Small traumas.

I only ever seem to blog whenever I have something witty or pressing to divulge. I put this down to the idea that no-one cares about my somewhat mundane life. Having said that, last night as I lay drifting off to sleep, I suddenly had the epiphany that I should be blogging for myself regardless. I'm one of those people that is constantly thinking about something, pondering, wondering. Having an outlet does help in curbing it (I'll admit that much) so, even if it is just for my own mental sanity and love of sleep, you'll probably be hearing a lot more of the minutiae of my everyday tribulations.

Both myself and Adam have been off work this week. We never really get time off together due to his ridiculous shift patterns (the joys of care work) and work was starting to get on my last nerve so we booked the week off. Spur of the moment and all that.

We travelled to a little family-owned animal park in Yorkshire yesterday for a meerkat and owl experience that Adam discovered online. Everything about it was fantastic so I'll upload a post on that once I have the photos sorted. For now, I'll leave you with Adam avec a bored looking owl.

I encountered a small trauma this morning (depending on what you would deem a trauma to be). As you probably know by now, Google Reader has finally been discontinued leaving users with no other option than to seek out an alternative feed reader. Personally, I cannot think of any online service I use more than Google Reader. I check it every morning for new blog/news posts, I peruse it on breaks at work and finally sit down with it each evening whilst relaxing. Fundamentally, it is how I keep up to date with all you wonderful people.

To cut a long story short, I spent a good hour investigating the different services outlined in this post before finally settling with Feedly. It looks nice, has a good iPhone/iPad app (essential for me) and is probably the closest to how Google Reader functioned. It just meant I had to sift through all the blogs I follow and rename them again - I'm pedantic when it comes to the fact that each blog must have the author's name as a prefix.

I suppose I'll know in the next few days if I have any problems with it but I'll happily welcome any suggestions from you guys regarding which blog readers are worth a look. I doubt I'll have much else to do - I mean, it isn't like it hasn't stopped raining for the past month week...

S.

S is a relatively new team member. The far side of middle-aged; a friendly, maternal woman. Slightly overweight with greying hair, she lives alone with her two beloved cats. This lack of human interaction at home coupled with the need for social acceptance, she's the type you must set aside a good twenty minutes for should you be brave enough to ask the dreaded question 'How are you?'.

"How's it going S?"

"Oh the usual - I didn't sleep a wink last night"

"Oh dear, why's that?"

"Well you know I'm going on that solo cruise in a few weeks?"

How could that ever slip my mind...

"I was reading reviews online last night and they're full of horror stories. Older men stalking single women who are travelling alone"

"I really wouldn't worry - they always post the worst stories online and I'm sure they embellish most of them..."

"To be honest, I thought that, but then I came across this story of a single British woman who was persistently harassed by an American man who wanted her to go to dinner with him"

"To cut a long story short, she kept refusing and in the end, he tried to attack her in her cabin"

"That sounds like an urban legend if ever I've heard one"

"I hope you're right. I love my cruises but I could never bring myself to go on another one if someone tried to attack me whilst I slept"

"Like I said S, I really wouldn't worry - you'll be fine"

"Well it's like my Dad said last night: if someone wants to rape me in my cabin at my age, I should leave the door unlocked"

And with deadpan execution, amidst colleagues grinning at their computer screens, she shuffled away leaving me to contemplate the conversation we had just exchanged.

Toastgate.

The MD, Big J has an obvious distaste for temporary members of staff.

"You won't believe the sheer audacity of what I witnessed in the kitchen this morning"
"Whilst preparing my cereal, S walked in - brazen as you like and began making toast!"

".........."

"Make sure it doesn't happen again"

Masking my blatant look of confusion, I begin to draft my first departmental email of the day.

There are some people on this earth that we are destined never to understand.

On reflection.

Several dead and over one hundred people injured in a series of explosions at the Boston Marathon.

I have spent the past few hours pouring over amateur footage of the tragic events. Video phones portraying an elated carnival atmosphere torn to pieces by deadly blasts, runners sprinting for their lives, emergency teams risking everything by darting headfirst into the ensuing chaos. Graphic images showing the true extent of terrorism. Early reports suggest that an eight-year-old child is amongst the dead; an innocent youngster without even a thought or opinion on the fabricated religious farce that drives this kind of act.

Terrorism saddens me. It breaks my heart to the point that I can no longer stand it. My mind becomes confused, tangled beyond comprehension and I cry. I cry for humans - both victims and perpetrators as, in their own ways, both are lost within the twisted world in which we live.

It belittles me and consumes me with guilt. How dare I sit and quibble over the fact that my day has not gone quite to plan; that the minutiae of my daily routine didn't quite tesselate to my complete satisfaction. My day in which no-one was hurt, no-one was maliciously targeted and, above all, no-one died.

Perspective is a personal concept and these old minds of ours find it a hard concept to conquer. Trust me, I refuse to give up. Though I may not claim to be the next Sigmund Freud (heaven help us if I am) but I do firmly believe that healthy perspective is the key to inner peace and finding it is one of the greatest ambitions any human can have.

An absolution that we can only pray this world some day finds.

Oh Sunday.

I've had the ultimate relaxing Sunday; slept until late morning, enjoyed a full-english breakfast and basked in the sunshine of the garden. Adam's mum is looking after Skye this weekend, so I had the ideal opportunity to have the ferrets in the sun lounge for a much needed runaround. They really are the most adorable little creatures, dooking and jumping through their tubes - it's just a shame that Skye doesn't really share the same opinion.

We made the spur of the moment decision to drive over to Sainsbury's yesterday evening to buy some cocktail equipment and a basket load of spirits. I'm not 100% sure where the incentive came from but I'm pretty sure it had something to do with an old Desperate Housewives re-run that happened to be on TV at some point. Needless to say, we now have the urge to build ourselves a minibar though I haven't the faintest idea where we could put one. Adam will find somewhere, he always does. He turns this house into Mary Poppins' bag - give him an hour of rearranging and I reckon he could find room for a small African republic upstairs. Having said that, I'm dubious as to what lurks underneath each of the spare beds.

And now Sunday, the day of rest is almost over. I'm contemplating prizing myself from the sofa, ready to navigate the stairs to bed but part of me despairs at the idea of wasting the final precious moments of the weekend. I'm a nightmare that way. I've always been a night owl, absolutely detesting the idea of going to bed - unfortunately for me, this often results in too many late nights and I'm one of the most loathsome of humans first thing in the morning. I've noticed that my work colleagues have started giving me a wide birth when I first walk in at 9am. To be honest, I've tried convincing myself that it's down to how busy everyone is. I know I'm wrong, but a little self-delusion never did anyone any harm, did it?