That Old Devil Moon
Saturday was re-organised so that the printer man could come and fix my printer.
I hadn't accounted for the Pisces Harvest Moon working her devilment and reeking havoc. I had planned to mow the lawn but decided I may not hear the repair man's arrival so I pulled up the weeds round the carrots then had the notion to ring the repair man to check his route.
He was on his way only one a half hours later than expected. Goodbye yoga...
He didn't listen to my instructions and went the wrong way at the give way sign, turned round, out of the road, down the hill, round by the station, then when I called him he said that was what I had told him to do. I had a bad feeling.
When he finally turned up he had inappropriately brought his sweet daughter with him. I led the way to my room. But I could feel that Pisces moon crowbarring the lid off my repressed anger.
The printer was sitting on it's table, my mother's old trolley that doubles as a card table. The Canon printer all forlorn and lonely. Unusable and scared.
He pressed some buttons.
He shook his head.
Then he told me there was nothing he could do, suggested that PC World would not give a refund, implied that I had lied to him over some inks I sold him, then told me he was ill and had done me a favour coming out to see me and that I hadn't even said thank you.
You could have heard my jaw drop on the carpet, that I hadn't noticed was covered in Solly's biscuits. I tried to speak but he talked the talk of a man fluent in bull....
Never kid a kidder, he had made the fatal mistake of taking on a bint from Aldgate. You can take the girl out of the East End but you can't take the East End out of the girl.
He didn't know what had hit him. He went ashen. For one whole week I had patiently listened to his wife's apologies. In one sentence he undid all her good work.
I am ashamed to say that I lost it. Totally lost it, with the help of that Old Devil Moon, my roar was the roooooaaaar of a wounded lioness.
I shouted so loudly my neighbour heard me through the window and thought I was over excited because the printer had finally been fixed.
In the end the repair man took out his wallet, to shut me up, gave me back my money and left with his daughter. I owe him a fiver.....
I should not have lost my temper but whatever button he pressed in me released a volcanic eruption I haven't had since 2009.
I didn't know that I could have kept the printer and bought a disk to upgrade my Mac, anger rendered my blind and useless. And the idiot repair man didn't even think to tell me that all I had to do was upgrade my computer with a fifteen quid disc. Grrrrrr.
So now I still don't have a printer, I have a guilty conscience and the image of a little girl witnessing her father being shreaded.
I stood in the shower and let the water wash away as much discombobulation as was humanly possible, but my shame stuck to me like stray hairs on the tiles.
I then drove to the osteopath. My body having gone into shock.
Although to be fair I have been 'shaking' for ten minutes everyday. A great new way to redistribute energy and everything else. My shaking, however, had got far to vigorous. When I find something new I'm afraid I do not have a 'dimmer switch', to quote the osteopath, so its all or nothing with me.
'Wear grey dungarees' said the lovely osteopath, I had on my dalmation print dungys.
'You're far too black and white.'
Tell me about it..
Indeed, so vigorous has my shaking been that I have put out 9/10 joint, the lovely manipulator of limbs told me what I had done in detail but I can't remember a word of it. When she reads this she'll laugh since she told me three different versions of what I had done to myself, three perfectly articulate versions of how I had damaged my poor body but it just went over my head. Suffice to say my ribs and right side hurt and the lawn still needs mowing.
I made confit of duck, potatoes sautÚd in goose fat, runner beans from the garden and a handful of chanterelle mushrooms tossed in butter.
The 'oosbind arrived home in time to eat it before it was too late. He's now in bed sleeping the sleep of the righteous, whilst I'm up here in my printerless room paying the price.
I just hope the repair man gets a good nights rest although somehow I think he'll have the voice of the dungaree clad mad woman ringing in his ears.
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Get yourself some decent manners.
OH BLIMEY, not that word again - Discombobulated. Teeth on edge, nails down a blackboard! It's a brass knobby word. Or should i say - all brass and no knob.
I always suspected that you have a temper that could stop a clock. Devil Moon maybe, but cocktail that with a fiery aries and BOOM...
Same here. It's not often my lid blows, but when it goes. Holy Mother take cover!
At least you know you have blood in your veins and a little fire in your belly - that's more than some.
By the way, moon isn't full 'til tuesday - tomorrow. Maybe we could make it a 'Lockdown Tuesday' and stay home - just incase!
Nothing is as emotive asa technology failure. It can make the most technologically savvy burst into uncontrollable rage (me).
I'm miles away but can fix it if you like over email/skype.
"Getyourselfsomemanners" - sod off.