CK

Just another day… (no singing please. The cheesy-related track of the early 90s was not meant to spring into my mind as I typed that and now it’s stuck in my head. Wonderful. Jon Sicada you have a LOT to answer for you numpty. I hope it provokes angst-y mutters from a few and becomes the latest “I know a song that‘ll get on your nerves, get on your nerves, get on your nerves…” for someone )
Was SO chuffed with myself today - still on a high from The Call from last night, apparently - until I realised that I’d forgotten to pack some essentials. Of course, it was only when I’d put my glasses down somewhere (?!?) and put one contact lens in that I found I had only packed ONE lens. Who does this? WHO packs ONE contact lens and not the other, out of a pair that have been worn and should be in the same case? Me, that’s who. I have a lovely bruise on my leg now, from trying to walk around with one eye closed to find where I’d left my glasses. I stopped to shout “Mr CK…” and then realised he wasn’t there to find my glasses for me. I wasn’t upset, just realised that, yet again, I have been hopelessly “girly” for too long and need to toughen up. My legs may be bruised but I found those sodding glasses…(and no, they weren’t where they should have been, and I don’t put them down in the same place each time. And yes, it would be a good idea, but if I put anything “somewhere safe” I can never find it again. Somewhere safe in our house is a euphamism for “CK’s lost it again…”
If anyone doesn’t get it yet, then be aware that I am possibly one of the most forgetful people in the world, and it doesn’t just stop there.
I have been known to leave the car keys in the house, go outside, realise I had nothing to start the car with, go back in the house, come away with something else, get back into the car and forget what it was I went in the house in the first place for. Ah yes, the car keys. To start the car. Which I still don’t have, because I forgot to pick them up when I went back in. back in the house - where are the car keys? This charade can go on for about 15 minutes, and I’m the type to drive off leaving my wallet / bag/ shoes back in the house and not realise it until I’m a good 10 miles away and trying to pay for my parking… I have indeed driven in my stockings (ha! Socks…)before thinking “Hang on…this feels a bit odd…there’s something wrong with the car!“
These are the times when I miss the OH - he, at least, can keep me organised and remembers all the little things that I normally forget. And he packs better than I do. Just not as neatly. J I have to work on this whilst he’s away and then scare the bejesus (or be Mohammed) out of him when he comes back by being Uber Wife. J If I don’t work on it, Mr CK knows that this blog may be being written and will recognise me by my writing - and will be able to locate me from the last entry written. (And you lot thought that there was Absolutely no point to this whole Blog thing: it’s self preservation!)

Speaking of which, he IS getting R&R and asked me when I want him to try and book his leave. I had to bite back the words “tomorrow!” and said “I’ll have a think about it and e-mail you as soon as I can get to the net”. Now I might be scatty but I’m not stupid, and I’ve come up with the best idea that I can think of.

He has to be in theatre (not surgery, that’s MORE army-speak: in the sandpit/on posting/tour etc.) for at least 2 months before he can have his R&R (rest and recreation) he can stay there for longer and then short-tour (meaning, he doesn’t get a break at all, but comes home earlier than his due date at the sacrifice of his R&R) but if he does want R&R, and comes back at the normal timing, he also has to be in “theatre” for at least the last 4 weeks (could be longer, don’t quote me on that one, our time ran out on the phone last night) of his tour. So basically, anytime between January 23rd and April 23rd.

My decision is that as much as I want to see him like I’d like to be given the key to fat-free chocolate or eternal pointy-uppy boobs without surgery, I think he should R&R in March. That means that the majority of the tour is over so when he goes back “out there”, he’ll have a short time to “push” before he comes home for good. I am being horribly practical, but to me it makes sense. I know it will to him, too, and as we have no life-changing events in that time, nor do we have a birthday, anniversary or anything more important happening to aim to try and get him home for, I’m counting myself lucky. He can’t come home for either of our birthdays (they fall in the month he’s due to leave) so the best way forward is to go for the “just over half-way” mark, me thinks. Strategy!
If any cynic amongst you is thinking “you, CK, just want to have more time to lose weight before he comes home” then I couldn’t possibly comment…
Short-tour isn’t an option. If he wanted to, and not come home for R&R, then I would understand - after all, it’s HIM doing the time, but I know he doesn’t want to as we discussed all the options prior to him leaving (handy hint, that, to know what could be coming up. Also saves the whole “surprise” element of it AND you won’t end up like someone I know whose boyfriend said he had his R&R cancelled, only for me to find out that the git had indeed been on his R&R...just not with her.) One of the main reasons for Mr CK’s reluctance to say “ok, I’ll stay and then leave earlier” is that he doesn’t trust the RAF to turn up to take him away, or for the Army to stick to their side of the bargain and let him leave early. In his case, this is totally understandable. He only got his job description when he got out there (telling him where he’d be based) had to book his own training courses AND his own flight. Other peoples’ circumstances may differ, but my best piece of advice if you’re about to be in the same boat, is to ask lots of questions. And if you have any doubts, search on RP for info/advice (handy search button). I’m lucky enough to know that my OH wouldn’t lie to a direct question nor would he about his job/tours etc. but I do know that there are some lovely people out there who try and use the whole “going on tour” thing as an excuse for varying lines of bullshit. If you’re a significant other and you have a doubt, then just ask. Doesn’t mean your significant other is lying, they just might not appreciate you don’t know what all the different options mean : if in doubt, ASK someone.
Weather Report
Cats and dogs…the ducks are happy as the aforementioned 4-legs are all inside as it’s peeing it down here - surprise! It’s Scotland! - and the pooches are blaming me, yet again, for dragging them up here from the relative warmth of the further south. Now why two well-coated, fat and furry animals should feel the cold so badly is beyond me. They won’t wear clothes - not that I would seriously put clothes on my furkids so they have to suffer peeing in the rain (queue for a film?)
Although, I put clothes on Boy Dog once…
Once.
(evil chuckle has subsided…)
Hospital visit went well today - got a big, toothy grin from the father-person after “doing” half the “Achmed the Terrorist” skit. I personally am taking credit for his giggles, but realistically, I know that the amount of drugs he’s on just now make the white painted walls hysterical. However, sod you all, I’m taking the credit - my Dad thinks I’m funny! Allah-be-praised, morphine has the answer! I should dish it out to a crowded room, talk bollocks for half an hour , then charge them all £25 entrance fee. I could be rich! Mmooooohahahhaha
Poor man - I feel awful for him and would love to take his place for a few days to give him a break, but when I offered this he told me quite succinctly to “bugger off, she’s on this weekend.“ Ah, the disturbance in the force r Fiona. Dr Fiona is about 6 years younger than me (so she’ll be 16 then ) and according to my pater, “… I do so love to watch her go”. Dr. Fiona is about the best thing that has happened to Room 8 but don’t ask him what colour her eyes are, he couldn’t tell you. Neither can any of his other male visitors; they’re all too busy checking out “that peach of a bottom”. What lovely conversation to engage your youngest, and only female, child in, eh? And you think I’m odd…at least it appears to be hereditary.
It is unfortunately enough to make me paranoid about my bum. I’ve never given my bum much thought - never done the “does my bum look big in this?“ bit as the honest answer of “yes, because your arse is enormous” would be painful. I mean, do YOU look at your bum in the mirror? I’ve yet to find one where I can see it properly, without twisting my neck into knots, and when I do find one of “those dressing room mirrors” am always quite alarmed to see how much it has spread! When did it spread so much? Is a fat arrse the curse of the non-working class? Answers on a blog-card…(it must be an age thing. Or stress. I like putting things down to “Oh I must be stressed/hormonal/female” to forget about them being an issue. Or forget full stop. (read the above…I had to, to remember what I’d said!)
Time for GAH! Of the day. There’s always room for a rant…
Stupid fecking bastard twatting internet companies. I wrote something on this and then realised it was a bit pointless. I’ll do a follow-up when I’ve done a full-on comparison tomorrow - Cheap loans | mortgages | credit cards | home & car insurance - moneysupermarket.com has NOTHING on me when I start talking a bargain…or slating some useless gob-cracking company which employs the yearly rejects from telesales teams to boost their “customer service” desks

As a fully trained, and I might add, fucking cracking Customer Service Manager (currently “resting”) I despair at CS helplines and end up giving them pointers on how they might want to be more interested in their customers. My first training point is “what is the most important part of a phone conversation with a customer” and anyone who doesn’t answer “listen to what the person is saying and take notes” gets extra homework or sacked before the training is over. Listen listen listen. Establishing a relationship, making them feel confident in you blah blah boring blah can only come if you listen to what the other person is saying. Today is a case in point; if one person had listened to me instead of saying “our broadband costs this, our installation costs that, our minimum contract is 18 months…” I might actually be typing this up online instead of onto my desktop to save for a rainy - ha! - day.

Have to balance the negative with the positive. Karma demands it be so.

Positive point of the day:

food poisoning helps you lose weight. I made the scales scream at my Fat Fighters Club tonight on my way back from the hospingtal (that’s a word: if you don’t believe me, ask Billy Connolly circa 1984) and I’ve lost 3.5lbs.
I still cause screams as I’m too heavy BUT considering I had pizza, over 12 pints of ale the weekend before last, LOTS of chocolate, about my own weight in Wispas (mmmm. God /Allah/Buddha bless Cadbury’s for seeing sense and bringing back my favourite choccy bar) and countless other “naughty” things, I am chuffed to bits at having managed to lose instead of gaining that of a whole person.

And I love Thursday night weigh-in night; I always come home after starving myself all day (can’t eat - might put on! Have to poop - might help me lose) and have wine, cheese, chocolate etc. before “getting back on it” for the Friday and rest of the weekend. Diet tip of the day: have a good visit to the loo before weigh-in, squeeeeze that extra half pound out J

Whilst OH is away, I swore to myself not to drink alone, and I’m pleased to say that I am proving a huge success. I have two dogs - so hence I am never aloneJ I suggest those of you with any concerns about your alcohol intake when on your tod (tod: read, Jack Jones) to take stock of your household situation. Anything living (plants, I’m afraid, do NOT count) means you are not alone. Fish breathe. If you have no other pets, children, talking Elmo’s or Furby’s, get a goldfish - voila! You’re never alone J No problem - now crack open the vino and I’ll join you.

©CK2008-2009
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