Why do things keep getting worse?

So much for any chance of Monday being any better…

I had to get up earlier than I find easy to, thanks to my meds, to spend most of the day at Cribbs Causeway while all the data from my old MacBook moved to the new one. I decided on a new one, as it cost plenty for a screen replacement, and it was getting on a bit anyway. Besides it’s my company’s money not mine. One more depreciating asset for the accountant to deal with. I’ve no idea whether it’s a nice new toy or not, because I haven’t even had time to take it out of the box yet, and I also don’t care. It’s just a tool for doing my job, which I currently see absolutely no point to anyway.

With work pressure rising, and my anxiety along with it, I managed to get a surprising amount of work done while waiting, using my phone and iPad. I sat in Café Rouge, surrounded by far too many people and a world full of Christmas, which I wish could just bypass entirely. And then somewhere along the way, between one place or another there, I seem to have lost Matt’s house keys. Ok so they’re not identifiable and the house is safe but…they’re Matt’s. FFS!

I came straight back to work and tried to get as much done in what time was left as possible. And then came to the pub, where eldest is working, to open the very precious parcel that he’d picked up for me, containing my long awaited memorial jewellery. And even that couldn’t go right. The little skull ring I bought is really nice, up to and including the engraving on the inside.

However the important bit, the ashes memorial ring, is most definitely not. It’s been made the wrong size, with the wrong finish, no stars on the outside of the band, and it’s just not what I wanted, or ordered, and I’m totally and utterly gutted. I’ve been waiting weeks for them and it was really important to me, and now it’s just wrong. Their website says they’re really busy, not taking orders for Christmas, and of course they’re closed now, so what’s the chances of them getting that fixed by Christmas? I’m irrationally and ridiculously upset.

So I’m sat in the pub, tears streaming down my cheeks, while they insist on playing 80’s love songs and rock ballads in the background, that tug at every heartstring going, wondering what the fuck has happened to my life, and if I’ll ever feel able to cope with it again, or if I’ll ever feel happy again. It sure as f*ck doesn’t feel like it from here. I know I have stuff to do tomorrow, but it’s just stuff. I honestly can’t think of one good reason for getting out of bed just to let Tuesday inevitably kick me in the arse too. 😭💔

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