Urgh,

Its been a bad few days, so there's been all the upheaval and depression that comes with The Brat moving back in and realising that once again my life is dictated around cleaning up after him, plus the fight yesterday that has set Mrs Collie back in her rehab yet again.

Today I had a hospital appointment, I lost my hearing over Covid and its been 13 months since failing the hearing test and being referred to a specialist. 

Anyway, the appointment was today at 11.30. So I let work know and confidently said, worse case scenario i'd be in by 2pm, because even if it was runnng late, it couldn't be running THAT late?

Anyway, I was seen at 11.40 so thats not too shabby, I had another hearing test that I failed spectacularly and then had another wait to see a consultant and that was about 12.15, and he told me I needed hearing aids, which i'm pretty much resigned too and putting on a brave face about, but fucking hell, those NHS ones are so huge and ugly and awful and I can't afford 3k per ear for subtle invisible inner ear ones.

So the consultant told me to go back to the waiting room, so I did and an hour passes by and then a bit longer and at 13:30 I asked the Receptionist, who went to check, and yes, I had been told to wait there, but that was the wrong place to be waiting and I should be downstairs.

So downstairs I went. To be told that I shouldn't be waiting and that I'd be getting a letter in 6-8 weeks about a fitting. 

So it was 13:50 by the time I left the hospital, and 14:45 by the time I got to the office so I was in a really bad mood and then came home and I of course had to tidy the kitchen once I got in which just added to the mood and Mother is messaging me asking me what I want for my birthday and I don't want anything, I just want what i've wanted since I was 16/17 and that's to be away from them all and have a place of my own and she just sent back those crying/laughing emojis. 

So When the Brat appeared and thought it funny to try and communicate with me only in sign, I lost my temper again and threw the TV remote at him, which hit him on the leg, he threw it back at me and stormed out.

I'm tired, I don't want this to be my life for another 20 years but there's just no way out of it apart from the inevitable and at this point, basically I'm only living out of pure spite.

 

 I got into a fight! With punches! 

So Mrs Collie has been attacked by the same German Shepherd a few times and is now extremely worried about anything that looks similar, Huskys, akitas, malinois etc, so to avoid drama I do the sensible thing of putting her on a lead and giving them as wide a berth as possible in her comfort zone.

So when I saw one at the old houses in Oxleas, I put her on the lead, noticed it was muzzled and the owner did the same, went to give us space but didnt put it on the lead and it spotted Mrs Collie and launched at her, so she's screaming and trying to fight back and its gonna weigh 30-40kg compared to Mrs Collie's 15kg so even muzzled it could hurt her so I kicked it in the neck and then again in the ribs to stop the attack, the dog didn't even flinch so that's how hard it was!

And then the next thing the owner's on me and punched me in the arm screaming at me that I shouldn't kick her dog and it didn't matter that it attacked mine because its muzzled and my first though was "WTAF" and then she punched me again in the chest and she had one of those retractable leads in her hand so I saw red and punched her in the jaw, which hurt me a lot more than it hurt her!

And punctuated by various Fucks and Cunts I yelled that it didnt matter that it was muzzled, it went for my dog, common sense would have been if you knew your dog was aggressive you keep it on a lead and what if she had been recovering from an operation or was blind or deaf?

And then the dog broke free of her and leapt up at me, so I kneed it and pushed it down and then she squared up to me and all that's in my head is exactly HOW badly this is going to end up for me and that there's also no way I'm backing down now. 

Which is when two old ladies walking their doddery dogs walked past and she grabbed her dog before it went for those, clipped it on the lead and stormed off while I'm stood there screaming abuse at her.

I was shaking all the way home! 

 So The Brat is back again and he's ended it for good so he says and I'm plunged into misery about it. Already he's leaving mess everywhere, I had to clean the bath before I could use it and then clean it again this morning.

I've collected so far 6 cans of drink that have been scattered over the house and as he lives off of microwaveable meals, cleaned up endless containers and cardboard boxes and i'm trying to close my eyes to the clothes scattered everywhere. Why is this my life? Why am I stuck at practically 40, just as miserable about being at home as I was at 19 and this time without even the hope I'll escape.

I wonder sometimes if things work out with J what will happen longterm, I can't move into his flat with my animal baggage and I wouldn't let him move in here, not when The Brat is incapable of flushing the loo after himself.

I asked him this morning to take the bin out as it was overflowing and I was trying to clean the kitchen before logging on, he then took it out of the bin and put it on the floor. So I ended up having to do that as I can't leave it lying about or the dogs will be in it.

URGH. He says he's only just got up and can't do this, but I got up this morning, walked the dogs for an hour, cleaned the kitchen, emptied the dishwasher, reloaded it and then did the bin for him.

If I can do and spot this stuff, why can't he? And why does it always lead to an argument?