...he's in the house. Eating whatever he wants, sleeping wherever he wants. Taking over my fucking life, as if it were his alone. It is, I guess. Ain't mine anymore. Or if it is, I don't want it.
T-doc yesterday, who is being really sweet by fitting me and a couple of her other losers in around getting married and having people to stay and going on honeymoon etc. Appreciate her doing it, but almost wish she wasn't. I don't want to spoil things for her by howling on her shoulder. So instead I just keep things superficial - which means her making the time for me is even more of a waste. And then a few hours of hanging around that side of town before having dinner with a friend who used to live on the same farm way back when - was one of those invitations that can't be turned down, not without end-of-friendship results. She didn't even know that ex-B/F was dead. Almost 3 years now. I'd thought it was just going to be us and her daughter, but turned out to be a whole girly dinner-party. With a huge chunk of the dinner conversation revolving around the church that all except me go to, and the politics involved. So I spent a lot of time outside smoking and wishing I could just go home.
Today's highlight was being reminded that the advantage of not having a life is that when p-doc's receptionist phones and asks if I can make it for an appt in 4 hours, the answer can be yes - otherwise wouldn't have seen him this week. He got onto work somehow, and the meeting that should have happened months ago but that is now scheduled for next week. At which my company will try to proclaim innocence about screwing up my main client, and costing them at least a million in licence fees. I'm expected to go, stand up and present the position and plans for my products without mentioning that I've been telling management for at least three months that they need to be pulling finger. So once p-doc had finished pissing himself laughing about me doing presentations (he still doesn't believe that when it comes to faking it I am so fucking verbose), he asked what I was going to say to the client. I figure it depends on what client asks, but I'm not lying to him. Not just to cover the site management's asses. P-doc asks about likely consequences. Number 1 is that I get fired, which he seems to think I should care about. I don't.
Would give me one less obligation to keep hanging on for.....
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