I am typing this while BT have me on hold to their complaints department. I am getting angrier and angrier. I want to gather a band of men and storm their castle. I want to deface BT. If I have to have no broadband for a while, so be it. BT are going to be really sorry.
Sorry. Here is the post I planned to type.
A while ago I decided to stop working at the library all the time. For one day in the week I would stay at home and work on my novel instead.
So far, here are the sorts of things I have done on my special, expensive writing days.
1. piss about
2. buy things
3. rearrange cacti in order of tallness
4. rearrange cacti in order of fatness
5. play with facebook
6. check to see if the off licence is open
7. feed cat
I am still on hold to BT. They are playing me Peer Gynt. I want to do hari kiri.
8. make soup
9. listen to the building work being done next door
10. take erotic photographs of my desk, pencil holder and bookcase
11. go to the off licence
The situation is getting dire. I am becoming an embarrassment. I am a poor performer. A low achiever. The word count graph and submissions spreadsheets are badly indexed catalogues of shame.
(I wasn’t on hold for a bit just then. I was talking to some real people. They transferred me a few times. They are annoyed with me because I have two different account numbers. I don’t want to pay twice though. BT are incompetent. I let them know that. I haven’t sworn yet.)
I have decided the problem with writing performance is that I don’t have a boss. I need a boss. I need supervision and a weekly review. So. I will be my own boss. I will do a performance appraisal every Wednesday. If my performance is substandard I will administer sanctions.
This picture of me is of the only time when I was ever properly happy. Notice I am wearing my nice brown writing cardigan, and I am also in the presence of big cacti. The picture at the top is of lots of LITHOPS or Living Stones. They aren’t cacti but they are just as good. I have lots of them. The make me as happy as I am in this picture. I take care of them. Some of them are called Paul and Greg.
(I’ve just sworn at a BT man. He was called Jamie. Jamie, it is not personal. Please do something more respectable for a living. You sound like a nice guy. BT are not nice. Come and live with me for free until we can storm the BT castle and find you a different, better job. I am sorry Jamie.)
If I fail to perform with word count and novel I am going to throw away my LITHOPS. One by one I will destroy them. I will chuck them in the bin, but stamp on them first so I can’t get them out again afterwards. I will probably cry.
I know it seems harsh, but my idleness is getting beyond a joke. Seriously.
I am no longer on hold to BT. I have cancelled my account with them. They said I have to pay lots of money to do that, and that I won’t have any more tinterwebs after the 3rd of November. I am going to refuse to pay the extra money. They might send me to jail. LITHOPS won’t be a problem then, I suppose.
Free the Preston One!