“Oh he’s going to be spending all his time playing games…”
Chance would be a bloody fine thing.
Between washing, tidying, ironing, breaking the iron, ironing again, cooking, going to Halifax and – today – scraping off wallpaper and stripping paint I’ve almost not played anything at all.
In fact, as I did all that and played in the interim, as well as watching TV and the hours spent with Carole in the evenings when she’s home from work… when the bloody hell did I have time to do an actual job??
I know that nature abhors a vacuum and all that jazz, but I really didn’t expect to see my time fill up so easily and more-or-less naturally so early into my relaxation phase. I knew there would be some things – little jobs left by Carole in a morning as she leaves for work with a smile, a kiss and a “if you get a chance today…” but a lot of this time sink has not been asked for.
I have so many games to play. So many. But, instead, I am finding myself in the corner cupboard in the kitchen sorting out tools and picking up stray panel pins. Somewhere along the line I have sliced through my finger but not noticed until I caught the flap of skin on something. And have had to replay my day back to try and work out when it happened. I still don’t know. I’m so preoccupied with things that I am physically harming myself and not even noticing.
I didn’t sign up for this. No one said redundancy was like this. It doesn’t say in any of the books that you may find yourself spontaneously doing stuff that you’d normally turn your nose up at. When Carole was made redundant she rocked back and forth like a Romanian orphan to such an extent I had to move a week off from work to make sure she had company. She didn’t start cutting her fingers and not even caring about it. She got a job at Boots over Christmas. So I suppose, in a way, she was self-harming as well.
I was expecting at least some rocking, albeit well disguised by me being square-eyed due to endless hours of Xbox Live.
Maybe it will kick in next week…