Hello one and all,
So after the debacle of last week I am slightly feeling better although I am fully aware that my Cystitis is still raging my downstairs mix-up and creating more hassle than its worth. I have the day off tomorrow though so I am hoping now my course of Antibiotics have finished I can go back and they can finally get to the bottom of why this is such a chronic issue for me. As another week has come and gone, yet another drama unfolds. Would it surprise you in the slightest if I told you that my absolutely lovely Mr. Warehouse has yet another job. Yes. I know.
Meeting me after work on Tuesday en route to my second job I saw a solomn face that said something was wrong. Worried Mr. Warehouse was about to put us right back to square one, I asked why the long face. He explained that after finishing his job that afternoon and despite being told that he would be needed all week at the Steelworks, he had been told on Tuesday afternoon as he finished that his services were not required tomorrow and that they would be in touch if and when they did need him. Heart sinking and feeling the all too familiar now sickness return to the back of my throat I swallowed the anger and resentment and told him I loved him. "It would get better, wouldn't it?" I soothed myself. "I mean it has to right? Can't get much worse - Can it?"
"Come on then, be honest, there must be a reason why they would give everyone else work and not you. Just tell me. I wont be angry. I promise." I asked my beloved other-half.
"I don't know. I really don't have a clue." He replied, puzzled. "Unless it was the fact that some women asked me to cut two-hundred-and-forty sheets of Steel and I cut two-hundred-and-forty-three as otherwise there would have been a lot of excess waste."
Disappointed I tried to hide it as I said to him that he needs to listen carefully to instructions and follow them by the book exactly or this will keep happening.
"If this women has asked for two-hundred-and-forty sheets of metal cut into heart-shaped dildo's then she wants two-hundred-and-forty sheets of metal cut into heart-shaped dildo's! If she wants them rammed up her arse - She wants them rammed up her arse, no questions asked." I said trying to be empathetic although lacking slightly through frustration and anger.
Arriving into town, we departed the bus and headed towards the call centre. After making several phone calls to the agencies in town that were still open with no luck I had said it would be a good idea to come with me to my place of work and enquire if they were still hiring as they may have been able to interview him there and then on the spot. Although Mr. Warehouse clearly had other ideas as he kissed me on the cheek and headed for the bus back home to the flat.
"What are you doing?" I asked, confused.
"I'm going home. I can't do this right now. I'm so sick and tired of this!" Mr. Warehouse flippantly said, unaware at just how close I was to boiling point.
"What, and you really think I enjoy going to work every single evening at a call centre I am not even reaping the rewards from?" I simmered, although cooling myself enough to convince him to come with me and give it a go.
No more than a few steps into our ten-minute walk to the call centre I heard moaning.
"Well its not like you support me anyway is it?" Mr. Warehouse snapped. And with that phrase, so did I. Launching into Defcon-10, I ranted about how much love and support I have tried to muster over the last few weeks, all in the knowledge that my wages alone couldn't support us, especially not when we have a wedding to go to this weekend which we have barely anything saved for and my annual summer holiday with the girls which I again barely have a two-cent coin to run together let alone any spending money for Euros. Rant continuing after Mr. Warehouse had explained that 'its not what I meant - I meant financially' sent me into overdrive and I launched even further stating that given another week or two and it would be yours truly picking up his credit card bill and all other manor of bills he has.
Boil over I arrived at work and sat on the wall outside looking into the storm in the distance. It began to rain. I thought about how it would ever get better if there is no motivation, confidence or skill to be had. I couldn't keep doing this. Was this it? Was this how it was all going to end? Would I be in a fortnight or so's time asking Mr. Warehouse to move out and calling an end to our relationship? What about all those horrible dates on Tinder? Who would I have pillow fights with at four-in-the-afternoon or tickle before I go to sleep?
Worried I went to work and returned home in a zombie like state, going about the motions until it was time for bed. Someone was hungry but all I could think about was the fact that my boyfriend was yet again unemployed and in that very moment I could feel myself detach from him slightly and a little light in me went out. Scared for our future together and what may be round the next corner I struggled to sleep as the stiffness of an angry-jobless penis stuffed into my lower back, its owner oblivious to how it felt to be skewered like a shish kebab.
The following morning I got dressed and ready for work, sighing as I looked at my sleeping Beau, only to feel the same as the night before. Grey. Leaving the house I was hopeful that something would come up, but all in the knowledge that the Xbox was still on standby. But I need not have worried so much, for by the time I sat down at my desk with my breakfast and morning coffee I had a email. It was Mr. Warehouse. He had a phone-call from the Agency and they had asked him to come it to do a drugs test as they may have got him a placement for a Temp-Perm contract at a Pharmaceuticals company. The same Pharmaceuticals company my doting father works at. Nervous and worried he wouldn't pass I encouraged him to be honest with them as to what he had taken medication wise in the last four-weeks and just get down to their town-centre offices to do the test.
Couple of hours later I had the phone-call I had been waiting for.
"I start tomorrow" Mr. Warehouse said down the phone in an excited and yet relieved tone. I was so proud of him. He had passed all his Math, English and Drugs test with flying colours and was now a fully fledged member of the temporary team working the daytime shift, aptly named 'The Golden Ticket' as it starts at 7am and your finished by 3pm - Perfect for parents, second-jobbers and lazy-bums alike. And with picking and packing it shouldn't be the hardest thing my little employee has had to do. I was absolutely over-the-moon for him and so was everyone around me, for I had turned into such a stress-head when Mr. Warehouse didn't have a job.
Now sure, money would be tight, and will be at least for a few weeks until we are back from the wedding in Newquay. I still have no idea how we are going to pay for everything, but I am sure we will manage. What was that old nineteen-fifties saying I swear by: Make Do and Mend? Well I have made a couple of the wedding gifts and I have mended some bits and pieces together so hopefully we can still have a lovely time, just on a bit of a budget. I have numerous vouchers, discount codes and coupons clipped and stored away for meals out and cheap and cheerful days out. A combination of Sea Safari's, Aquariums, Long Beach Walk and Pirate Museums have me very excited to visit Cornwall - I have even convinced Mr. Warehouse to come horse-riding with me.
In all honesty I am actually really looking forward to going away with Mr. Warehouse who I am still proud to call my boyfriend. He may be a pain in the arse sometimes and we may row every now and again, but who doesn't. Here's hoping that Newquay will be just the break to rekindle our love for each other and that I can get back that little light that went out. I just hope he really see's just how much I have done for us and just how close to the edge we were from falling.
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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