Being Wishy one day and Still Wishy the Next…

It’s been an up-day and then a down-day today.  Woke up feeling tired and emotional after a fractured night’s sleep but got into work for a bit, feeling good about having sent off no fewer than three items last week.  But then a rejection came from Mslexia.  Recently I’ve been very proud of the stuff I’ve sent them, but they just don’t seem to like it – and when rejections come it’s very hard to stay positive.  All the rejections you’ve ever had come crowding back into your mind; all the rejections that may come in the future, gather and darken the skies.  I try to get straight back on the horse, take the story out again and think what else I can do with it, but it’s really hard.  And what annoys me is that it just goes on and on and ON being hard.  I have flashes of success, little glimpses of recognition, but then it all goes dark again and I feel hopeless.


I had a very odd weekend.  At least, Saturday was very odd: I waited in all day for a washing-machine which didn’t arrive, and all the time I had the sense that something very strange was happening.  It was supposed to come between 10 and 2.  All morning I felt restless as I was wanting to get out to the shops and to the Green Fair of Making and Mending at the Meeting House.  By two o’clock with the street still empty and no phone call either, I called the helpline.  I was told I’d be called back within 20 minutes with an ETA.  (I like it when people use technical acronyms like ETA: it makes me feel all snappy and businesslike.  Which is not a thing I get to feel very often.)  Half an hour passed.  No call; no ETA.  Trying not to make jokes along the lines of ‘ETA phone home,’ I called them back.  Guess what?  Oh yes.  I was put on hold.  And on hold I stayed for a good 20 minutes before giving up.  An hour later I tried again.  Same story.  Eventually I called Peter who had placed the order for me: he sat with his handset on speaker-mode for nearly an hour before getting through.  He conveyed a message to me.  ‘Seven o’clock,’ he said.

It was about five by now.  Mark had been shopping for me and the Green Festival of Making and Mending was packing up.  So I bottled some wine and made lasagne for dinner.

Seven o’clock came – but the washing machine did not.  As I went up to bed around 10.30 I could not rid myself of the thought that there would be a ring on the bell and two exhausted men hauling a machine up the drive.  Then in the morning I half-expected to see one left outside the door.  But no such thing occurred: instead I got a call from a harrassed-sounding woman.  Apparently there had been a mysterious occurrence at the depot and mine was one of hundreds of orders which had not gone out that day.  I complained about the hassle and she was very apologetic.  ‘I’d like to rearrange the order if I can,’ she said.  I confirmed that she could.  ‘It will be on Monday 9th,’ she said.

‘You’re kidding!’ I said.

She was not.  So now I have to wait another week for a machine which I have already waited two weeks for, and I still haven’t had an email confirming the arrangement.  So we shall see – but it’s all very weird.  Something is definitely going on.

So I am still wishing for my machine.  Unlike Charlie Brown who was wishy one day and washy the next, I don’t get to be washy…

Apparently I blogged about this before, too:

Kirk out