What a day

I feel the need to rant. Work has wound me up so much that right now I'm struggling to breathe in a normal fashion. The only upside to this is that I can't wait to go to my spin class tonight and ride out all the aggro.

It just winds me up how we are micro-managed in every aspect of pretty much everything at work, filling reports on this, that and the other to the nth degree, and usually on a deadline of 10 minutes ago. But it's all so poorly thought out that all that data we work so hard to provide is completely meaningless. Considering I work for the 2nd biggest company in the world, you'd think they'd be a bit better at organising things that this.

I shall not dwell on this - repeat to self - it's only work. It's only work. It's only work. It's only work ...

Rant over - it's safe to come out from behind the table now.

I managed to lock myself out of the flat last night, because I am in fact a genius. I went out for another run as soon as I got home last night (goooooooooo me!!), which means taking my house key of the ring and stashing it under the door mat so I can let myself back in later (no pockets in running clothes - good job you don't know where I live, huh?). Normally, I'd replace it straight back on the key ring when I get home, but knowing I still had a shit-load of work to do last night that I'd bought home from the office, I pretty much threw myself in the shower when I got back and then cracked on with it. I then went for dinner round at the boys next door (the angels cooked for me, because I was being stroppy and and busy and generally anti-social and they hadn't seen me all weekend), but I completely forgot that the flat key hadn't been replaced when I grabbed my keys to go round. Blinking idiot. With my flatmate staying down with her boyfriend last night, the whole scenario could have got quite messy, but luckily next door keep spare keys for us, for just this scenario, although it's usually my flatmate that requires them.

Other than the short break for dinner though, I was work, work, working all yesterday evening, which really does suck. Having got the major work stress out of the way, it looks like this evening is going to be a wee bit more relaxed for which I'm grateful.

One thing I must do is call my dad. Since we lost my mum a couple of years ago, we've been drifting slowly apart - I can feel it and I hate it. I don't love him any less that I did before, but I find it hard to talk to him. Mostly I think this is because I can see how devastated he still is by her illness and death. She's really left such a hole in his life.

Before she was ill, they were everything to each other - quite an insular couple, not really needing that many friends outside of their happy little family unit. In any case, mum was always the social driving force of the relationship, dad more than happy to coast along in her wake. Then later when she got ill, he cared for her at home without any outside help. So even though she slowly disappeared in terms of personality (she had early onset Alzheimers), the physical and mental burden of caring for her took over his life. And now she's gone, and I'm not sure he knows what to do with himself.

I find it so hard to watch him like this. My way of coping with grief is to bury myself in everyday life, make myself busy, and deal with it a tiny bit at a time. I think I'm far more like my mum in that respect - high sociable and very rarely letting my emotional guard down. But dad just seems lost. Never pushy enough to go and find himself new friends, he spends much of his time alone aside from interaction with others who are pushy enough in themselves to make themselves his friends. But they are few and far between.

I also worry, because since I flew the nest a second time, he seems to take on little "projects" - people who he can help, and who are usually wildly unsuitable for company. First there was the 40-something divorcee who was always in need of a male to do stuff for her, perennially short of money, and mother to a frankly weak and mentally unstable daughter (hello - she tries to commit suicide because she's bullied for being too pretty - grow a pair of balls for gods sake girl!). After her, there was the ex-jockey who'd broken his arm, therefore unable to work or race, and unable to find other work. I met this one on one occasion in the street - a bit odd and the kind of guy I'd probably cross the street to avoid, but no dad gives them money he can little afford and gets invested in their complicated lives. I realise that I sound cruel in my analysis of these people but I'm scared my dad will get hurt.

And so between one thing and the other, I find it quite disheartening spending time speaking to Dad these days. I wish he could find strong people who could cheer him up and bring him out of his shell, but he's not confident enough around those people, fearing that they are too busy for him and he's boring them. Which I think is the same reason he never rings me.

What an ungodly mess.