Sorted for Ps and Biz
23.07.14 (Day 213)
After the recent financial struggle, during which very good family friends, friend’s family, family family helped out again, finances are more in order. I’ve received some money that was due. Money that’s owed remains owing. Some came back but was quickly returned for an important purpose: that of romance. The Dog wanted to take my sister (his girlfriend; not my (un) real sister) for a romantic lunch. So I effectively paid but who am I to deny my brother? I could have suggested my budget romantic meal box for two: two Pot Noodles, two sets of chopsticks procured from the local Chinese and a tea light in a presentation shoe box. It’s worked for me before. The Dog wanted to take his girl out though, so he did. Time out for him and time off for me.
So now that we both have money coming in, we’re financially independent. I’ve gone one stage further and declared my room / office an independent state: it’s the cleanest, tidiest room in the place, where most of the rest are in another state: a fucking state. I continue to be dictator from my independent state and I’ll still be Minister for Food and Agriculture (dishing out snacks in the garden) but I’ve demoted myself within the Department for Foreign Imports, in that I’m less responsible for splashing the tobacco (I don’t splash it). My role as Chancellor of The Exchequer is one that I’ve run poorly in the past by dishing out too much cash to the needy. In this independent state, two of the many letters after my name now stand for two things: TC is still an abbreviation of Top Cat but now it’s Tight Cunt as well.
That meal for my brother and sister came from The Office for Home Affairs, of which I retain my role as Minister. There’s a new currency in this independent state though: it’s called My Fucking Money.
The Department for Other Affairs (outside things) was having communication issues and I thought I’d lost my Clingy Thingy out there somewhere. We installed new communication software though and I’ve got it back. It never went anywhere and it’s always mine.
The Dog was out last night, so I’ve got the place to myself for now. Breakfast is last night’s curry (by choice and just as delicious cold and fermented as hot, although it’s still fucking hot spice-wise) with coffee and cream. I’ve melted a Cadbury Chocolate Finger in the coffee: deliberately; it works. I’m thinking of marketing these coffee / McFlurry hybrid things, perfecting as I have the Caramel one, the Rolo and the Lindt Lindor ball. After writing this, I’ll be back to reading the Saturday Guardian (still) and listening to Radio 2. Radio 4 is later, in the day and on the dial.
And just as I’m getting into an afternoon play on Radio 4, the family kids will arrive. Despite the Do Not Disturb state boundary sign on the door, they’ll still come in. But many come to see me, so the borders are open as always. I have little border control when the doors and gates don’t lock. As well as the kids though, those entry points are also accessible to business contacts who sometimes visit unannounced. Such was the case yesterday when two individuals came to see me to talk shop. Some of the kids were here and although most business talk is conducted in privacy, sometimes that’s not practical, possible or necessary. But that’s why we have the rules: who you see, what you hear…stays etc.
So, money and business: sorted. For now
Sorted for Ps and Biz