I don't want to cut it short by even one day. Plus, if I have to sing it'll be on my mind the whole week, and I won't enjoy the rest of the holiday as much as I should.
And Mr. E's very pissed off with me. He thinks I'm being a selfish cow and should go to the wedding because a) I agreed to and b) he doesn't want to have to go on his own. And yet he admits that there is considerable doubt over whether even some of his brothers and sisters will go. How then can I be expected to?
But I'm pretty sure now that I'm not going to go. I can live with being selfish. But not with doing things I really don't want to do just to please other people (there are exceptional cases of course, but this is not one of them).
And then this morning there was a front-page article in the FT quoting our head of department's comments on a report which has just come out. A report which none of the rest of us have been involved with producing. And he's off today and tomorrow. And I got shouted at by someone this morning when I couldn't immediately figure out who to put them through to (I couldn't answer their questions, Adam as I say is off, and Jon was on the phone). You know the sort of thing - Bitch:"Look! This report is on pages 1 and 3 of the Financial Times, and I would think it is in your company's interests to speak about it, don't you think so? Me(quiet tone of voice indicating utter submission, because if not, I would have been unable to keep the tinge of hatred and absolute rage out of it):"Yes, it is" Bitch(sarcastic):*Thank* you.
If I didn't have so many debts to pay off, I'd give up work and get a part-time job as a shop assistant. Part-time, mind.
And one day, by God, I'll do something just like that.