Feb 7th

 Work was a horror show yesterday. From bad to worse. Corners cut, things not being done right, missed, bad shit going live.

It's a laundry list of fuckups from major to minor.

I find myself debating just jacking it all in again. Absolutely dumbfuckery. And it doesn't do my health any good. But. Meh. Stay working. Earning the wage. If nothing else it pads the financial burden of paying for private healthcare. Then again. As I've thought before, I am just probably garnering money to eventually give away to someone else when I die.

Andy however is being pretty good all round. Mostly because he has stepped back from getting involved in the mud and is letting the employees get on with it. Which is what I'm supposed to be doing too - he told me straight he did not want me stressing out and having to wade into fix things. This is a period of shifting everyday blood and guts away from myself in the first instance ( because if nothing else it's not sustainable for the business ) and it also seems Andy has taken the cue to also do that himself. Which is probably all round wise, assuming the business can sustain the cost. Which it seems it can at the moment.

Hence a more chilled Andy. Which means he's a good deal more pragmatic and less anxious about things. And by default, he's a good guy. Just don't ask about money. Or dealing with difficult situations.

About midway through the day yesterday my energy tanked, and I sat there zombified, snowed under by an always expanding list of shit from employees who just can't seem to nail the final product.

As the afternoon wore on I forced myself to plod on and regained a second wind, but at a cost. The evenng was a wipe out.

Today before I even start I am in need of another day of sleep. But stuff to do. And get done.

Hazel pottered around a little yesterday. Picked up some laundry. Brought me a couple of cups of tea - a rare, but increasing event. She is in her own way trying to do a few things. Hard for her. Not in her nature at all. The washing up however simply migrates around the kitchen in piles until I can tackle it. It takes a single day for piles to start appearing. It's both funny and frustrating. Why is there a pile of your used dishes now on the side ? She does this at her place. Avoids washing up like it's a death sentence. And just ends up making cairns of crockery. She does a similar thing with rubbish of any kind. It's a bizarre mental quirk. And something you need to stay on top of and eliminate otherwise inside half a week you get snowed under by shit. She had the gall last week to suggest that she "didn't use much" and that "everytime she went to do the washing up it was already done". I laughed out loud. And she immediately grinned realising she had bullshitted one step too far. She avoids doing things. And one of her classic deflections is "oh well I was going to do that" when she was not in fact ever about to do that. And if you leave it waiting for her "to do that" it never gets done, and also for a bonus prize, ends up triggering her borderline and making the trauma monster rage out. But the line about going to do that sounds good. Plausible deniability. It is again, one of her mental quirks. The shape of her landscape. Which isn't great. But it has to be kept in mind that she has a lot of baggage and damage going on. Your choices are either short sharp, get the fuck out of here. Or. Patience. Short, sharp, get the fuck out of here is what, inevitably, she gets from everyone. And it does not work.

But it's one of those age old questions. About sticks and carrots. I've always treated her with patience and carrots. It does cross my mind whether she does also need a stick. Even though everyone eventually beats her with a stick - because she's pretty difficult to deal with. It also crossed my mind that that's not a fight I want to take. And is straying into the whole "above my paygrade" malarkey. I cannot offer her a comprehensive long term therapy plan and rehabilitation. It would be someone - and very probably several someones - full time work to do that.

This is something of a revelation that can maybe be hard to grasp. People can eventually require more care than a single person can give them. My mom would be a good example of that. No single person - even a qualified full time carer - could care for my mom in the end. She needed a team of people. If for nothing else to cover shifts of time. But also expertise.

That lesson can be a hard one to understand. Where perhaps something starts as being very possible for one person to look after. And eventually it becomes something that one person cannot handle on their own. When and where that line gets crossed is fuzzy and difficult to assess. And for the person in the middle of the storm, very hard to be aware of, and also not to take as a personal failure.

Anyway.

I am grateful when she can help out with Athena. Or make a cup of tea. My expectations are zero.

Today I need to get work done. Tackle the piled washing up. And take the dogs out - they've not been out for a while. It's a tall order for an exhausted me. But all of it needs doing.

I think I need some major time off work. Off life. I don't know. Let me sleep a hundred days. And then just fade to nothing. 

Always tired. Perhaps that should be the title of my autobiography.