It's 8:53am and I'm at work. I should be getting into a file but my brain's been squirming on the way in, so I'll write and hopefully settle it.
Awkward conversation with Mrs T yesterday afternoon about money and my failure to manage our financies better. She sensed I was shutting down and tried to probe me on what was wrong. In the end I said I had this big feeling of having let everyone down. She asked if she'd told me such a thing, or otherwise gotten stuck into me about it. All I could do is say that it isn't about anything she's said or done.
Whenever I think about money or the management thereof, I can hear my mother's voice in a combination of loving and censorious tones saying "Monny a mickle macks a muckle" or the couplets she never tires of "Mr MacDougall / who was always frugal" and "Mr McTavish / who was never lavish". And I've had those thoughts running through my head through all the nice things Mrs T and I have ever done or bought or whatever. I always knew it would all come to this, and now it has and there's no way of thinking about it that doesn't make me feel like scum that's now being justly punished.
I'm really over this. I just want this day to be over, over, over. It should be a good barometer for my state of mind that I've set the machine to tape the Indianapolis-New Orleans game today, and I genuinely can't even get myself to look forward to it.
OK Stephen, pull yourself together. The sonner you get the day underway, the sooner it's over.
No comments:
Post a Comment