Goodbye Bloater, Hello Boater.

chevalier

How is it all going Mr B?

MrBloater

Yikes. The perils of taking your foot off the gas - I've slowly been losing my vigilence, the trips to the spreadsheet have been of a much lower frequency and the trips to the local convenience store for festive treats for the kids and us have increased. Hence the scores on the doors are not what they should be - nothing earth-shattering - still fitting into clothes that I thought would be a distant memory and had the very surreal experience yesterday of sorting a wardrobe and putting all the stuff too BIG for me to wear in the place where all the stuff too small used to go. And the bills are covered but there's not much slack but then I guess if you have slack at this time of the year then maybe you're not in the Christmas spirit - like our neighbours over the road who decided to take down their lights and tree yesterday afternoon. Now I'm all for efficency - if I had my way the tree would be back in the loft and the poinsetta in the recycle bin by the time we sat down for Boxing Day lunch but the 7th?

So I guess I'd better try and do regular updates on here to keep myself on track - getting paid a week early will make January very long, plus with some happy family news confirmed on the other side of the world, we are now committed to finding another 5k out of nowhere to make the longhaul trip again next summer.

Work is a source of discontent and unsettlement at the moment, but on the other hand, the knees are spectacular.

Over and out.

gallygirl

MrBloater wrote: »

Work is a source of discontent and unsettlement at the moment, but on the other hand, the knees are spectacular.

Sorry work not so great - but with spectacular knees you can conquer the world :T.

mothernerd

Glad to hear your update but sorry you are having problems. I have had a quick catch up as I moved house and then had laptop problems and lost internet access for a while. I moved house 8 days before having a total hip replacement operation and am currently recuperating.

Similar situation to yours albeit on a smaller scale - weight loss was very good from 2012, slowed last October so started exercise class and mad decorating spree following installation of damp proof course, had problems from beginning of year but was not diagnosed (severe arthritis) until the beginning of August and got referred for a surgical consult.

Everyone (especially my mother who constantly tells me everything is old age and I have to get used to it) told me I was too young to be given a new hip but surgeon said it was one of the worst he had seen and op was only option. Was initially told the waiting list was 2- 3 months but when I went in for the education day they had me penciled in for a couple of weeks - cue panic as I didn't know which house I would be in.

Weight was piled on in the last few weeks pre-op as woman who saw me in August basically said I shouldn't be walking on it when up till then I had been following general advice and trying to keep walking as much as possible. However currently back on right track and weight is going down - not weighed myself but am back in the smallest clothes in my wardrobe and should do well in the coming year once I am fully mobile (mid-Feb). At the moment I mostly walk around the house and up and down the yard - furthest was a walk to the post box (2 blocks) and on crutches so can't carry much.

Moneywise have gone backwards. Original plan was to have the house up for sale (4 bed and only me and the youngest left and he has just finished university) by the end of March this year but as I became less able my work rate slowed (never stopped, even when I could only manage 5 minutes up a ladder and it took longer than 5 minutes to get up the ladder) so it only went up in November.

Estate Agent probably the wrong choice (panic caused by it being 2 days before the move and 10 before the op and aware that I was running out of time) but leaving things atm (refused their suggestion to ask for offers £20k below the already reasonable asking price).

Likewise due to my mobility problems I have been able to produce work this year but not to get out and sell at craft fairs or even to visit prospective customers, so earnings have been negligible. Middle son was renting the little house (one I have moved back into) but due to recurrent health problems he has missed paying rent (and I had to pay other bills and buy him food) at least four periods during the year. He finally got a f-t permanent job and has moved out (paying me back very slowly)

If I had been diagnosed sooner I would have qualified for disability benefits (has to be over a year) but only eligible from the date of diagnosis in August and I should now be quite well by mid Feb although my youngest has to tie my shoelaces so I can get downstairs for hot food and keep my water bottles topped up (can only carry little things or a few things in a bag) atm. So only £52 a week trickling in for now.

Did a huge shop before I went in hospital and paid my Christmas money into the bank to cover bills - was expecting to run out of money mid-Jan but now looking like I might get through to Feb. Odd little bits to come back in yet and bills here are lower and shouldn't pay anything for gas and electric (not sure about water) at old house and they have over-estimated both (boiler was broken here and I delayed replacing it as my mother had to go in hospital and son had moved out) so will keep on plodding (excellent advice as always from the lovely beanielou).

So in mid-Feb I may be joining you - I can't run for toffee but I walk very fast. The house sale should sort out my financial problems - just have to re-start negotiations with my mum on a property that suits both of us. Not having the conversation atm as she keeps re-visiting old arguments. In November she was fantasizing about buying her partner's property (where she is currently living) - luckily one of her partner's sons got in first - there is no easy or cheap way of improving the property and neither of them could cope with the building site conditions that would be needed. She now has another unsuitable property in view - again we had this discussion months ago. Her current location is too far from the hospital in an emergency, too far from the doctor's for regular appointments and too far from the shops (partner's grand-daughter currently takes her/ goes for her). However if I moved up there it would be unreasonable to ask the poor girl to do any more and I would either have to walk or pay £5.20 (2 buses, 2 different operators) for the doctors or shopping.

Anyway, so good to hear from you Boater and may the weight loss continue and your debt reduction recommence.

MrBloater

Desperately trying to stay on the righteous road but could well do with drowning my sorrows. I hate my job - there, I've said it now. I hate the fact I am line managed by someone who is literally young enough to be my son. I hate the fact when I have to spend time in the office (thankfully not very often) I am surrounded by people I would much rather not be around - joyless, nitpicky, opinionated and utterly loathsome. And I am sure I come across the same to them. It is not easy falling down the career ladder and I need to get out of this place as soon as humanly possible and start again somewhere else. Somewhere new. I am in a really hateful mood at the moment and I'm not sure how to get out of it. Aside from getting out of it. And I can't afford any more wine this week. Humbug.

in_need_of_direction

You didn't fall down the career ladder. You made a deliberate decision to do what you do at the level you do it. Just have a read of your old diary and try to recapture the thinking that informed the decision.

Brogden

MrBloater wrote: »

Desperately trying to stay on the righteous road but could well do with drowning my sorrows. I hate my job - there, I've said it now. I hate the fact I am line managed by someone who is literally young enough to be my son. I hate the fact when I have to spend time in the office (thankfully not very often) I am surrounded by people I would much rather not be around - joyless, nitpicky, opinionated and utterly loathsome. And I am sure I come across the same to them. It is not easy falling down the career ladder and I need to get out of this place as soon as humanly possible and start again somewhere else. Somewhere new. I am in a really hateful mood at the moment and I'm not sure how to get out of it. Aside from getting out of it. And I can't afford any more wine this week. Humbug.

I wasn't going to post tonight but I have now

Sounds like me !!!!!!

onward and upward :T !!!!

Brogden

beanielou

Keep plodding.

MrBloater

There's been one thing looming over me like a giant leaking presence these last few days and that's the toilet. On the plus side it's taken my thoughts away from the fact I emailed my CV to the boss of a place that would be my dream job on Thursday and have heard nothing (if I had had the time to worry it would have likely been about my enthusiasm in the email could well have come across as somebody completely off their trolley after a Christmas party whereas I was actually sagely and soberly sat at home), but on the negative side the toilet saga unleashed a whole wave of existential grief that has been far from festive.

It hadn't been flushing well for a week and based on my prior successes in fixing it I was certain it was a diaphragm that needed changing - and luckily I'd had the foresight the last time it happened to buy two of them. Unluckily I'd had the blindsight to put it in the shed which was now jampacked with empty christmas tubs, random packaging and stuff that had to get the hell out once the decorations went up. Not a major problem though as I had an early finish on Friday and a couple of hours to spare before I had to pick up the kids - ideal time to get to the plumbers merchants, switch the water off and get down and dirty with the cistern. It didn't work out like that - one of the bolts had rusted solid and despite a whole tin of WD-40, some random hammering and the culmination of three month's frustration at work being unleashed in my efforts to unscrew the damn thing - it was going nowhere. Checking my watch I saw I had 10 minutes before it was time for the kids to get out - not a problem as its only a 5 minute drive away, more of a problem when I realised that I'd parked the car outside the school earlier (so as to secure a decent parking spot) and now had to do the 15 minute walk in 10. So I left immediately, clad in a t-shirt, jeans and a pair of crocs. I didn't even have the time to wash my hands, and you can imagine what I smelt like after 90 minutes of struggling to unbolt a cistern which had entailed crawling around on the bathroom floor. And I was sweating up a treat by the time I got there. Thankfully I'm fairly anti-social so most fellow parents give me a wide berth at the best of times let alone now but I did have to dodge a couple of Christmas hugs and handshakes by muttering "broken toilet, no water" instead of the traditional wishes for a nice holiday.

Had to then unpack the shed (and supervising pee breaks on the patio) to find a saw and then got medieval with the bolt which gave up its resistance - replaced diaphragm - changed the handle as well and then bolted the cistern back on with the one remaining bolt. It all looked a bit wonky but I figured the weight of the cistern with the water in would level things out - it didn't. And when I put the mains water back on, the handle worked a treat, but it still didn't flush and there was a significant drip from the bottom of the cistern. But, as it was Christmas and I was determined to do things differently I simply put a bucket and some towels down on the floor, tidied up the bathroom and decided the battle could wait until Saturday rather than ruin the first night of the holiday. It was an odd eerie calm - DIY is my real weakpoint - I have this belief seared into my brain that real men can fix things - irrespective of if they are trained in it or not. And the minute I cannot do something I just rinse myself inside out with self-loathing, pity, contempt and doubt.

I'm pretty sure it all stems back to a kettle. For about ten years during my childhood we had a kettle with a broken switch. Now due to my subsequent engineering knowledge I now realise it was likely the spring had gone inside the mechanism but all I know is that we had to jam a match into the side of the switch for it to stay on. It wasn't a particularly expensive kettle, but I recall the frustration of my Mum who one day flung said kettle at my father and asked him if he could take it to work as maybe there was a "real man" there who could fix it. He didn't, and it never was fixed, and allied to that memory was the situation of living in a kitchen with no units - they all got pulled off the wall in anticipation of new ones coming, but the new ones never came - and I have this massive fear about living in chaos and things never being fixed. But through deep breathing and drawing on my common sense I was able to convince myself Friday night that I wasn't a terrible father or rubbish husband, and that come Saturday it would all be alright.

Saturday morning I planned to trundle over to the plumbers merchants again - feeling very proud of myself that I could ask for the closed coupled fixing kit and a new universal mechanism - this isn't any of your soft B&Q stuff - this is proper plumbing and it don't come with any fancy packaging or instructions or anything. But before the kids and Mrs B left for the supermarket (so I could turn the water off and swear in peace) she unguardedly asked me if I had the number of a plumber in case it didn't go well. Now I know she is not out to get me, she is not in the business of psychologically wounding me for a laugh. I know that, but I still crumbled - the thought of sending in a professional for a job that I should be able to do just filled me with shame. I imagined my kids in years to come telling their long-suffering spouses the story of the day Daddy couldn't mend the toilet and how it proved he wasn't a real man, etc etc. And so I sullenly skulked over to the plumbing shop, got my bits and replaced it all. Except a washer looked wrong. Very wrong. And it meant the cistern wasn't quite level with the pan (for a closed couple unit this is a big deal), but I did what I could, got it all put back together again and the flusher worked - a mighty deep flush that was, well, basically real man-sized. I took the sodden towels away and cleaned everything up and I felt good. I called Mrs B and told her it was safe to come home and everything was fixed. And then the drip started. And whilst it was only a little drip it echoed out around the empty house. And the kids and Mrs B came home all happy with their Christmas shop and proud of me and I had to admit to the drip. And Mrs B was very stoical and supportive. But I could tell she was disappointed. And then the post came - a serious looking letter from HMRC stating an overpayment of £650 had been made. I skimmed through it, told Mrs B the bad news but to be fair it didn't really register - as the drip was still paramount in my mind. A real man wouldn't have left that toilet with a drip. We had to go to friends that afternoon and despite being plied with fantastic food drink and company I couldn't get the drip out of my mind. When I got home I re-read the plumbing forum I had visited the other day and found a mention of a sponge washer - as the original washer I had removed had been somewhat sponge like I hoped that maybe that would solve my problems. The drip didn't get any worse on Sunday and even though I knew I could have gone to Plumb Center or suchlike - as we had guests round on the day I knew I had to wait til Monday for my third visit in four days to the plumbers merchants.

This morning there was no bravado as I walked in there again, I produced the old washer from my pocket and asked if they had anything similar. I asked the bloke behind the counter if I could have done anything else and he concurred that I had done pretty much everything I could have - if the sponge washer didn't work I would have to get the professionals in. And so for the third time in four days I switched the water off at the meter in the street (our internal stopcock is buried in the understairs cupboard and that's a whole other can of worms), drained and unscrewed the cistern and replaced a couple of washers and put the whole thing back together again with some shiny new screws (just for luck) and turned the water back on. And stared at the unit for a good ten minutes after the cistern had refilled - just to see if there were any drips. But the acid test was going to be the flush. Push the handle down and if it unleashed a torrent, a trickle or even a drop of water onto the bathroom floor and it was Game Over - a sucker punch to my self-esteem that I would have taken ages to recover from. But, to my utter shock there was nothing. I sat in stunned silence for a while and then it finally sunk in. I had fixed the toilet. It had cost me about £25 in parts and in total about 3 hours of labour (and a few sleepless nights worrying about it) but it gave me the confidence boost that you couldn't put a price on.

And it with no creative licence whatsoever that I say that quite literally the next thing that happened this lunchtime after the realisation of the toilet success sunk in was that another spooky brown envelope from HMRC appeared. But I was feeling strong enough to deal with it - Christmas was already paid for and so we can over a few months absorb the repayment of the £650. But it was a letter with a bloody cheque attached. I'd misread the previous letter on Saturday and thought they were chasing me for the money - turns out they were informing me that according to their calculations I had overpaid this. Having checked on my spreadsheet of everything I'm not sure I agree with them but this is one case where I am happy to leave it to the professionals.

gallygirl

Oh, great story with a twist :money:. Merry Christmas Mr B :snow_grin:snow_grin:snow_grin