I am happy and sad - happy for Dr Wheel that he gets such an awesome opportunity, sad that it's so far away.
Ah fuck, I can't talk about this.
Last week I went and bought a skirt. I noticed 2 things - first, this year's clothing selection seems to actually contain some that I like for the first time in about 5 years - both in colour and in style. I am surprised and pleased by this, and might actually buy some clothes this year.
The other thing I noticed is that sizes seem to be shrinking. Not in that 'oh gosh my waistline is expanding' kind of way, but in that 'are we ego-sizing' kind of way. When I was in the US I noticed their clothes sizes are quite different from ours - what would be a 12 here was about a 6 there. Now, I don't change shape all that much and I'm aware that there's a variation in clothes sizes here too, but normally if I grab a 10 and a 12 on the way into the dressing room, one of them will likely fit.
This time, what fit was an 8, in several cases.
I repeat, I have not changed shape. The size of the clothes has changed. I don't really care about this except in the lack of consistency always keeping me guessing as to what size I actually am.
OK, the weekend. Apart from the obvious, I spent some time going through the boxes behind the couch and managed to reduce the quantity to about half what was there before. If there's gonna be emotion I might as well make the most of it, right? I found the diary Dad kept when shipping live whales to Canada, I found the title deeds to the various houses my folks owned over here, I found a love letter that Dad wrote to Mum just before they got married, entirely in rhyme, I found my grandparents' marriage and death certificates. I want to make a book to put this stuff in, like a family history sort of thing. Because I need more projects, right?
Also, I'm thinking the Cypriot consulate might be interested in some of Dad's slides from living in Cyprus 1958-1962 - that's 50 years ago now so kind of historic. And the Shaw Savill people might be interested in all the menus from the (40 years ago) olden-days sailings of the Southern Cross. And the Dargaville Little Theatre might be interested in all the cuttings and photos of various shows. etc. So.Much.Stuff. I feel a bit like I'm being buried under the weight of all this history and digging myself out from under it keeps requiring me to make hard decisions about stuff.
tieke, do you think your Mum would be interested in four old-ish photographs of some pretty old-looking spinning wheels?
And right now, all I want to do is sell the bloody house so I can be debt free and go live in Hong Kong.
In more transference, I got a letter back from IRD which I considered less than useless, so here's a copy of my reply:
Thanks for your reply to my letter enquiring what IRD is doing to retrieve the 2-year-old, $6000 debt owed to me by ***. I was informed that someone had phoned him and that now he'll be sent a letter.
This is not good enough. Two years is a very old debt. $6000 is a large amount of money and every month that goes by it gets larger.
I am getting very angry with the lackadaisical and apathetic approach to this by IRD. Letters and phone calls will be ignored by a person who is capable of depriving his son of a fair contribution to his upkeep. They barely even count as action. I know IRD has the power to access people's bank accounts and I want to know how old the debt has to be and how much the total has to reach before someone will do something more than just make phone calls and send letters.
And when my son reaches 18 in 2 1/2 years, if *** still owes all this money, what then? Does it get written off? Will he still have to pay? Will I ever see the "It's our job to be fair" IRD take some fair action on my and my son's behalf?
Here's what I consider fair: I supposedly owe IRD $900. Consider this my official notification that I will not be paying that debt. I expect any payment of that debt to come from money retrieved from *** towards the debt he owes me. And I expect IRD to do the work to retrieve that money the way it is supposed to.
Two years. $6000. It's worth more than a letter or a phone call.
Yeah, running out of tact.
It might be a wee while before normal programming resumes.
The rest of this year had damn well better be good, you hear?